Murder most holy

childish face. The self-made artist immediately went up to touch one of his most recent paintings — a brilliant rendition of Daniel in the lion’s den. Next came Tab the tinker, still suffering the effects of too much ale the night before, then Pike the ditcher, leading what looked like a small army of dwarfs. Somehow or other he had become responsible both for his own large brood and for Tab’s.
    Athelstan watched Pike carefully. He knew the ditcher was friendly with the radical peasant leaders both inside and outside the city, known to be constantly plotting rebellion. What concerned Athelstan more was that Pike, together with blondehaired, sweet-faced Cecily the courtesan, was plotting a violent assault on Watkin’s position as leader of the parish council. He sighed, for when that happened, a violent power struggle would ensue.
    Benedicta the widow woman entered, dressed in a light blue kirtle with a white veil over her night black hair. Athelstan’s heart beat a little faster. He lowered his gaze for he loved the widow with an innocent passion which sometimes embarrassed them both.
    Benedicta closed the door and waved to him, then moved away quickly as it was thrown open again and Ursula the pig woman, followed by her evil-looking sow, waddled in.
    ‘I’ll kill that bloody pig!’ Athelstan whispered. ‘I’ll kill it and eat pork for a year!’
    Ursula, however, smiled sweetly at him, then crouched by a pillar, the sow squeezing between her and Watkin. Athelstan had to bite his lip for the pig bore a striking resemblance to the sexton.
    Ursula was usually the last to arrive so he went round to the foot of the altar, made the sign of the cross and began the great mystery of the mass. His small congregation, who had been sitting whispering to each other, now gathered at the entrance to the rood screen, watching intently as their priest began to intercede for them before God.

CHAPTER 2

    Once mass was over, Athelstan invited the members of the parish council across to the priest’s house. Mugwort and Crim were left to clear everything from the sanctuary — altar-cloths, candles, flowers and glasses — as the labourers Athelstan had hired were waiting in the entrance of the church, ready to begin their work. Once assembled, Athelstan served his council cups of wine, intoned the prayer to the Holy Ghost and began the meeting. Within minutes his worst fears were realised and he suspected there had been a great deal of plotting the night before.
    Pike the ditcher, aided and abetted by a smirking Cecily and a red-faced Ursula, launched a vitriolic attack against Watkin, the bone of contention being whether children should be allowed to play in the cemetery or if they could afford the building of a new fence there. Naturally, Watkin’s wife intervened and the row became even more acrimonious. Athelstan just sat back and stared in disbelief at the intense passion of the debaters who argued like lawyers in King’s Bench, pleading over a matter of life and death. Huddle just grinned dreamily, Tab the tinker constantly changed sides, whilst Leif the beggar man, sitting on a stool in the inglenook, his mouth full of Athelstan’s soup, occasionally intervened to shout abuse at Watkin’s wife whom he heartily detested. Benedicta bit her lip and grinned at Athelstan.
    By noon, as his irritation grew, Athelstan sensed they were all becoming exhausted and quickly brought the discussion to an end; he served his guests bowls of the soup Leif was still drinking, slurping noisily from it as he leered at Cecily and shouted abuse at Watkin’s wife.
    For a while silence reigned. Athelstan and Benedicta seized the opportunity to go out into the sunshine and inspect the small garden. The friar not only wanted to evade the heated atmosphere, he was also concerned at Benedicta’s silence. Usually she would intervene to pour oil on troubled waters, or else be taken by a fit of the giggles at the abuse which was exchanged. Benedicta always alleged that the real cause of the power struggle in the parish council was that Watkin’s wife hated Cecily, and Pike the ditcher hated Watkin, because they both jealously suspected that Watkin’s walks with the young courtesan through the cemetery were not always connected with parish business.
    Once outside, Athelstan stood next to Benedicta, listening to the growing commotion from his house and the clanging and crashing from the church where the labourers were now raising the old