Murder most holy

beneath.’
    ‘Could Alcuin have been thrown into the vault?’
    ‘I doubt it. Remember, Bruno’s coffin was lowered there. Our lay brothers may not be the brightest of people but they would certainly notice the corpse of one of their brethren lying about.’ Athelstan pointed to the prie-dieu and stared round, taking in the life-sized statues standing in their niches. ‘This is the last place Alcuin was seen alive,’ he murmured. ‘Father Prior is certain he went into the church. But what happened then?’
    His half-whisper sounded eerie in the silence and Cranston , despite the beauty of the church, felt a shiver of menace.
    ‘I don’t know, Brother,’ he replied, ‘I really don’t. But I feel we are standing at the mouth of the Valley of Death !’

CHAPTER 6

    Athelstan and Cranston stood for a while discussing the possibilities behind Alcuin’s disappearance before walking back into the main area of the sanctuary.
    ‘I am hungry,’ Cranston mumbled.
    ‘You’re always hungry. There’s something else you have got to see before we eat.’
    Sir John pulled his face into a sulk like a little boy who has been refused a sweetmeat.
    ‘My Lord Coroner,’ Athelstan continued patiently, ‘you have been called here to investigate. So what does a coroner do?’ Cranston leaned against the wall.
    ‘Views the corpse,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘What do you suggest, Athelstan, dig up Brother Bruno?’
    ‘No, but Callixtus lies waiting for burial.’
    ‘Come on, Athelstan,’ Cranston mumbled. ‘First work, then eat!’
    They left the church and walked back through the cloisters to the refectory where an old lay brother stood on duty. Athelstan beckoned him over.
    ‘My apologies,’ he whispered. ‘But be so courteous as to go and tell Father Prior that Sir John Cranston needs to view Brother Callixtus’s body.’
    The lay brother looked surprised but, at Athelstan’s urging, went into the refectory. Athelstan stood by the half-open door, watching the candlelight set the shadows flickering. He listened to the lector read from the lives of the saints as the rest of the community ate their silent meal, the serenity broken only by the clatter of pots and the patter of sandalled feet.
    The lay brother returned.
    ‘Father Prior has agreed to your request,’ he announced. ‘Brother Callixtus lies in the infirmary and I have to take you there.’
    The infirmary stood a slight distance from the rest of the buildings. A brother, his robes covered by a white apron, greeted them and took them to the back of the building where a small lime-washed room served as a mortuary.
    ‘We have done what we can,’ the infirmarian muttered. ‘Brother Callixtus will be buried on Saturday.’
    He waved them over to the lonely table covered by a white, purple-edged pall. Athelstan drew back the sheet. Callixtus’s body had been washed and dressed in the full robes of a Dominican monk yet the manner of his death was obvious: his thin, sour face was covered in purple-black bruises. Athelstan studied the pinched features. Already the nose had sharpened, the cheeks were more hollow, the eyes sunken into their sockets. He felt a surge of compassion as he remembered Callixtus in his prime, with his sharp brain and sardonic sense of humour. He carefully studied the gash which scarred the temple of the dead friar. The embalmer had done his best but Athelstan saw how deep the gash was, sharp and broad like a furrow in a field.
    ‘Brother!’ he called out. ‘Did you collect Callixtus’s corpse from the library?’
    ‘Yes, I did.’
    ‘And he had struck his head against the stones or some sharp object?’
    ‘He was just lying on the floor.’
    ‘What have you found?’ Cranston came closer. He felt a little nauseous. His stomach was empty and his nose wrinkled at the sour smell of the room.
    ‘Look, Sir John. Brother Callixtus’s fall bruised his face and head, but I suspect that this is the death wound.’ He pointed to the gash in Callixtus’s temple.
    Athelstan folded the sheet back over the corpse. ‘What I am saying,’ he whispered, ‘is that Callixtus fell but then he was struck by something sharp. Oh.’ Athelstan turned to the infirmarian. ‘When you removed Brother Bruno’s corpse from the crypt, was the torch alight?’
    ‘Of course. The place is as black as night. Alcuin discovered the corpse. Ah!’ The infirmarian’s fingers flew to his lips. ‘Yes, I thought that was