Field of Blood

proceedings.
    'I plead guilty,' Alice said. 'But I killed in self-defence. I wish to approve.'
    'Do you know what that means?' 'Yes, my lord. I have committed a terrible crime but I know of another who has done worse.' 'Continue. But be specific'
    'I accuse,' Brokestreet's voice rose, 'Kathryn Vestler, owner of the Paradise Tree, of the horrible murders of Margot Haden and Bartholomew Menster.'
    Athelstan turned quickly. Mistress Vestler was sitting upright in shock.
    'When did these murders occur?'
    'Over two months ago, my lord.'
    'And how do you know?'
    'I helped bury their cadavers beneath an oak tree in Black Meadow which runs behind the tavern down to the Thames.'
    'And how did these murders occur?'
    'Margot was a chambermaid at the tavern. Bartholomew was a clerk of the records in the Tower. He was attracted to her and often visited the tavern. Mistress Vestler became jealous of their friendship. One night they stayed late, well after the chimes of midnight. I was roused from my sleep by Mistress Vestler.' She paused as her former employer began to weep noisily.
    Sir Henry's head turned like a guard dog ready to attack.
    'Silence in court!' he thundered. Master Hengan put his hand on Mistress Vestler's shoulder.
    'Hush,' he whispered. 'This is nothing but trickery!' 'Continue.'
    'I was brought down to the taproom. Bartholomew…' Brokestreet's voice faded. And Margot were both slumped over the table. Mistress Vestler had administered a deadly potion.'
    'No! No! No!' The accused woman jumped to her feet, eyes staring. She shook her hands. 'These are lies! This is not true!'
    Sir Henry caught Sir John's eye and smiled thinly. His gaze shifted.
    'Master Hengan, it is you, is it not?'
    'Yes, my lord.'
    'And this Mistress Vestler? Well, remove her from the court and compose her. But not too far: we may soon want words with her.'
    Hengan, assisted by Sir John, helped the shaken, moaning woman to her feet, out of the makeshift gallery and down into the well of the court. Sir John returned to sit beside Athelstan.
    'I am glad you are here. We may have need of your expertise,' Sir Henry cooed, as his pebble-black eyes moved to Athelstan. 'And your good secretarius. I saw you come, Sir Jack.'
    Sir John leaned over to hide behind the man in front while he took a generous swig from the miraculous wineskin.
    'If I wasn't so busy, Sir Jack,' Sir Henry called out without even glancing across, 'I'd ask for a drink from that myself!'
    Before any eyebrows could be raised or questions asked, he gestured at Brokestreet to continue.
    'The tavern was silent. The night was a black one, no moon, no stars.'
    'Which month, Mistress Brokestreet?'
    'I believe June, my lord: sudden storms had swept in.'
    'You have a good memory?'
    'My lord, Mistress Vestler said the rain would make the ground softer.' 'Proceed!'
    'We brought a handcart into the taproom and placed the two corpses on. We took them out around the side of the tavern, through the herb gardens and into Black Meadow.'
    'If it was so dark,' Sir Henry interrupted, 'how could you see?'
    'Mistress Vestler lit lantern horns: two if I remember correctly. One she placed at the entrance to the meadow, the other at the foot of the great oak tree.'
    'And the corpses?'
    'We wheeled them out together. Mistress Vestler had a mattock and hoe. We dug a shallow pit and threw the corpses in. My lord, I was afeared. Mistress Vestler is a cunning woman and she threatened me. I later left her service and she gave me good silver to keep my mouth closed.'
    'Heavens above!' Sir John whispered. 'I remember Bartholomew Menster. He was quite a senior clerk in the Tower. People wondered what had happened to him.'
    Brabazon lifted the sprig of rosemary to his nose, sniffing at it carefully, eyes intent on Brokestreet. Sir John might be right, Athelstan reflected: the chief justice had a heart of flint but he was no man's fool. He had not taken a liking to the prisoner at the bar.
    'You do realise what you are saying?' Sir Henry asked, lowering the sprig of rosemary.
    'It is a very grave matter,' one of the other justices now asserted, 'to go on oath and accuse another citizen of hideous murder.'
    'I will go even further,' Brokestreet answered defiantly. 'The Paradise Tree is a busy place. People coming and going as they pleased. For all I know, my lord, there may be other corpses in that field.'
    'A true Haceldama,' Sir Henry said, quoting from the scriptures. 'A Potter's Field, a Field of Blood. Well,