Field of Blood

she was.'
    Athelstan glanced at Sir John.
    'Oh, forgive me,' the friar whispered. 'Lost in my own troubles I should have questioned those people myself.'
    Whittock, apparently distracted by the whisper, glanced across and smiled.
    'And what happened then, Master Tapler?'
    'Mistress Vestler urged us to leave, customers included.'
    'Why?'
    'I had the distinct impression,' Tapler's voice fell to a mumble, 'that she was expecting someone.' Whittock smiled from ear to ear. 'Master Tapler, I thank you.'

Chapter 13
    Hengan did his best with the ale-taster but it was a losing battle. In fact, the more he questioned the more damaging it became.
    'It was very rare for Mistress Vestler to urge us to leave the tavern early, so why that night?'
    Hengan realised the harm he was doing, stopped his questioning and Tapler was dismissed.
    'She'll hang,' Sir John murmured. 'God save us, Athelstan, but I think she's guilty myself.'
    'The court calls Isobel Haden!' the clerk shouted.
    Athelstan's head came up. A young woman came out of the adjoining chamber into the well of the court. The clerk escorted her to the witness stand and again the oath was taken. Whittock was now thoroughly enjoying himself.
    'We have your name and occupation,' he began. 'You are a seamstress in the parish of St Mary Bethlehem near Holywell. And your sister Margot was a tavern wench at the Paradise Tree?'
    'Yes, sir.'
    Sir Henry was now leaning forward. 'Did your sister enjoy her work?' 'Yes, sir, she did.'
    'How do you know that? Come on, girl, tell the court.'
    'My sister wrote me letters.'
    'My lord.' Whittock glanced at Sir Henry. 'If necessary, I can produce these letters.'
    The chief justice looked at Hengan who shook his head despairingly.
    'So, your sister, even though only a tavern wench, was lettered?' Whittock asked.
    'Oh yes, sir, our father was a wool merchant. We attended the parish school and learned our horn books. He was very proud of Margot.' Her voice trembled. 'She could read and write.'
    'So she was more than just a tavern wench?' Whittock insisted. 'A young woman who might well attract the likes of Bartholomew Menster?'
    'Yes, sir. Margot only entered service because she wanted to leave the parish. A good lass, Margot,' Isobel continued defiantly, looking balefully down at Mistress Vestler. 'She would have made a fine marriage.'
    'And your sister wrote to you about her work?'
    'To be honest, sir, she liked the Paradise Tree. Miss Vestler was kind: she gave her money, clothes, as well as a Book of Hours.'
    'Did she now?' Whittock purred. 'My lord, a matter we will return to in the very near future. Mistress Isobel, in those letters, your sister told you how she had met Bartholomew Menster, a clerk of the Tower, that he was sweet on her but Mistress Vestler did not like it?'
    'Indeed, on one occasion, Master Bartholomew had sharp words with her.'
    'Over what?' Whittock persisted.
    'According to the letter, Mistress Vestler had snapped: "I wish you'd leave the matter alone. You have my thoughts on it." '
    'And you think Mistress Vestler was talking about your sister?'
    'Yes, sir, and Margot did as well.'
    'Did Bartholomew propose to your sister?'
    'Yes, sir, he did. Margot had high hopes that they would exchange vows at the church door.'
    'Did your sister talk about anything else?'
    'Oh yes, sir.' Isobel paused and dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of her brown smock.
    Athelstan could see Isobel had been well prepared for this. She was undoubtedly telling the truth but Whittock's questions were extracting this piece by piece so the jury could follow and understand the way he was leading.
    'Tell us,' Whittock said softly.
    'My sister wrote that Master Bartholomew had high hopes of tracing certain lost treasures.'
    Her words created murmurs in the court. Sir Henry tapped his knee excitedly.
    'My lord.' Whittock walked back to the foot of the steps and glanced up at the justices. 'There seems to be good evidence that Gundulf, Bishop of Rochester, who built the Tower, may have buried his treasure somewhere in the grounds of the Paradise Tree.'
    'And have you looked for this treasure?' Sir Henry asked.
    'My lord, I have conducted a careful search of the gardens and cellars.' Whittock smiled. 'That's how we found the casks of wine which had not passed through customs.'
    'My lord.' Hengan sprang to his feet. 'Is this relevant? Is Mistress Vestler being accused of seizing treasure trove and hiding it from the Crown? She is on trial for murder, not