The Anger of God

absent. Oh, by the way, Leif the beggar is eating your dinner.’
    Cranston stared at the friar. You are lying, he thought. I wager you came over here looking for me. I know the Lady Maude left you secret instructions. Nevertheless, he was warmed by Athelstan’s concern.
    ‘I suppose you want me to buy a drink?’
    The taverner’s wife came bustling up.
    ‘I have already bought them,’ Athelstan replied. ‘Claret for My Lord Coroner and a blackjack of the coolest ale for me.’ Athelstan sipped at the froth and smiled. ‘You are right, Sir John. There’ll have to be taverns in heaven.’
    ‘How are those rogues in your parish?’ Cranston asked.
    ‘Sinners like all of us, Sir John,’ he replied. ‘Bonaventure’s catching rats by the dozen. Benedicta is organizing a harvest festival. I offered to bake some bread before I remembered what a hopeless cook I am. Watkin the dung-collector is still at odds with Pike the ditcher.’ Athelstan grinned. ‘Watkin’s wife shoved Pike over in the porch. She claims he was drunk and tripped. What they don’t know is that one of Watkin’s daughters wants to marry Pike’s eldest son.’
    ‘Do their families know?’
    ‘Not yet. But when they do you will be able to hear the screams in Cheapside . Cecily the courtesan has a new beau and consequently a new dress every day. Huddle is now painting the new sanctuary.’ Athelstan put down his tankard, his face becoming serious. ‘There are two other matters,’ he added softly, but then fell infuriatingly silent.
    Oh, no, Cranston thought, you’re not leaving that rat hole of a parish you love so much? You haven’t been relieved of your duties as my clerk?
    Cranston stared at the dreamy-eyed friar. Athelstan had been appointed parish priest of St Erconwald’s in Southwark and Cranston ’s secretarius because of past follies. As a novice Athelstan had left Blackfriars and run off with his hero-worshipping brother to the wars in France . The boy had been killed and Athelstan had returned home to witness the grief of his parents and bear the furious reprimands of his monastic superiors. ‘Well, what is it?’ Cranston asked testily.
    ‘Do you believe in Satan, Sir John?’
    ‘Yes, I do, and the bugger’s sitting over there.’ Cranston nodded across at the relic-seller deep in conversation with another rogue in a corner of the tavern. Athelstan smiled and shook his head.
    ‘No, Sir John, I mean the real Satan.’ His words came in a rush. ‘Do you believe he can possess someone?’
    Sir John sat up straight. ‘Yes, Father, I do. I believe there’s a spirit world where beings rage against Christ and his saints. However, I also believe the average demon sits upon his rock in Hell and weeps at the wickedness he sees man get up to. Why do you ask?’ Athelstan toyed with his tankard. ‘Satan may have come to Southwark. A woman approached me after Mass this morning and claimed her step-daughter is possessed. Every night she raises the devil to accuse her father of murdering his first wife, her mother. ‘ Athelstan blinked and looked at his tankard. ‘The woman has asked me to perform an exorcism.’
    Sir John looked at him strangely. ‘But, Athelstan, you deal with such matters every day.’
    ‘Oh, I know,’ the friar replied, and grinned. ‘Pernell the Fleming says there are demons no bigger than her thumb who lurk in the shadowy corners of her house to giggle and talk about her. Two years ago, Watkin the dung-collector and his wife suddenly thought the world was coming to an end: they sat on the roof of their house, the whole family with them, each holding a cross against the demon. The only thing to occur was that the roof fell in. Watkin hurt his ankle and injured his pride.’ Athelstan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘No Sir John, this is different. Just looking at this woman, I sensed something evil is happening in that family.’
    ‘And will you do the exorcism?’
    ‘Canon law says that every diocese has an officially appointed exorcist but he can only act on behalf of the bishop and deals with very serious and public matters. It can take months to secure his services.’ Athelstan sipped from his tankard. ‘I did ask Father Prior’s advice: he reminded me it was my duty to offer what comfort I can. ‘ The friar pulled a face. ‘Sir John, I suppose I’m frightened. As that woman talked, I had a bone-chilling feeling of evil.’
    Cranston patted him with a bear-like paw. ‘I’m