By Murder's bright Light

whiskers bristling.
    ‘Sir Jacob,’ Cranston boomed, ‘there are two matters about which you have lied.’ He held a hand up as Crawley flinched at the insult. ‘Yes, sir, I say lie because I am your friend, not because I am a coroner. You told us you did not go back to the God’s Bright Light that night. We now know you did approach the ship, sometime after midnight, and spent some time there.’
    Crawley chewed the corner of his lip. He played with a piece of crust on his trancher. ‘I am admiral of this flotilla. Roffel’s death disturbed me and Bracklebury’s suspicious conduct only deepened my mistrust. I saw the crew leave and I was concerned that just Bracklebury and two others stayed on board.’ He twisted his shoulders. ‘At first I accepted that. The passwords were carried, the signal lamps shown, the ships seemed quiet. But while I was on deck, I noticed light from the quayside signalling the God’s Bright Light.’ Crawley paused. ‘You said there were two matters?’
    ‘Aye!’ Cranston snapped. The whore Bernicia came down to the quayside and hailed the God’s Bright Light. Bracklebury drove her off with a stream of curses. Surely you heard their altercation?’
    ‘Yes, yes, I did,’ Crawley answered wearily. ‘I heard that and I also saw a lantern blinking through the mist from the quayside. I became suspicious, so I went across. On board I found everything in order. The two sailors were on watch. Bracklebury was in the cabin, he was eating ship’s biscuit and drinking quite heavily, but he wasn’t drunk. I asked him about the signal, but he just smiled. He said it was from a whore he had befriended and this often happened when he stayed aboard on watch. He was polite in rather an offensive way, smirking as if treasuring some secret.’
    ‘How was the cabin?’ Athelstan asked. ‘Did you notice anything untoward?’
    ‘No. I went back on deck. I talked to the other two sailors.’ Crawley shrugged. ‘You know how seamen are, Sir John? They were awake and on watch but they’d made themselves comfortable. One was playing a game of dice against himself. The other joked about the different ways he would take the first whore he met ashore.’
    ‘So there was nothing wrong?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Yes there was, but I can’t put my finger on it. Something untoward. Something out of the ordinary. I went below deck. All was dark and silent, but I could see nothing wrong so I returned.’ The admiral sipped his wine. ‘The rest you know.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘When daylight came and the sailor returned and found Bracklebury and the watch missing, I became frightened. Something was dreadfully wrong and I did not want to take the blame so I lied.’
    Athelstan sat back, cradling the cup between his hands. He remembered the entries at the back of Roffel’s book of hours.
    ‘Tell me, Sir Jacob, do the letters S L mean anything to you?’
    The admiral shook his head. ‘No, I have told you the truth. I committed no crime.’
    ‘Oh, but you did,’ Athelstan replied. Even Cranston looked at him in astonishment.
    Sir Jacob’s face paled. ‘What do you mean?’ he spluttered.
    ‘Well, a sort of crime,’ Athelstan continued. ‘You broke into St Mary Magdalene church. You plucked Roffel’s corpse from its coffin, cut its throat and left the proclamation assassin pinned to its chest.’
    Athelstan watched the admiral carefully. He had reached this conclusion only as Crawley had given vent to his feelings about Roffel.
    ‘You have no proof of that,’ Crawley said.
    ‘Oh, come, Sir Jacob, let’s examine it logically. First, if any of the crew of God’s Bright Light had wished to abuse their dead captain’s remains, they would have done so on the return journey. But once Roffel’s corpse was removed from the ship they were only too pleased to see the back of it. Secondly, whoever perpetrated the crime was strong and fit. Now where would we find such a person?’ Athelstan looked Crawley straight in the eye. ‘Emma Roffel hated her husband, but she lacked the skill and strength to scale a church wall, force a window, pluck a man’s corpse out of a coffin and place it in a sanctuary chair. And, in any case, why should she? Thirdly, you, Sir Jacob, had the motive. You are the only one who holds against Roffel a specific crime — the murder of a kinsman.’ Athelstan smiled and relaxed. ‘You are, undoubtedly, innocent of Roffel’s murder. But you felt cheated. So you