‘Have you and your companions ever met him? Sat down and shared the same table?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Never.’
The reply was too quick. Alcest looked away hurriedly.
‘Ah well, back to Master Drayton,’ Cranston said. ‘You went down to see him, did you not?’
‘Yes, I went down to change gold pieces for silver: the coin Dame Broadsheet demanded to be paid in.’
‘Why there?’ Athelstan asked. ‘Why not some tradesman or one of the banking houses? Was there something wrong with your gold?’
‘No, there was not. I obtained the coins from Master Walter Ormskirk, a vintner in Cheapside.’
‘You bank with him?’
‘The little I have, yes, Brother. We took it in turns to pay. On that particular night,’ he hurried on, ‘it was my turn. With Dame Broadsheet your purse has to be full. Money has to be divided. You cannot do that with two gold pieces.’
‘But why not ask for silver from Master Ormskirk?’ Athelstan insisted.
Alcest coloured and shuffled his feet.
‘Why go there out of your way?’
Alcest breathed in. ‘I was assured of getting a better coin from Drayton, you can’t trust some London merchants. The coins they hold, some are counterfeit, others have been recast.’
‘Come, come.’ Cranston tapped the young man’s knee. ‘Master Alcest, I may look like a madcap to you with my red face, bristling whiskers and protuberant stomach but I’m not a fooclass="underline" there must have been another reason.’
‘I had confidence in him,’ the clerk replied.
‘Did you often go there?’
‘Yes I did. Sometimes, in my earlier days at the Chancery, Drayton would give me a loan or change money.’
‘And the day you visited him. What happened?’
‘I was there only a short while and then I left.’
‘And you noticed nothing untoward?’
‘Nothing, Sir John, and before you put your accusation into words, I couldn’t care whether Drayton lived or died and the same applies to Chapler. When he was killed, I was roistering at the Dancing Pig.’
‘Ah yes, with young Clarice.’
‘I was with her all night,’ Alcest replied. He got to his feet. ‘And now, unless you have further questions?’
‘Why do you think your colleagues have been murdered?’ Athelstan asked abruptly. ‘And why the puzzles?’
‘Brother Athelstan, if I knew that I would tell both you and Sir John immediately.’
Alcest walked out. They heard him climb the stairs.
Cranston patted his stomach. ‘Some refreshment, Brother? Let’s collect our thoughts. Sit upon the ground and make an account of what has happened.’
Athelstan also felt hungry. He had not yet broken his fast. So he joined Sir John at an adjoining tavern, the Golden Goose, a spacious eating house on the corner of Shoe Lane and Farringdon Ward. The taproom was singular in that customers were able to hire small booths; these were closed off from the rest by a small door, with benches which faced each other across a large oaken table. They took one of these: Sir John ordered brawn soup, capon pies and two blackjacks of ale. Once the dishes had arrived, Cranston took his horn spoon from his wallet and ate with relish. Athelstan knew any sensible conversation would be impossible until the coroner declared himself refreshed, sat back, the blackjack of ale in his hands, eyes half closed and murmured his thanks to God for such a delicious meal. Once they had both finished, the coroner, demanding his blackjack be refilled, tapped his fleshy nose and smiled beatifically at the friar.
‘Come on, Athelstan, get that quill and parchment out. Let’s make an account of all these murders.’
Athelstan did so, sharpening his quill and smoothing out the piece of vellum with the pumice stone. He sighed in exasperation when he found his inkhorn almost empty but the landlord had one to hire.
‘I am ready, Sir John.’
The coroner put his blackjack of ale down.
‘Primo.’
Athelstan began to write.
‘Master Drayton, an avaricious moneylender, is found brutally murdered in his counting house. The bag of silver he was preparing to hand over to the Regent is stolen.’ Cranston paused. ‘Along with other items including the two gold pieces Alcest allegedly brought to change. Secundo, Drayton’s corpse is found in a locked chamber. The door was bolted and secured from the inside. There are no secret entrances. So how did the murderer kill him with a cross-bow bolt and steal the silver? Tertio, the rest of the house was found locked and barred, except the window used by the clerks to break in the following morning. Quarto, the two clerks Flinstead and Stablegate have a hand in this villainy but they can prove that they were elsewhere. Even if they were formally accused, we could not explain how the murders were carried out. Anything else, Athelstan?’
‘Quinto,’ the friar quipped back. ‘Alcest visited Drayton days before he died. He wanted to exchange gold for silver. We also know there’s some connection between Alcest and Drayton but it’s tenuous and the clerk’s explanation is not convincing. I believe Alcest used the gold pieces as a pretext to visit the moneylender but we were right not to pursue this matter: we have no proof to the contrary and Drayton’s dead.’
‘There’s the question of the gold.’
‘True, Sir John, but possessing two gold pieces is not a crime for a clerk of the Green Wax. Alcest claims it was his turn to pay, the others will corroborate that and his explanation makes sense: the young ladies would have to be paid, not to mention the landlord of the Dancing Pig.’ Athelstan put his quill down and rubbed his fingers. ‘So far, Sir John, the only firm suspicion we have is that the far wall in Drayton’s chamber might hold a clue to how our money-lender was brutally killed.’ He sighed. ‘But I could be clutching at straws.’
Cranston’s face became glum. ‘The way things look, Brother, we will not arrest our murderers and the Regent won’t get his silver. Now, let’s move to the clerks.’ He waved his hand despondently. ‘You list what we know.’
Athelstan sat back. ‘First, we know Chapler was murdered just after sunset. He visited St Thomas a Becket’s chapel on London Bridge. The murderer knew he’d be there. He struck Chapler on the back of the head then tossed his body into the Thames where the Fisher of Men found it. Secondly, all those who knew Chapler appear to have been elsewhere. The clerks were roistering at the Dancing Pig. Master Lesures did not join them. However, I doubt if our noble Master of the Rolls had the strength to strike anyone, let alone lift a young man’s body over the rail of London Bridge. The only other person who knew Chapler was his sister Alison. She was in Epping, about to leave for London because of her concern about her brother. Thirdly…’
‘Thirdly,’ Cranston intervened, ‘we have the death of Peslep. He was killed sitting on a latrine. We know he was followed by this mysterious young man, cloaked, cowled and spurred. Fourthly,’ the coroner continued, ‘there’s Ollerton’s death. Now,’ Cranston held up his hand. ‘It was well known that Chapler liked to visit St Thomas’s chapel. Peslep always broke his fast in that tavern at that particular time whilst it was customary for the clerks of the Green Wax to drink a cup of malmsey late in the afternoon. Therefore, whoever murdered these three men had intimate knowledge of their habits and customs.’
‘I agree,’ Athelstan replied. ‘There’s also the question of the riddles. Alcest’s companions apparently loved to pose each other riddles for the rest to solve. The assassin knows this and, so far, we’ve had three. The one about a king fighting his enemies but in the end both victors and vanquished lying together in the same place. The second, how does it go, Sir John? My first is like a selfish brother, whilst the one delivered after Ollerton’s death declares: “My second is the centre of woe and the principal mover of horror”.’ Athelstan abruptly clapped his hands, alarmed at Sir John’s heavy-lidded look. ‘Come on, Sir John, concentrate with that brain as sharp as a razor, that wit as speedy as a swooping hawk.’