Murder most holy

go, Sir John.’
    ‘True, true.’ The coroner rose, grabbing his cloak and sword belt. ‘You will bring the book, Brother?’ Cranston stood, head slightly cocked. He could still hear the faint roars of his two poppets. ‘I should bid farewell to my Lady Maude but, on second thoughts,’ he murmured, ‘let sleeping dogs lie. Or, in this case, sweet poppets roar! Leif, you idle bugger, tell Lady Maude that we’ve gone to Blackfriars. We will not be long. Oh, and by the way...’
    ‘Yes, Sir John?’ Leif replied, his mouth still full of pastry and meat.
    ‘...leave my bloody claret alone!’
    ‘Of course, Sir John.’
    Athelstan followed Cranston out of the kitchen even as Leif winked at him and prepared to fill another cup. The coroner collected the miraculous wineskin from a timid servant girl standing near the door. Cranston looked at her sternly. ‘Don’t tell Lady Maude.’
    ‘No, Sir John.’
    ‘You see, Athelstan,’ Cranston whispered, ‘I have two wineskins, both identical. One I leave in the buttery so Lady Maude thinks I am dry and the other I always take with me.’ He shook his head. ‘Lady Maude is an angel but she doesn’t understand the need for refreshment.’
    Athelstan closed his eyes and muttered a prayer. ‘Lord save us,’ he murmured. ‘It’s going to be one of those days!’
    ‘What’s that, monk?’
    ‘Nothing, Sir John, I’m just praying for patience.’ Outside, it being a Sunday, Cheapside was deserted. A few people were hurrying along for early morning mass, summoned by the bells which would ring all morning from one end of the city to the other.
    ‘Should we go to mass first, Sir John? It is Sunday.’
    ‘You’re a priest, Brother. You’ll say mass at Blackfriars, surely?’
    Athelstan agreed and they walked up Westchepe, turning left at Paternoster Row.
    ‘Tell me, Brother,’ Cranston asked sharply, ‘how did you reach the conclusion that it was the bed? Your explanation was logical but what made you think of it?’
    ‘To be perfectly honest, Sir John, the Lady Benedicta. I watched her dabbing powder on her face and noticed how the dust rose in the air. I had thought of the bed previously, but watching her powdering her face gave me the key to the solution.’ He stared around at the houses which rose above them. ‘What concerns me now, Sir John, is our meeting at Blackfriars. Our murderer may become violent.’
    Cranston slapped him firmly on the shoulder. ‘Put your trust in the coroner, dear priest! Put your trust in good Sir John. And,’ Cranston added impishly, ‘Brother Norbert. I want him there, armed with the good quarter-staff we left in the guest house.’ Athelstan caught Sir John by the arm. ‘Stop a while, My Lord Coroner. You must hear the full case against the murderer at Blackfriars and not be carried away by the sheer glee of trapping a man you hate.’
    They stood in the middle of the street: Athelstan speaking earnestly, Sir John nodding in agreement. By the time he had finished, Athelstan felt fully alert.
    ‘You understand, My Lord Coroner?’
    ‘Of course, Friar.’
    ‘Then, in the name of God, let us proceed.’
    At Blackfriars the doorkeeper let them in and sent for Brother Norbert. Athelstan declined the lay brother’s invitation to take them to the prior and insisted on celebrating mass in the guest house itself.
    ‘But that is most irregular,’ the lay brother stuttered. ‘Brother Norbert,’ Athelstan replied quietly, ‘God willing, by the time I leave today, Blackfriars will have other things to gossip about than where I said mass. Now go and get me a chalice, paten, three hosts and some wine, as well as the vestments for the day. Then we’ll see Father Prior.’
    The lay brother hurried off. Cranston and Athelstan crossed the deserted monastery grounds. Norbert had already opened the guest house and they went in. When the lay brother returned, Athelstan quickly vested and, turning the kitchen table into a makeshift altar, celebrated mass during which he prayed that God would guide them in the coming dreadful confrontation with the murderer. He lingered over the consecration, staring down at the hosts and wine, then continued the mass, giving communion to Sir John and a still anxious-faced Norbert. Once the final blessing had been delivered, he instructed the lay brother to tell Father Anselm that he wished to see him and the other members of the Inner Chapter in the prior’s chamber as soon as possible. Whilst