Murder most holy

any progress and was now considering what he should do about the wager he had accepted. I can’t raise a thousand crowns, he thought morosely. Athelstan’s as poor as a church mouse. To beg from Lady Maude’s relatives would be humiliation indeed. So should he either accept John of Gaunt’s offer of help or be dismissed as a caitiff who did not honour his debts? Cranston ground his teeth together. ‘Hell’s tits!’ he muttered and glared at Athelstan, now lost in his own thoughts. Sir John slammed down the tankard, went outside and stood listening to the tolling of the monastery bells.
    ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ he muttered. ‘I should be back in my own chamber, taking care of my own problems.’
    Suddenly Athelstan was beside him, linking his arm through Cranston ’s.
    ‘Come on, Sir John. One thing at a time. We still have over a week left before we return to the Savoy Palace .’
    Cranston felt himself relax. ‘We?’ he asked hopefully.
    ‘Of course, Sir John. If you fail, then I must be there. But,’ he released the coroner’s arm and squeezed Cranston ’s podgy elbow, ‘with God’s help, all will be well. Now come, the prior awaits us.’
    They found the Inner Chapter assembled in Father Anselm’s chamber, grouped as they had been on the first day Athelstan had met them. Brothers Peter and Niall now looked anxious and secretive, Brother Henry composed, whilst the Master Inquisitor and Brother Eugenius sat like hunting dogs, glaring at Athelstan and Sir John.
    ‘Another death,’ Eugenius intoned. ‘And what progress have you made, Athelstan?’
    Prior Anselm rapped on the table. ‘Let our brother speak, Eugenius, and be more temperate. We will begin with a prayer.’ The prior crossed himself, forcing the others to join him as he said a brief prayer to the Holy Ghost for guidance and counsel. ‘Well,’ he resumed briskly, ‘Athelstan, you asked for this meeting?’
    ‘Father Prior, I thank you, as I do the rest, for joining us here. First, Brother Henry, I read your treatise. I found it lucid and brilliant, difficult to view it as heretical. Secondly, Callixtus did not fall in the library. He was pushed and his skull broken by a candlestick.’ Athelstan held up his hand to quell the agitated questions. ‘I have found the candlestick and My Lord Coroner has viewed and accepted it as proof. Thirdly,’ he continued, ignoring the supercilious smiles of the Inquisitors, ‘Brother Roger has died, but he did not kill himself. He was garrotted and then it was made to look as if he had hanged himself. Fourthly, his death and those of the others are linked to business of this Chapter’s, though how and why I still don’t know. Now I could ask everyone here, including Father Prior, to account for his movements on the days Bruno, Roger and Callixtus died, but Blackfriars is a large community with sprawling buildings. It would take an eternity to establish the facts, if it were even possible.’
    ‘You do not mention Alcuin?’ Brother Niall spoke up, his abrupt tone betraying his lilting Gaelic accent.
    ‘Yes,' added Eugenius. ‘How do we know that Alcuin is not the murderer? Perhaps he still lurks somewhere in Black-friars. After all, Athelstan, you did say it is a sprawling place: it has nooks and crannies rarely if ever visited by anyone.’
    ‘Nonsense!’ snapped Anselm.
    ‘No, Father Prior, Eugenius is right,’ Athelstan intervened. ‘Brother Alcuin is still here, though he’s dead.’
    ‘Where?’ they all chorused at once.
    ‘Father Prior, when is the Requiem Mass sung for Roger?’
    ‘At noon today. We cannot wait until tomorrow. The church is very strict. No Requiem Masses to be sung on a Sunday.’
    ‘Then, Father Prior, I insist that the burial takes place on Monday.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because I wish the burial vault beneath the sanctuary to be opened and Bruno’s coffin raised. When it is open, we shall find Brother Alcuin.’
    ‘Sacrilege!’ the Master Inquisitor shouted. ‘Desecration! Athelstan, you walk on very thin ice.’
    ‘Sacrilege, my dear Inquisitor, is a matter of the will — as indeed is all sin. I intend no offence, to Brother Bruno, may God rest him.’ Athelstan appealed to the prior. ‘You called me here to search out the truth and resolve a dreadful mystery. Brother Bruno’s coffin must be opened.’
    ‘We object!’ the Inquisitors chorused.
    The prior tapped his fingers on the table top. ‘I see no objections to Athelstan’s wish.