The fire attack on the barges roused all of Southwark and St Erconwald’s in particular. Athelstan was woken by Crim hammering on the door with the startling news of a fire raging along the riverside. Athelstan, braving the cold, immediately hurried across to the church with his escort of archers trailing behind him. The friar forced his way through the throng of pilgrims and visitors, now all agog about the attack along the Thames. Athelstan told the archers to wait and, with Crim trotting behind him, climbed to the top of the tower to see the fires blazing against the lightening sky.
‘They’ll all be there, won’t they, Crim? Watkin, Pike and the rest, up to their necks in devilry. God save them.’ Crim did not reply. Athelstan stretched out and tousled the boy’s greasy hair. ‘Don’t worry, lad, I know you can’t say anything. Just pray that they not be taken or slain.’ Athelstan returned to his house. He could not settle. Dawn would come and the busyness of the day press in with its demands. The friar shaved, washed, donned fresh robes and sat drinking a cup of water, staring into the strengthening flames of the fire he had stoked in the small hearth.
‘My soul is ready, O Lord,’ he prayed. ‘My soul is ready. Awake, my heart, awake, lyre and harp. I will awake the dawn.’ Athelstan said a brief prayer to the Holy Spirit before returning to the mysteries of the Ignifer, Firecrest Manor and ‘The Book of Fires’. ‘A jumble of veritable facts and details,’ he murmured, ‘with no coherence or pattern. Ah, well.’ He rose at the scratching against the door and let in Bonaventure, who streaked to the hearth where he sprawled, washing his paws until Athelstan brought him a bowl of milk and a platter of diced ham.
‘Eat, drink and be merry, my friend.’ Athelstan stroked Bonaventure’s head. ‘For now I must pray.’ He blessed the great tomcat and left for the church. Crim and Benedicta had prepared the sanctuary for Mass. The widow woman tried to question him about the fire but Athelstan pressed a finger against her lips, ‘Silence,’ he whispered, ‘and discretion. Pilgrims and visitors flock here as, undoubtedly, do Gaunt’s spies.’
Athelstan swiftly vested and prepared himself. He decided to preach a homily before intoning the opening rite of the Mass. He also used the occasion to carefully study his congregation. The throng of people had definitely thinned. The attack on the barges must have frightened them but Athelstan immediately noticed, as he had when Crim first roused him and he crossed to the tower, how many of the young men, strangers who had allegedly come to view the Great Miracle, had now disappeared. Members of his parish were also conspicuous in their absence and the list was long. After the attack on the barges, the Upright Men would flee south into the countryside. The group would break up and would drift back towards their homes as if nothing had happened. Athelstan finished his homily and celebrated his Mass. He found this difficult, being distracted by thoughts which whirled through his mind like a flock of noisy sparrows. Once he had received the Eucharist, Athelstan paused and prayed fiercely for divine guidance. He then continued the Mass, reached the final blessing and raised his hand, staring round. Others were absent! Fulchard of Richmond, together with his witnesses and his keeper, the defrocked priest, Fitzosbert! Athelstan finished the blessing, bowed his head and thanked God for guidance. He returned to the sacristy, divested and hurried across to his house. He told the escort of archers to break their fast in a rota, shelter from the cold yet choose a place where they could keep a strict eye on anyone approaching his house.
Once inside, Athelstan locked himself in. He hastily ate some porridge and began pacing up and down the kitchen, sifting through the evidence he’d collected as well as what he’d seen, or rather what he’d not seen, this morning.
‘What is most possible is probable. So, Bonaventure?’ Athelstan held the fierce gaze of the one-eyed tomcat. ‘What is more possible in this vale of tears, a miracle or a clever deception? Let us concede, for sake of argument, that it’s the latter.’ He sat down on his leather-backed chair. ‘Item: we have Fulchard of Richmond staggering into St Erconwald’s during the vigil. Yes? He claims to have had a vision: how our great saint would help him. He certainly was a cripple, the entire right side of his body being badly burnt. Item: Fulchard of Richmond carried letters of attestation to his injuries. He was officially a cripple and a public beggar. On his arrival in London he was critically examined by Brother Philippe, one of the most eminent physicians of this city. He viewed Fulchard’s terrible wounds. He also asserted that Fulchard was greatly weakened, even ill after his journey south. Item: on that particular morning Fulchard of Richmond leapt up to claim a miracle. He had been completely cured. Item: we have a host of witnesses to this miracle, be it Fitzosbert the defrocked priest as well as our noble physician, Brother Philippe. Item: we have the Great Miracle proclaimed. Strangers by the score flood into our ward and parish, bringing carts, barrows, pack ponies and other conveyances. Item: we have a goodly number of stout young men also interested in the miracle. Item: we have a sudden and very violent attack, or so I understand, against Gaunt’s barges further down the river. Item: this morning most of these young men have disappeared, along with many parishioners, not to mention Fulchard of Richmond and his companion, Fitzosbert. Item: we have a connection between Firecrest Manor and the events of last night. Bonaventure, I am sure Greek fire was used during that assault. What I saw from the tower was a blazing furnace. So, who concocted this Greek fire? Is the Ignifer a member of the Upright Men? Item: let’s return, Bonaventure, to this parish. What other strange events have happened in St Erconwald’s?’ Athelstan held a hand up. ‘Item: Merrylegs, or rather Merrylegs senior. We have that funeral feast around his corpse. Strangers were present, certainly Upright Men who used the occasion to plot, but what? Item: on the night before the burial of Merrylegs senior, Godbless and his goat participate in the festivities until both are so drunk they can hardly stand. Item: the requiem Mass for Merrylegs senior the morning after. Many attended yet it proceeded so serenely and smoothly.’ Athelstan stared at the small statue of St Erconwald standing on a plinth in the corner. He went and knelt before it, praying for guidance. ‘For the children of this world,’ he whispered, ‘are more astute in dealing with their own kind than the children of the light. Lord,’ he continued, ‘my heart is not proud. I do not claim to be a child of the light but I know I am here to serve them.’ He rose and went back to his reflections. The miracle at St Erconwald’s was certainly beginning to dim as the fug of mystery around it cleared. Athelstan ate some bread and drank a little ale. He was about to return to his studies when Cranston hammered on the door, shouting for entrance. Once inside, the coroner shook off his great cloak and beaver hat, moved Bonaventure to one side then squatted down, hands out to the flames.
‘Satan’s tits, Athelstan! Gaunt is furious. The Upright Men used Greek fire – pot after pot catapulted through the air to drench the quayside, its buildings and the barges. This was followed by a veritable hail of fire arrows which kindled a furnace from Hell.’ He rubbed his hands and got up. ‘Gaunt expected an attack but not like that. He and his captains had planned on a sword fight, a clash of arms, not a firestorm loosed from afar. Brother, they even brought catapults. No wonder the Upright Men have been quiet recently – they were busy plotting last night’s outrage.’
‘Rumour has it much damage was done.’
‘Brother, the barges were chained close together. The water afforded little protection. Some of the witnesses talk of the flames scudding across the water as if the Thames itself had caught fire. Two hundred barges were mustered there. I doubt if a score of them will reach the Lincolnshire Fens.’