Murder most holy

have his way. Father Prior shrugged, rapped the top of the table for silence and glared down the table at Athelstan.
    ‘Brother,’ he began, ‘in half an hour we assemble to celebrate Solemn High Mass. The Master Inquisitor and Brother Eugenius have ruled that Brother Henry of Winchester’s writings contain no heresy, whilst Brothers Niall and Peter claim they cannot refute, according to either Scripture or Tradition, the truth of what he writes.’ The Prior rubbed his tired, lined face. ‘Accordingly, unless you can explain clearly and fully the resolution to the terrible deaths which have occurred here, I shall declare the Inner Chapter finished, mass will be sung, and we shall all go our separate ways. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes, Father Prior.’ Athelstan picked up the sack, brought out the book and pushed it down the table towards the prior. ‘Read that! Open it where the purple strip of silk ribbon marks the place.’
    ‘Why should I read it?’
    The group now fell silent, all eyes staring at Athelstan. ‘You should read it, Father Prior,’ Cranston stated, getting to his feet, ‘because it proves that our young theologian here, Henry of Winchester, is a liar, a thief and an assassin.’
    The accused Dominican leaned against the table. He glared at Cranston then at the book, one hand going out; he would have snatched it if Brother Norbert hadn't leaned over and smacked him sharply on the wrist.
    Cranston grinned at the young lay brother. ‘Well done, Norbert, my son. If you ever leave Blackfriars, I can secure you a good post as a member of my guard.’
    Athelstan sat still and let the coroner proceed for he felt sick at heart that here, in the great monastery of Blackfriars, he had to accuse a fellow friar of the murder of four of his brethren. Henry of Winchester sat back in his seat, his face white now, dark eyes staring like some trapped animal’s.
    ‘You are a liar!’ Cranston accused. ‘Because you made claims which are false. You are a thief because you stole the work of Hildegarde of Bremen, a Prussian abbess who lived one hundred and twenty years ago and wrote a brilliant treatise on why God became incarnate. An original, quite lucid treatise which was rejected at the time.’ Cranston grinned round at the other Dominicans. ‘Because it was not fashionable for women to speculate on the divine science of theology, her writings were buried, even destroyed. But you, Brother Henry, came across a copy. You took it, word for word, and proclaimed it as your own work. You thought you would escape detection. Very few copies of Hildegarde’s work remain. You came to Blackfriars to debate the issue with Brothers Niall and Peter whilst our friends in the Inquisition looked on.’
    Cranston stood up. ‘You made one mistake. Brother Callixtus was not a theologian but, as my good friend Athelstan informed me, he did have a prodigious memory. You see, the library here at Blackfriars had a copy of Hildegarde’s work. Your treatise sparked a memory in Callixtus and he mentioned it to his good friend Alcuin.’ Cranston paused as Henry of Winchester leaned forward, jabbing a finger towards the coroner.
    ‘No theological treatise is original.’ He glanced quickly round at the others for confirmation. ‘I never said it was. How did I know that Callixtus knew anyone called Hildegarde?’
    ‘I can’t prove that,’ Cranston replied, ‘but Callixtus, like every human being, felt a twinge of jealousy. He must have mentioned the name Hildegarde to his good friend Alcuin, and I suggest one of them baited you with it.’ Cranston shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t take much. Just drop the name in your presence. A warning that they knew the full truth. Hence Callixtus’s enigmatic statement that the Inner Chapter was wasting its time. Of course it was, debating a work written many years ago.’ He paused. ‘I suspect Alcuin was the first to bait you and so was summoned to the crypt below. But in the dark, you mistook Brother Bruno and sent him crashing to his death.’ Cranston shrugged. ‘Alcuin had to go so you waited for him in the church, no difficult feat. Callixtus went next, and then poor Roger. In the meantime, probably by watching Callixtus, you had found this original work and destroyed it. You made one mistake. The Dominicans at Oxford have copies of all the manuscripts here and so Athelstan sent for a replacement.’
    ‘Is this true?’ Father Prior interrupted, addressing the Inner Chapter to