Field of Blood

the grass and become one? What happens if I become pregnant?'
    'I cannot stop you doing that,' Athelstan replied coolly.
    'They couldn't do anything about it then.' 'No, they couldn't.'
    'Why do we have to be churched to be married?' she insisted.
    'When a man and woman become one, they imitate the life of the Godhead. God is present. Such a sacred occasion must, in the eyes of the Church, be blessed, and witnessed, by Christ Himself.' 'But Christ will be with us?'
    'Christ is always with you,' Athelstan assured her. 'But will you be with Him?'
    'Brother!' Eleanor lowered her head.
    'Listen.' Athelstan stretched across the table and touched both of them. 'Just trust me. Wait a while, don't do anything stupid, something you'll regret. Love is a marvellous thing, it will always find a way. You may not believe this but God smiles on you, help will come.'
    Eleanor's face softened.
    'Please!' Athelstan pleaded. 'For my sake!'
    The two young lovers promised they would.
    'Now, go straight home!' Athelstan warned as they opened the door. 'You will go straight home, won't you?'
    'Brother, we have given our word.'
    They closed the door behind them. Athelstan put his face in his hands.
    'Oh friar,' he murmured. 'What happens if they can't trust you? What happens if they shouldn't?'
    'Evening, Brother. Talking to yourself? You must want company?'
    The friar took his hands away. 'Come in Godbless, there is enough pie for two.'
    After the meal was finished, Athelstan left Godbless to clear up the kitchen. He took the keys and went across to the church intent on going up the tower, sitting there and studying stars. He'd revel in their glory, let their sheer vastness and majesty clear his mind. He had the key in the church door when he heard the scrape of steel and whirled round. There were five in all, masked and cowled, the leader standing slightly forward from the rest. He wore a red hood and a blue mask with slits for his eyes, nose and mouth.
    'Well, good evening, Brother Athelstan.' The voice was taunting. He gave the most mocking bow. 'Off to study the stars, are we? Perhaps I should join you, it's the nearest I'll get to heaven.'
    Athelstan felt behind him and turned the key in the lock. If necessary, he would flee into the church then lock and bar the door behind him.
    'You know me?' Athelstan tried to control his fear.
    'I understand your good friend the coroner, Sir John Cranston, wishes words with the vicar of hell?'
    Athelstan relaxed. He had met this reprobate before and knew he posed no danger.
    'Why do you come with swords and clubs?' Athelstan asked. 'I walk your streets daily.'
    'So you do, Brother.' The vicar of hell resheathed his sword. 'Whether it be a visit to an alehouse or those strange creatures at the Barque of St Peter.'
    He took off his mask and pushed back his hood, revealing a tanned, sardonic face and oiled black hair, tied in a queue behind. A pearl dangled from one ear lobe, his clean-shaven face had soft, even girlish features, except for the wry twist to the mouth and those ever-shifting eyes.
    'We always have to be so careful with Sir Jack. I mean, here I am, Brother, a former priest, a sometime Jack-the-lad at whose feet all the crimes in London are laid.'
    'Cranston's a man of honour,' Athelstan retorted. 'One day, sir, he'll catch you and you'll hang.'
    'Oh no, I won't, Brother: that's why I brought my boys along, just in case old Jack stands hidden in the shadows with some archers from the Tower. I understand you've been there.' He turned and looked over his shoulder. 'Guard the alleyway,' he ordered softly. 'Let anyone come and go. But, if there's any sign of danger, give the usual signal. Brother Athelstan, shall we go into church?'
    The shadowy figures behind the vicar melted into the darkness. Athelstan turned the key and went in. He led his unexpected visitor up the nave and into the sanctuary where he lit every available candle. The vicar of hell made him open the sacristy and the narrow coffin door which led into the cemetery.
    'Just in case,' the rogue grinned, clapping Athelstan on the shoulder, 'I have to leave a little more speedily than I came.'
    He sat down on the altar boys' bench but kept his head back, hidden in the dancing shadows.
    'I was a priest once, Athelstan.' The vicar picked up the little hand bell. 'How does it go?' He rang the bell. 'Three times for the sanctus.' He rang it again. 'One to warn the faithful that the consecration is near.' Once more he shook the bell.