By Murder's bright Light

hps.
    ‘Father, do you have a crucifix or holy water?’
    ‘Yes, of course I do. Why?’
    ‘Well, there’s a demon in the church!’
    ‘A what? Watkin, have you been drinking?’
    ‘Father, there’s a demon! Crim saw it. Standing in the entrance to the rood screen!’
    ‘Oh, don’t be stupid!’ Athelstan said. ‘Watkin, stand out of the way!’
    ‘I don’t think you should go in, Father!’
    ‘Don’t be stupid! Out of my way!’
    Athelstan pushed by and entered the darkened nave. No lights or candles burnt and, peering through the dusk, he could make out the outlines of the stage, the entrance to the rood screen and the red tabernacle light winking in the sanctuary. Athelstan carefully walked down the church, surprised to feel the fear starting in his belly.
    ‘Who’s there?’ he called.
    No answer.
    ‘In the name of God!’ Athelstan shouted. ‘Who is there?’ He heard a sound and his anxiety deepened. A tall, dark figure appeared in the entrance to the rood screen, dressed in black from head to toe. He looked like some huge goat with demon features, huge sweeping horns, made all the more ghastly by the thick, fat tallow candle he carried.
    ‘Go and hang thyself, priest!’
    Athelstan relaxed and closed his eyes.
    ‘Sir John, for the love of God! You’ve got half of my parish terrified!’
    Behind the mask Sir John’s laugh boomed louder than ever. The coroner swaggered down the church, every inch the terrible demon.
    ‘Do you like my costume, Brother? I thought I’d give you a surprise. You should have seen old Watkin move!’ Cranston ’s voice boomed like a bell. ‘I never knew the tub of lard could skip so quickly!’
    ‘Take it off, Sir John.’
    The coroner struggled and lifted the mask. His great, red face was bathed in sweat and wreathed in a wicked smile.
    The Drapers’ Guild lent me it,’ he declared, holding the mask up appreciatively. ‘What do you think, Father?’
    ‘Even the Lord Satan himself would be envious, Sir John.’
    ‘Good, I thought you would say that.’
    Cranston went and sat at the foot of one of the pillars. He put the candle down beside him and beckoned Athelstan to join him.
    ‘Come on, priest. I am not only here for pleasure; there has been another murder.’
    Athelstan sat beside him and stared at the flickering candle flame. He felt a tingle of excitement in his stomach and knew the prior was wrong; he would never exchange this for some dry, dusty schoolroom.
    “There’s been a murder,’ Cranston went on, ‘in an alley just off Walbrook. At the Golden Magpie — a fine tavern with a boisterous landlord. To cut a long story short, earlier today mine host was found in a cellar with his brains dashed out, yet the door to the cellar was locked and no one saw anyone go in or leave.’
    ‘And you have begun questioning already, Sir John?’
    ‘Yes, I have. Now, tell me, Brother, how can anyone get into a cellar, dash a man’s brains out, yet the door be locked from the inside? There’s no sign of forced entry. No one saw anyone go anywhere near that door.’
    Athelstan scratched his chin. ‘But that’s impossible, Sir John.’
    The coroner began to shake with laughter. ‘Of course, it is. I made it up.’
    Athelstan nudged him vigorously in the side. The coroner threw his head back and roared with laughter.
    ‘No, no, Brother, we have had murders enough. The only business that concerns me is that Alice Frogmore has brought a fresh bill of trespass against Thomas the Toad. Have I ever told you about Thomas the Toad?’
    Athelstan sighed and got to his feet. ‘No, Sir John, you have not. But I have a dreadful feeling you are going to!’
    ‘That’s right, monk, we are off to see that one-armed pirate in the Piebald tavern. We are going to have a jug of claret, a dish of fried onions, two of his beef pies, some fresh manchet bread then we’ll come back here and rehearse this bloody play once and for all! And, if there’s any more trouble between God the Father and God the Holy Ghost, I’ll knock their heads together!’ Cranston lumbered to his feet and picked up the demon mask. ‘Do you think it suits me, Brother?’
    ‘Yes, but don’t show the poppets or they’ll scream.’
    ‘Oh, I have. They thought it was funny, but the dogs flew under the table. I gave a hell of a fright to that idle bugger, Leif.’ Cranston put the mask on. ‘Come on, let’s frighten old Watkin!’ He swaggered towards the church door.
    ‘Sir John,’