Benedicta leafed through the pages.
'You can have it,' Athelstan told her. 'Take it over to the parchment sellers in St Paul's and you'll get a good price for the cover. In the meantime, Godbless, Benedicta, I want you to do a job for me.' He emptied the contents of the bag out on to the table, opened an inkpot and scratched a short message on a piece of parchment. 'Go down to London Bridge. If you can, collect Bladdersniff on the way, I want you to go to the gatekeeper.'
'The mannikin Robert Burdon?'
'Yes, that's the one. Give him this message. Ask him to think carefully then come back to me. He must tell the truth.'
Benedicta looked at the scrap of parchment, shrugged and, with Godbless and Thaddeus escorting her, left the house. Athelstan watched them go then closed and locked the door behind them. He went and sat back at the table.
'Right, friar.' He sighed. 'There's no rest for the wicked and that includes you.'
Bonaventure lifted his head then flopped down again. Athelstan wrote down his conclusions on the murder of Miles Sholter and the two other unfortunates.
'Very clever,' he said to himself. 'It's true that the sons and daughters of Cain are more cunning in their ways than the children of the light. But, saying it is one thing, proving it another.'
He wrote a title on a scrap of parchment: the Paradise Tree. Bonaventure jumped on to the table.
'You've come to listen, have you? We have a tavern-owner, Bonaventure.'
The cat nudged his hand and Athelstan stroked Bonaventure's good ear.
'We know she is a good victualler and what else? A widow. She allows those Four Gospels to camp on her land. She is undoubtedly innocent of the deaths of those other remains. They are simply the skeletons of poor people who died in the great pestilence. But!' He spoke the word so loudly Bonaventure started. 'We have Bartholomew Menster and Margot Haden! They were undoubtedly killed on her land, either in the tavern itself or in Black Meadow. Their corpses were hurriedly buried. Why?' Athelstan closed his eyes. Gold! He thought: Bartholomew believed Gundulf's treasure was hidden in the church or chapel beside the Tower. It was a treasure which shone like gold. Bartholomew also made a reference, which I can't trace, something to do with the treasure shining like the sun buried beneath the sun. So, that means there's a scrap of parchment, some piece of evidence missing, probably destroyed. Athelstan wrote down other conclusions.
Item - How could Bartholomew and Margot enter Black Meadow without Kathryn Vestler knowing?
Item - Was Kathryn Vestler jealous of Margot Haden?
Item - Bartholomew had offered to buy the Paradise Tree. Why? To search for gold? Or had Mistress Vestler already found it and decided to silence Bartholomew and his paramour? After all, if Bartholomew knew the gold had been found, he could blackmail Mistress Vestler over not revealing treasure trove to the Barons of the Exchequer.
Item - Why had she burned Margot Haden's possessions?
Athelstan lifted his head. 'We know nothing about the dead girl,' he said. 'But I wager Master Whittock does.'
Athelstan returned to his writing. What were those black shapes and shadows glimpsed by the Four Gospels? What had they to do with Mistress Vestler? Athelstan paused.
'I am missing something,' he whispered. 'Master Cat, I am missing something but I can't remember what.'
Bonaventure yawned and stretched. Athelstan went into the buttery and brought back a small dish of milk and the remains of the pie. He put these down near the hearth and watched as Bonaventure delicately sipped and ate. The friar sat in the chair and closed his eyes. What was missing? Something he had learned? Athelstan rubbed his arms. If matters don't improve, he thought, Mistress Vestler will hang and that will be the end of the matter.
'It's this gold!' Athelstan declared loudly. 'These legends about Gundulf's treasure!'
He remembered the accounts book Flaxwith had taken from the Paradise Tree. He took a candle from the table and sat, going through the dirty, well-thumbed ledger. The accounts were a few years old. He could tell from the different entries that they marked the year Kathryn Vestler became a widow. There were Mass offerings made to a local church for her husband's requiem as well as regular payments to a chantry priest to say Mass for the repose of the soul of Stephen Vestler. Items bought and sold. Athelstan turned to the front of the ledger and noted the date 1374 to 1375. He studied the last page and whistled softly at the profits the Paradise Tree made, hundreds of pounds sterling.
'I am sure Master Whittock's found the same,'
Athelstan mused. 'And how can Kathryn explain such profits?'
He went through the items bought. A number of entries chilled his blood. Margot Haden was apparently a favourite of Mistress Kathryn. A list of expenses showed cloaks, caps, gowns and petticoats, shoes, belts and embroidered purses bought for the young chambermaid. At one item Athelstan closed his eyes.
'O Jesu miserere!'he prayed.
He picked up the ledger, holding it close to the candlelight, and read the item aloud.
'For a Book of Hours, bought for the said Margot Haden, so she could recite her prayers and make her own entries.'
Athelstan threw the ledger down on the floor. He was sure the documents Whittock had seized would show similar entries. How could Kathryn Vestler explain why she had burned what she described as 'paltry items'? A Book of Hours? Hadn't Kathryn Vestler really destroyed important evidence which, in any court, would surely send her to the scaffold?
Chapter 11
'Ecce Agnus Dei. Ecce qui tollis peccata mundi:Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world!'
Athelstan stood with his back to the altar and lifted the host above the chalice. He was celebrating a late Mass and most of his parishioners were present, huddled in the entrance to the rood screen. Athelstan turned back to the altar. He ate the host and drank from the chalice.
'May the body and blood of Christ,' he whispered, 'be not to my damnation but a source of eternal life.' He closed his eyes. 'Help me Lord,' he prayed. 'Make me as innocent as a dove and as cunning as a serpent. Send Your spirit to guide me. I thank You for the great favour You have shown.'
Athelstan could have hugged himself. He'd fallen asleep in the chair and woken in the early hours of the morning to see the scrap of parchment Benedicta had kindly pushed under the door. Master Burdon had told the truth. Athelstan, for the first time, could see a path through the tangle of troubles besetting him.
He heard a commotion at the back of the church and looked round. The fisher of men had entered with his strange coven around him. This caused consternation among the parishioners. The fisher of men was much feared, regarded as an outcast, and the members of St Erconwald's hastened to move away. Athelstan, however, continued with the Mass. He brought the ciborium down and distributed the hosts. He then went out into the nave and held a host up before the fisher of men.
'Ecce Corpus Christi!Behold the Body of Christ!'
The fisher of men's eyes filled with tears.
'We are not worthy, Brother.'
'No man is,' Athelstan said. 'Ecce Corpus Christi!''Amen!'
The fisher of men closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Athelstan put the host on his tongue. He then moved round the other members of the coven. Some objected. Athelstan felt a deep compassion for these most wretched of people, their eyes and mouths ringed with sores. He walked back to the altar and finished the Mass. However, he did not return to the sacristy but stood on the top of the altar