By Murder's bright Light

this greedily and stretched out before the roaring fire as Benedicta described her visit and journey. She then patiently sat and listened as Athelstan described the mysteries surrounding the God’s Bright Light, the death of William Roffel and the murder of Sir Henry Ospring.
    ‘A puzzle,’ Benedicta commented. ‘I met the lady Aveline last night. She was with Ashby. I also told that paid thug, Marston, to leave the church. Aveline’s no murderer,’ she continued, “ but how can you prove that the slaying of her stepfather was in self-defence? As for the other business — as Sir John would say, “hell’s teeth, plot and counter-plot”.’ She leaned her arms on the table. ‘But there’s worse to come,’ she added darkly.
    Athelstan put his spoon down and looked at her.
    ‘What?
    Benedicta hid her smile. ‘You know the row between Watkin and Pike the ditcher?’
    Athelstan nodded wearily.
    ‘Well, Watkin’s spouse is now saying that the wife of God the Father is also superior to the wife of God the Holy Ghost.’
    Athelstan hid his face in his hands.
    ‘Never,’ he swore, ‘never again will I allow a mystery play in this parish!’ He looked up at a knock on the door. ‘Come in!’ he called.
    Aveline entered and smiled shyly at Benedicta. Athelstan got to his feet.
    ‘My lady, what is it?’
    ‘Father, last night I went through Sir Henry’s papers and—’
    Athelstan ushered her to a seat.
    ‘—I found this.’
    She handed across a piece of parchment, greasy and thumb-marked. Athelstan smoothed it out on the table top. There were marks on it — two lines running parallel with crosses around them. Athelstan stared at it.
    ‘My lady, what’s so special about this?’
    ‘I don’t know, Father. In itself it might mean little, but I found it concealed in my stepfather’s strong box. The coffer had a false bottom. When I lifted that up, I found the drawing there.’
    Athelstan stared at the parchment.
    ‘Why,’ he asked, ‘should Sir Henry hide such an apparently innocuous scrap unless it was really something very precious or dangerous?’ He drummed his fingers on the table top. ‘I have seen this before,’ he said. ‘At the back of Captain Roffel’s book of hours. The same drawings, the same cross marks.’
    ‘May I have a look?’ Benedicta asked.
    Athelstan passed his parchment to her. Benedicta stared at it for a long time, then she looked up and smiled at Aveline.
    ‘My husband, God rest him, was a sea captain. Athelstan, have you considered that these lines are from a map? This top one is the coast of France or, more precisely, a stretch of coast going down from Calais — she pointed to one of the crosses — to the port of Dieppe . This bottom line is the coast of England . The crosses between the lines could be ships.’
    Athelstan curbed his excitement. ‘For the first time,’ he whispered, ‘this is beginning to make sense.’ He stared at Aveline. ‘My lady, your stepfather was a landowner and a merchant. And what else?’
    Aveline pulled a face. ‘He was a commissioner of array, responsible for raising troops in the shire should the French invade.’
    ‘What else did he do?’
    ‘He loaned money to the exchequer.’
    ‘Oh, come on, Aveline, what else?’
    The young woman licked her lips nervously. ‘At night visitors called at our manor house. Men, cowled and hooded, who came and went silently as shadows. I think they were spies. Sometimes my stepfather used to help them cross to France , not through Calais but different ports, those held by the French.’
    ‘How do you know this?’
    ‘My stepfather always met them at night. Sometimes I would come downstairs and go by his chamber. The men would be seated there. Always with their backs to the doors. Letters would be exchanged. Sometimes I heard the chink of coins.’ She shook her head. ‘I know so little. My stepfather always kept such business to himself. He had powerful friends at court and they returned his work with favours.’
    Athelstan sat with his head in his hands staring into the fire.
    ‘Was Ashby ever there?’
    ‘Never.’
    ‘But who would know all this besides your stepfather?’
    Aveline smiled. ‘Marston might. Sometimes he took these people down to the coast.’
    ‘May I keep this map?’ Athelstan asked.
    Aveline nodded and opened her mouth to speak.
    The friar held a hand up. ‘Before you say anything, Lady Aveline, I have not forgotten you or Master Ashby.’
    Aveline smiled,