Field of Blood

'And how can Kathryn explain such profits?'
    He went through the items bought. A number of entries chilled his blood. Margot Haden was apparently a favourite of Mistress Kathryn. A list of expenses showed cloaks, caps, gowns and petticoats, shoes, belts and embroidered purses bought for the young chambermaid. At one item Athelstan closed his eyes.
    'O Jesu miserere!' he prayed.
    He picked up the ledger, holding it close to the candlelight, and read the item aloud.
    'For a Book of Hours, bought for the said Margot Haden, so she could recite her prayers and make her own entries.'
    Athelstan threw the ledger down on the floor. He was sure the documents Whittock had seized would show similar entries. How could Kathryn Vestler explain why she had burned what she described as 'paltry items'? A Book of Hours? Hadn't Kathryn Vestler really destroyed important evidence which, in any court, would surely send her to the scaffold?

Chapter 11
    'Ecce Agnus Dei. Ecce qui tollis peccata mundi: Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world!'
    Athelstan stood with his back to the altar and lifted the host above the chalice. He was celebrating a late Mass and most of his parishioners were present, huddled in the entrance to the rood screen. Athelstan turned back to the altar. He ate the host and drank from the chalice.
    'May the body and blood of Christ,' he whispered, 'be not to my damnation but a source of eternal life.' He closed his eyes. 'Help me Lord,' he prayed. 'Make me as innocent as a dove and as cunning as a serpent. Send Your spirit to guide me. I thank You for the great favour You have shown.'
    Athelstan could have hugged himself. He'd fallen asleep in the chair and woken in the early hours of the morning to see the scrap of parchment Benedicta had kindly pushed under the door. Master Burdon had told the truth. Athelstan, for the first time, could see a path through the tangle of troubles besetting him.
    He heard a commotion at the back of the church and looked round. The fisher of men had entered with his strange coven around him. This caused consternation among the parishioners. The fisher of men was much feared, regarded as an outcast, and the members of St Erconwald's hastened to move away. Athelstan, however, continued with the Mass. He brought the ciborium down and distributed the hosts. He then went out into the nave and held a host up before the fisher of men.
    'Ecce Corpus Christi! Behold the Body of Christ!'
    The fisher of men's eyes filled with tears.
    'We are not worthy, Brother.'
    'No man is,' Athelstan said. 'Ecce Corpus Christi!' 'Amen!'
    The fisher of men closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Athelstan put the host on his tongue. He then moved round the other members of the coven. Some objected. Athelstan felt a deep compassion for these most wretched of people, their eyes and mouths ringed with sores. He walked back to the altar and finished the Mass. However, he did not return to the sacristy but stood on the top of the altar
    'The fisher of men,' he told his congregation, 'is my guest.'
    'Brother.' Watkin spoke up. 'They search for the dead and…'
    'Do their job well, Watkin, just like you sweep the streets of Southwark.'
    'They are ugly,' Pernell the Fleming woman objected.
    Athelstan, looking at her garish hair, thought he had never seen such a clear case of the pot calling the pan black.
    'God does not think they are ugly,' Athelstan replied. 'All He sees are His children.'
    A murmur of dissent greeted his words.
    'They are our guests,' Athelstan urged. 'Now go, the Mass is ended!'
    He went into the nave of the church where the fisher of men sat with his back to one of the pillars, his motley crew around him.
    'Would you like something to eat or drink?' Athelstan asked.
    'No, Brother, what you did and what you said is good enough.' The fisher of men's skull-like face broke into a grin; he grasped the shoulder of young Icthus who stared, fish-like, his cod mouth protuberant. 'Go on boy,' the fisher of men said. 'Show what we found.'
    The parishioners on the other side of the church watched anxiously. Icthus skipped down the nave and Athelstan saw a bundle just inside the doorway covered with a canvas sheet. It was still dripping wet. Icthus picked it up and placed it at Athelstan's feet. When the fisher of men triumphantly plucked the sheet away Athelstan gazed down at a dirty, mud-slimed saddle, beneath whose heavy leather horn was the royal escutcheon. He turned the saddle