Field of Blood

to stop there. Such merchandise was very rare and Athelstan, who was determined to study the night sky before winter set in, was always keen on discovering some book on astronomy or astrology. Such manuscripts were now flooding into the country, brought by travellers from the East and hastily copied by scribes and scriveners. Nevertheless, he had to press on. Once darkness fell, the fisher of men would set sail on his barge.
    Athelstan heaved a sigh of relief when he rounded a corner and saw the fisher of men sitting on a bench outside his chapel. He was surrounded by his strange crew, outcasts and lepers, their faces and hands bound in dirty linen bandages. Only one was different, a young boy called Icthus. He had no hair, eyebrows or eyelids and, with his protuberant eyes, pouting lips and thin-ribbed body, he looked like a fish and, indeed, could swim like one.
    Very few people approached these men who combed the waters of the Thames for corpses. Outside the chapel was a proclamation bearing the charges for bodies recovered:
    Accidents 3d. Suicides 4d. Murders 6d. The mad and the insane 9d.
    The fisher of men rose as Athelstan approached.
    'You have business with me, Brother?'
    The fisher of men pulled back his cowl, his skulllike face bright with pleasure.
    No one knew his origins. Some whispered that he was a sailor who had found his wife and children killed by marauders. He had lost his wits, wandered in the wastelands north of the city, before coming back to take up this most grisly position as an official of the City Corporation. He clapped his hands and a stool was produced from inside the chapel. The friar sat down.
    'You wish to view a corpse?' the fisher of men asked. 'We have a fine array of goods today, Brother. A young man, deep in his cups, who tried to swim the Thames last night; a woman who threw herself off a bridge; a soldier from the Tower, as well as the usual collection of animals: five dogs, three cats, a sow and a pet weasel.' He grasped the skeletal arm of Icthus, his chief assistant. 'All plucked from the river by this child of God. And where is Sir John?' the fisher of men prattled on. 'The lord coroner does not visit me? I saw him today, coming out of Master Bapaume's, the goldsmith's.'
    'It's good to see you sir,' Athelstan replied. 'And may Christ smile on you and your endeavours. Sir John and I are involved in certain mysteries.'
    'And you need my help?'
    'Yes sir, we need your help.'
    The thin, bony hands spread out. Athelstan noticed how long and clean the nails were, more like talons than human limbs.
    'We have costs, Brother. I have a family to keep; pleasures to make.'
    'What pleasures?' Athelstan asked curiously.
    The fisher of men leaned forward. 'I visit Old Mother Harrowtooth on London Bridge. She offers me relief.'
    'Yes, yes, quite.' Athelstan opened his purse and took out a silver coin, one of those Bladdersniff had handed over.
    The fisher of men's eyes gleamed but Athelstan held on to the coin.
    'I want to tell you a story,' the friar continued.
    'When you are holding a piece of silver, Brother, I don't care how long it is.'
    'I am an assassin,' Athelstan began.
    The fisher of men started rocking backwards and forwards with laughter. The rest of his crew joined
    'I am an assassin,' Athelstan repeated. 'I am riding back through the fields of Southwark. I do not cross the bridge. Instead, I dismount somewhere opposite Billingsgate or even the Wool Quay, a fairly deserted spot. I am disguised and intend to cross the river by barge.'
    'So, it's useless making enquiries among the boatmen?' the fisher of men broke in.
    'Precisely. I cross hidden by the cloak and cowl I have brought with me.'
    'But you have to get rid of the horse?' The fisher of men's thin lips parted in a smile. 'In Southwark, that would be easy enough. A horse left wandering by itself is soon taken. What else, Brother?'
    'I don't really care if the horse is taken or not,' Athelstan explained. 'But its harness and housings?'
    'Ah, I see.' The fisher of men smiled. 'That must not be discovered. Very difficult to hide eh, Brother? So, if I were an assassin, I would go out somewhere along the mud flats and throw it into the river. If I understand you correctly, you wish us to search for it? A heavy saddle would sink and lie in the mud. However, it might take months before it was completely covered over.'
    'Can you do it?'
    'Before darkness falls: Brother, our barge awaits.'
    'There is one other matter,' Athelstan