‘But not here?’
‘No, Father, not here.’
Athelstan looked over his shoulder at Cranston, who nodded.
‘Take him away!’
And the Vicar of Hell, head held high, was pushed out into the street. Cranston clapped his hands and called Dame Broadsheet over. ‘I want to talk with one of your girls, Clarice.’
The pert little girl came over, all coy and simpering. Cranston gestured at Athelstan. ‘You have questions for our young lady?’
Athelstan stared into the girl’s beautiful blue eyes. She reminded him so much of Cecily the courtesan, he could have sworn they were twins. Dame Broadsheet hovered anxiously behind her.
‘Do you remember?’ he asked. ‘That night with the clerks at the Dancing Pig?’
Clarice nodded.
‘Remember what you told me? How the young man you were with, Alcest, never left your bed the whole night through. You were lying, weren’t you?’
Clarice looked over her shoulder at Dame Broadsheet.
‘Answer, girl!’ Cranston thundered. ‘Or I’ll have you and this whole establishment in the common room at the Fleet!’
The mention of one of London’s worst hellholes sent Dame Broadsheet and all her girls aflutter.
‘I woke up,’ the young girl replied. ‘I saw Alcest put something in my drink so I spilt it on the rushes. I pretended to sleep. He left me, dressing quickly, and went out through a window. Our chamber was at the back of the Dancing Pig. Alcest climbed down. He must have been gone an hour and a half, then he came back; that’s all I know.’
‘And that’s all we need to know.’
Athelstan stepped back. ‘Sir John, what happens to these ladies and their house is a matter for the law, but young Clarice has been most helpful.’
Cranston thrust the wine cup back into Dame Broadsheet’s hands. ‘I shall think about matters,’ he declared sonorously. ‘I shall reflect and ponder, Dame Broadsheet. I shall have words with our young Vicar of Hell and then I’ll make a judgement.’
Dame Broadsheet sank to her knees, hand clasped. ‘Sir John, you have a heart as big as your frame. My house and all that is in it,’ she simpered, ‘are forever at your disposal.’
‘Don’t be so bloody stupid!’ Cranston snapped. ‘If the Lady Maude heard that, you and everything in this place would be put on board ship and sent to the Great Cham of Tartary.’
He glanced balefully round and, followed by Athelstan and Flaxwith, left the taproom. Once they were out of the alleyway, Cranston shook Flaxwith’s hand.
‘A good morning’s work, Henry. Good man! The Vicar of Hell arrested. Dame Broadsheet knows the difference between right and wrong whilst Master Alcest is in for some interesting questions.’ He stretched till his muscles cracked. ‘Now, be a good lad, Henry, and go back to the Guildhall. There’s a chest in my chamber; the key is in the corner under the statue of the Virgin and Child. Unlock it and bring my second wineskin.’ He looked at Athelstan. ‘Where to now, Brother?’
‘Master Drayton’s house,’ Athelstan replied. ‘Perhaps Henry and two of his burliest boys could call on Flinstead and Stablegate? They, too, have questions to answer.’ Athelstan looked up at the sky. ‘But in the meantime, Sir John, I would like to have words with Master Tibault Lesures.’
The Master of the Rolls was even more agitated than last time when he came down the stairs. ‘Oh, Sir John!’ he wailed. ‘I have heard about Master Napham’s death and Alcest is in the Tower!’
‘He can bloody well stay there.’
Cranston pushed the Master of the Rolls into the chamber. Once inside, Lesures, his hands outstretched, gazed beseechingly at Brother Athelstan. ‘I have committed no crime,’ he said, but the friar glimpsed the calculating look in his eyes.
‘Come, come, Master Tibault’ Athelstan walked over. ‘You know more than you admit. Master Alcest, what mischief did he get up to? And, more importantly, sir, how did he become cock of the roost here?’ Athelstan stared into Lesures’ old shrewd eyes. ‘To do evil, sir, is not just a matter of committing a sin: it’s also turning your head and pretending you don’t see.’
‘I don’t know what they did,’ Master Tibault stuttered.
‘What I am more interested in,’ Athelstan persisted, ‘is how they made you turn your head. Now, you can answer here or, perhaps, accompany us to the Tower. We’re going there to interrogate Master Alcest. He doesn’t know it yet, so it’s best if we kept it a secret.’
Tibault breathed in. ‘Two years ago,’ he began, sitting down, ‘Alcest found out my little secret. There’s a house in Cross Street,’ he smiled bleakly at Cranston, ‘within bowshot of the priory of St John of Jerusalem. It’s beyond the city limits. You can drink there with…’
‘With young men?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Yes, Brother, so tactfully put.’
‘And Alcest found out?’
‘Yes, Alcest found out. He did not threaten me, he just said it was our little secret.’
‘And in return?’
‘In return nothing, Brother.’ Tibault grasped Athelstan’s hand. ‘I swear,’ he declared hoarsely, ‘I know nothing of what they did.’
‘But you had suspicions?’
‘Oh yes. Now and again, during the day, Alcest would leave. He would meet with different people in this tavern or that.’
‘How do you know?’
‘On one occasion I followed him. Sometimes, when the clerks thought I was gone, I would eavesdrop on their chatter. They would talk in whispers.’ Lesures gabbled on. ‘Once I heard Alcest and Peslep having angry words with Chapler: he was indignant about something. Afterwards, they kept well away from him. On another occasion, when the doors had been left slightly ajar, I came upstairs in my slippers. Chapler was absent because of the gripes in his stomach. The clerks were gathering together at the far end of the room. They were discussing money matters. Alcest seemed to be defending himself.’
‘Did you learn anything else?’
‘They appeared to be accusing Alcest of keeping monies due to them but the matter seems to have been resolved.’
‘And did they mention any names?’
Lesures closed his eyes.
‘Come on, sir!’ Cranston barked.
‘Once I heard them talk of the Vicar of Hell.’
‘And you,’ Cranston poked him in the chest, ‘know who the Vicar of Hell is, sir. A well-known outlaw.’
Tibault’s face was as white as wax.
‘You’d best confess all,’ Athelstan murmured. ‘I also heard them mention the usurer who was murdered.’
‘Drayton?’
‘Yes, that’s the one. Alcest knew one of his clerks, a man called Stablegate.’
CHAPTER 11
Sir John and Athelstan stood in the parlour of Drayton’s house. The coroner kept looking over his shoulder, waiting for Flaxwith’s arrival.
‘Lesures is still hiding something,’ Athelstan remarked.
‘Oh, I am sure he is, Brother,’ Cranston replied. ‘Whichever way he jumps he’s in trouble. The Master of the Rolls is supposed to exercise better control over his clerks. A corrupt man,’ he continued. ‘Soft and treacherous. Lesures likes to have his cake and eat it. I intend to return to the matter in due course. Now, Brother, you have a solution to this matter?’
‘I think so, Sir John, but I am going to need the cooperation of our two clerks. Which of them do you think is the more amenable?’
Cranston pulled a face. ‘Stablegate’s as hard as steel.’
‘Then the stage is set,’ Athelstan rejoined. ‘Come on, Sir John, let’s walk on to it!’
They went down the gloomy passageway, the smell of mildew and corruption stronger than ever. Athelstan paused and stared into the darkness.
‘This is a cold and dismal place, Sir John. It reeks of evil. What will happen to this house when we are finished?’