Field of Blood

grasping her fingers and rubbing them between his. 'But, if you could clear the shriving pew, put my stole back, feed Bonaventure. Oh, and Philomel will need more oats,' he added, referring to his old war horse who spent most of his life eating or sleeping.
    'Heaven forfend!'
    Athelstan turned as Godbless the beggarman, with little Thaddeus the goat in tow, came out of the cemetery rubbing his eyes.
    'Benedicta, you deal with him! Bladdersniff.' Athelstan grasped the beadle by the arm. 'If we stay here much longer we'll have the entire parish around us.'
    He marched Bladdersniff across the open space and along the alleyway leading down to the main thoroughfare. Although he was of short stature, Athelstan moved briskly, keeping his eye on the water-filled sewer down the centre while trying to avoid the gaze of many of his parishioners.
    'God bless you Brother!' a girlish voice shouted.
    Cecily the courtesan was standing in the entrance to the Piebald tavern. Athelstan glared at her. She had her arm round Ronald, elder son of Ranulf the rat-catcher. On a bench beside her, Ursula the pig woman was sharing a tankard of ale with her big, fat sow. The pig snorted with pleasure. Athelstan bared his teeth at this great plunderer of his vegetable patch. Tab the tinker, Huddle the painter, Manger the hangman and Moleskin the boatman stood further down the thoroughfare grouped round Tab's stall.
    'Is anything wrong?' Huddle called, flicking his long hair back.
    Athelstan stopped. 'I need your help at the church,' he said sweetly. 'Go back there. Watkin will tell you everything. There's a quart of ale for each of you.' He held up a warning hand so Bladdersniff wouldn't add any gory details. 'For all who help.'
    The whole group set off like greyhounds from the slips, eager to see what work would earn such a bountiful reward
    Athelstan pressed on. It was now early afternoon and the denizens of Southwark were out looking for mischief: pickpockets, foists, those shadowy inhabitants of the underworld eager for petty profit before darkness fell. Some avoided his eye; others raised their hands in salutation or shouted abuse about Bladdersniff and his fiery red nose.
    At last they entered an alleyway which led down to the fields. They crossed the narrow wooden bridge which spanned the brook and went up the great meadow to the brow of the hill where the ruins of Simon the miser's house stood gaunt and open to the sky. Some children played at the far end of the meadow. A woman sat there keeping them busy plaiting garlands of grass. Athelstan raised his hand in benediction.
    'Thank you!' he shouted across. 'Keep the children well away!'
    Bladdersniff led him through the ruined front door, along a hollow passageway and into a dark, smelly parlour where the air reeked of animal urine and excrement. The walls were mildewed, the stone floor cracked and weeds now thrust themselves up through the gaps.
    'A terrible place to die,' Athelstan noted. 'At night this place must be dark as…'
    'Hell's window,' Bladdersniff offered hopefully.
    'Aye, hell's window.'
    At first Athelstan could see nothing untoward until he noticed the remains of a fire. He crouched down to examine it more carefully.
    'A few twigs. But the nights aren't cold; this was lit to provide light rather than warmth.'
    He crawled across the floor and noticed two pools of sticky blood.
    'These belong to the young whore and her customer.' Athelstan pointed back to the doorway. 'Only God knows what happened but I believe this dreadful room witnessed hideous murder. The young man was either lured here and killed, or murdered elsewhere, and his corpse brought here to be stripped of any mark of recognition. The assassin lights a fire to provide some light as he carries out his grisly task.'
    Athelstan went over and stood by the door.
    'Suddenly,' he explained to the gaping Bladdersniff, 'the assassin hears voices: a young whore is bringing one of her customers in. He hurriedly stamps out the fire, takes an arbalest and allows his next victims into the room. He releases the catch, the man dies. The young woman stands terrified.' Athelstan strode across the room. 'She's like a rabbit before a stoat. Before she can recover, he's across, knife out, her throat is slashed and the assassin leaves.'
    'By all that's holy!' Bladdersniff coughed. 'Brother, you must have the second sight.'
    'No, I had Father Anselm.' Athelstan grinned. 'He owned a very hard ferrule.' He rubbed his fingers. 'Father