By Murder's bright Light

right?’
    Athelstan smiled and turned to the captain. Tell me, sir, do the stars move in the heavens?’ Southchurch shrugged. ‘Most people say they do, Father.’
    ‘And you?’
    ‘I once served in the Middle Sea . I met an Egyptian sea captain who claimed the stars didn’t move but the earth was a sphere spinning in the heavens.’
    Athelstan stared up at the dark clouds. He’d heard such theories before.
    ‘Athelstan!’ Cranston snapped.
    The friar winked at Sir John. He stared across at the officers, watching Cabe carefully. The man still seemed deeply shocked by what he had seen that afternoon.
    ‘We’ve found Bracklebury,’ Athelstan said, ‘and we’ve found Alain, but where’s poor Clement’s corpse?’ Athelstan dug into his own purse and gave coins to Icthus and the Fisher of Men. He thanked the captain and grasped Cranston by the elbow.
    ‘Come on, Sir John, enough is enough. God knows I have had my fill of human wickedness.’
    A bumboat took their ashore. They walked quietly back through the warren of streets to the Holy Lamb of God, where Athelstan could collect his horse.
    Cranston grew increasingly infuriated at the friar’s prolonged silence. Athelstan even refused refreshment, muttering he must get back to St Erconwald’s.
    ‘Brother!’ Cranston roared in exasperation as Athelstan made ready to leave. ‘What are you thinking about?’
    Athelstan shook his head. ‘I don’t even know myself, Sir John.’
    ‘Should I issue a description of Clement?’ Cranston asked. The coroner hawked and spat. ‘At this rate I’m going to make a bloody fool of myself. Every time I look for someone he turns out to be drowned!’ He glanced at his companion. ‘You still haven’t told me how Bracklebury and Alain were killed!’
    Athelstan stood in the stable yard waiting for Philomel to be saddled. ‘Bracklebury, Alain and Clement were all drugged.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know how or by whom, but when I examined Bracklebury’s corpse I surmised someone had tied a weight around his neck and tossed him overboard. A vigorous man, Bracklebury must have been unconscious not to resist. However, there’s no bruise to his head or wound in his body, hence my conclusion that he had been drugged.’ Athelstan paused to greet Philomel. ‘The same fate befell Alain and Clement. They were probably all thrown overboard from the deck near the stem castle; this, and the heavy river mist, would give the assassin every protection.’
    ‘So, how did Bracklebury’s corpse surface?’ Cranston asked.
    Athelstan smiled. ‘For that we must thank Eustace the Monk.’ He grasped the fat coroner’s arm. ‘Just think, Sir John, the dipping oars of the galleys, their crashing into our ships, the corpses tumbling into the river making the water eddy and swirl.’ Athelstan scratched his head. The assassin must have worked quickly. Perhaps the rope around Bracklebury’s neck wasn’t so secure and worked loose, aided, perhaps, by the battle. The weight slips away, the corpse surfaces.’ Athelstan shrugged. ‘And the deep gave up its dead. The discovery of Alain’s corpse simply proves my—’ He smiled. ‘Our theory.’ He patted Cranston ’s shoulder. ‘So, forget about Clement, only God knows where his poor corpse is.’
    ‘And the murderer?’ Cranston snapped.
    Athelstan seized Philomel’s reins, mounted and stared down at Cranston .
    ‘Sir John, go home, kiss the Lady Maude, play with the poppets. Rest and think.’ He urged Philomel forward, leaving an even more infuriated Cranston glaring speechlessly behind him.
    Athelstan found St Erconwald’s quiet. Marston had long disappeared and so had the parishioners who had been working on the stage. Huddle’s painting of the backcloth was at last near completion and for a while the friar stood gazing in silent admiration at the great mouth of Hell, from which sprang black demons with the red faces of monkeys. Behind the canvas he found the metal pans and wooden tubs that Crim and the other boys would use to create sounds. He picked up the silver trumpet that would be blown before God spoke. He put it to his lips and blew a short blast then blushed with embarrassment as Ashby suddenly appeared from behind the rood screen.
    ‘Father, what’s the matter?’
    ‘Nicholas, I had forgotten you were still here. Are you well?’
    ‘Yes, Aveline has just left. She says Marston has fled.’
    ‘And do you need anything?’ Athelstan asked, hoping