Murder most holy

prayed with, eaten and drunk with, now brutally murdered, his corpse stuffed into a coffin like some filthy rag. He gently halfpushed the body over, trying not to look at the staring eyes and blue-black face, the protuberant swollen tongue. He pulled down the collar of the dead friar’s gown and saw the thin, purplish line of a garrotte.
    ‘For God’s sake, Father Prior!’ Cranston called out. Anselm, white-faced, his eyes staring in horror, just stood rooted to the spot. The others, unable to look, had gone back round the altar, except for Brother Norbert.
    ‘You seem a sturdy fellow,’ Cranston continued. ‘Quick, get a burial sheet and coffin. Go on, man!’
    Norbert scurried off and Cranston reasserted himself. He took Athelstan by the arm.
    ‘Come on, Brother,’ he said gently. ‘Come away. Father Prior needs your help.’
    Athelstan tore his eyes from the disfigured corpse and walked over to Anselm.
    ‘Father Prior,’ he whispered, and grasped Anselm’s hand which felt like ice. ‘Father, come with us.’ He gripped the man by the shoulder and gave him a vigorous shake. There’s nothing we can do here.’

CHAPTER 10

    Father Prior allowed himself to be led away like some frightened child. Once he reached the choir stalls, he looked strangely at his companions as the full horror of what he had seen caught up with him. Covering his mouth with his hand, the prior walked quickly down the nave to retch and vomit outside the main door of the church.
    Athelstan stood watching the rest: Henry of Winchester sat with his head in his hands; Brothers Niall and Peter, their faces white, crouched whispering to each other; whilst the two Inquisitors sat like men of straw, staring vacantly across the sanctuary. Athelstan forced himself to relax, breathing in deeply, trying to calm his stomach, to curb the urge to scream and yell at the blasphemy he had just seen.
    Norbert and others returned with a canvas sheet and a new coffin. Athelstan thanked God for Sir John’s authority as coroner. Brother Norbert wrapped Alcuin’s body in a leather shroud and, cutting some of the rope, sealed the corpse in by binding it tightly and lowering it into the new coffin. Brother Norbert then piled more incense on the burning charcoal until it looked as if some sort of fire raged behind the altar as clouds of fragrant perfume rose to conceal the pervasive stench of corruption.
    Athelstan stood, looking down the nave towards the main door where Father Prior huddled, trying to compose himself. Cranston and Norbert left for a while. Athelstan heard them go out of the sacristy door then the coroner returned, Norbert behind him, carrying a tray bearing a large jug of wine and eight cups.
    ‘Get the prior,’ Cranston whispered. ‘Bring him back.’
    Athelstan obeyed. Father Prior seemed a little more composed, his hands were warm and some colour had returned to his face though his eyes still watered from his violent retching.
    ‘Oh, Athelstan,’ he whispered as they walked slowly back up into the sanctuary. ‘May God forgive me! So immersed have I become in the running of a great monastery, I have forgotten the full horror of man’s evil and the terrible consequences of sin. Who could do that? Murder a poor priest like Alcuin here in the eyes of God? In Christ’s very sanctuary? Then desecrate his body and that of poor Bruno? Who? Who could be so evil?’
    Athelstan gently guided him into one of the choir stalls even as Cranston slopped wine into the cups and thrust a goblet towards each of them. He served Norbert and himself last.
    ‘You’re a good man,’ Cranston boomed, clapping the lay brother on the shoulder. ‘I have often thought that Athelstan needed a little help at St Erconwald’s, as do I in the affairs of the city. You’re just the fellow I’d choose.’ He beamed round. ‘Come on, everyone. You, too, Athelstan, sit down. Drink a little wine, as St Paul says, “for our stomach’s sake”.’ He drained his cup in one gulp then refilled it, winking and bubbling, to the brim.
    ‘We should not drink wine here in God’s house.’ William de Conches spoke up, now recovering from the shock he had experienced.
    ‘Jesus won’t mind!’ snapped Cranston . ‘So, Brother Athelstan, your supposition proved correct.’
    ‘Wait!’ Father Prior interrupted. ‘Brother Norbert, go and tell sub-prior John that I want this church sealed. No one is to come in. No masses will be celebrated here nor Divine Office