By Murder's bright Light

Steelyard towards Queen’s hithe. They stood on the quayside staring out at the ships. The Fisher of Men turned.
    ‘Well! Well!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘We must be ready. Stay along the river bank, watch the water.’ He chuckled. ‘Like the good book says, the deep shall yield up its riches.’ His face became serious. ‘Oh, yes, my beauties. Father Thames has many secrets.’
    He hid his flicker of annoyance as he made out the lights of the God’s Bright Light. The Fisher of Men felt cheated. Three sailors had disappeared from that cog. The Fisher of Men had heard about the murder of Bernicia and the search for Bracklebury, but what had happened to the other two members of the watch? Why wouldn’t the river give up this secret to him?

CHAPTER 10

    Sir Jacob Crawley greeted Cranston and Athelstan warmly. The friar was embarrassed by Sir John’s slight unsteadiness, but Sir Jacob chose to ignore it as he welcomed them into his cabin. A small trestle table had been set up, covered with white linen cloths and laid with silver goblets, cutlery and the very best pewter dishes. Lanterns had been lit and candlesticks, carefully fixed on to the table, bathed the cabin in a soft warm glow. Like its slightly smaller sister ships, the Holy Trinity was ready for war. Athelstan had seen these preparations as he and Cranston had come aboard. The Holy Trinity’s deck was cluttered with buckets of seawater against fire, while archers were bringing up bundles of arrows and placing them into small, iron-hooped barrels around the mast. As the admiral closed the cabin door behind him, Athelstan sensed he was entering a different world. Crawley ushered them to their chairs. They were served dishes that had been bought from cookshops and bakeries in Vintry. The food was not of the best, but still hot and spicy — venison pies, beef pastries, hot broth, quince tarts and different wines by the jugful. At first the conversation was a mere exchange of pleasantries, broken now and again by a knock on the door as an officer came to ask for advice or receive instructions.
    ‘Do you think Eustace the Monk will bring his galleys this far up the Thames ?’ Athelstan asked.
    Crawley nodded. ‘Within the hour, that mist on the river will be boiling thick and afford him the best protection.’ The admiral drank from his goblet and sat back. ‘It’s to be expected. For weeks we have been raiding towns along the Normandy coast and Eustace is insolent enough to try something daring. That he is here at all is danger enough.’ Crawley leaned closer. ‘Why, Brother, do you wish to go ashore? Please feel free.’
    ‘No.’ Cranston burped, smacked his lips and peered at a piece of velvet damask hanging on one wall of the cabin. ‘Sir Jacob, Brother Athelstan has fought in the king’s armies in France .’ Cranston did not elaborate on Athelstan’s brief military career, when his younger brother had been killed. ‘And old Jack Cranston is not frightened of any pirate.’ The coroner’s fat fingers drummed on the table top. ‘Moreover, Sir Jacob, we have business to attend to.’ He turned and winked quickly at Athelstan as a sign that they should tell Sir Jacob nothing about their discovery on board the God’s Bright Light.
    The admiral spread his hands. ‘Sir John, ask your questions. This time I will tell you the truth.’
    ‘Good, you disliked Roffel?’
    ‘No, Sir John, I hated him with every fibre of my being as a pirate, as a killer and a degenerate. In my eyes Roffel received his just deserts.’
    “Were you involved in his death?’
    ‘By the sacrament, no!’
    ‘Did you know about his attack on the fishing smack between Calais and Dieppe ?’
    ‘No, Sir John, I did not. Once at sea, my captains are free to act as they wish. Their task is quite simple — to seek out and destroy as many of the enemy as possible. No questions are asked and, if they are, they rarely receive an honest answer.’
    ‘And on the day the God’s Bright Light came to anchor?’
    Crawley shrugged. ‘I went aboard. I saw Roffel’s stinking corpse. I had a few words with Bracklebury and came back here.’
    ‘You sensed nothing wrong?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Yes, there was a feeling of unease. Bracklebury refused to meet my eye and seemed to resent my presence on board.’
    Cranston cleared his throat and took one deep gulp from his goblet. Athelstan watched him warily. Sir John was already deep in his cups, his red face was now fiery, his