By Murder's bright Light

both women out into the cold, fresh air. Emma Roffel pushed Tabitha away.
    ‘Come on, woman!’ she said. ‘For God’s sake, it is not you laid out like a fish in a box!’
    Tabitha moaned and drew closer to her mistress. Emma looked at Athelstan.
    ‘When will this business end ?’ she asked. ‘Can’t you see, Brother, that those pirates in there are no better than my husband? They know the truth!’ And, spinning on her heel, she led the sobbing Tabitha away.
    Athelstan went back to where Cranston and the others were still staring down at Bracklebury’s corpse.
    ‘Why?’ the coroner asked suddenly.
    ‘Why what, Sir John?’
    ‘Well, Bracklebury had apparently been in the water for some time. But no one knows why or what caused these bruises on his chest and neck. Yet what really puzzles me is why his corpse appears now?’
    Cranston looked at Cabe, who was leaning against a wooden pillar. Still shocked, the second mate was staring down at his dead comrade.
    ‘Master Cabe, who were the other two sailors? What were their names?’
    Cabe didn’t answer.
    ‘Master Cabe, the names of the other two sailors?’
    ‘Eh?’ The second mate rubbed the side of his face. ‘Clement and Alain. They were London men, or I think they were.’
    Athelstan was staring at the Fisher of Men, who caught his glance.
    ‘What is it, Brother?’
    ‘Can you explain why Bracklebury’s corpse should suddenly appear?’
    ‘No, Father, I can’t.’
    Athelstan recalled the battle on the river. Images flitted through his mind — the catapults being loaded with stones, the galleys crashing against the cog to set it rocking on the swift flow of the Thames . The friar smiled down at the corpse. ‘Of course!’ he whispered and tapped his foot in excitement.
    ‘Sir John!’ Athelstan exclaimed. ‘I think we should return to the God’s Bright Light. Our good friend here, the Fisher of Men, might be able to help us.’
    ‘How?’ the strange creature asked.
    ‘Do you have a swimmer?’ Athelstan continued, indicating that Cranston should keep quiet. ‘Someone who is not frightened of the currents of the Thames?’
    The Fisher of Men grinned mirthlessly, put a finger to his lips and gave a long whistle.
    ‘Icthus!’
    One of the hooded gargoyles detached himself from the rest and ran forward.
    ‘This is Icthus,’ said the Fisher of Men. ‘We call him that because it is the Greek word for fish. Where they can go, he can follow, can’t you, Icthus?’
    Icthus drew back his hood. Athelstan gazed at him in a mixture of shock, revulsion and compassion. Either he had been born disfigured or he was the victim of some terrible disease. He was very thin. Although only a boy, he was completely bald. But what caught everyone’s horrified attention was his face. It was the face of a fish — with scaly skin, a small, flat nose, a cod-like mouth and eyes so far apart they seemed to be on either side of his head.
    ‘This is Icthus,’ the Fisher of Men repeated. ‘And his fee is one silver piece.’
    Athelstan forced himself to look at the boy.
    ‘Will you swim for us?’ he asked.
    The cod mouth opened. Icthus had no teeth or tongue, only dark red gums. The only sound he could make was a guttural choking noise. But he nodded vigorously in answer to Athelstan’s question.
    ‘Good,’ Athelstan said. ‘Now let’s return to that Godforsaken ship.’ He grinned at Cranston . ‘And no questions, please.’

CHAPTER 13

    The God’s Bright Light was preparing for sea when Cranston and Athelstan and their two strange companions went aboard. The friar was jovially welcomed by the young captain, who listened carefully, studying the Fisher of Men and Icthus. Then he nodded.
    ‘Whatever you want, Brother, but the Thames is a broad river.’
    Athelstan stared around. All signs of the night battle had disappeared. Thankfully, even the French corpses had been removed. He walked over to the ship’s side and stared out towards Queen’s hithe, trying to imagine that dark night and the lamps winking back and forth. Who, he wondered, had been that watcher on the shore? Who had killed Bracklebury? Athelstan stood back. Someone with sharp eyesight could see him from the shore. But, on the night Bracklebury had disappeared a heavy sea mist had been boiling along the river. Athelstan beckoned Cranston over and, watched by a curious ship’s crew, the Fisher of Men led Icthus across by his skinny arm. Athelstan went and pointed over the starboard