The Devil's Domain

making up a lewd song about the coroner and his goat. Only when he turned round, his face like thunder, did the whores stop. One of them turned and lifted her ragged, dusty dress and they all fled laughing and joking among themselves. A few beggar boys then took up the game. Sir John sighed; by evening Lady Maude would know what he had done and he would have to explain.
    ’Oh Sir John, Sir John!’
    He groaned and stopped. Leif the red-haired, one-legged beggar came hopping towards him as nimble as a cricket. Sir John had never met a more vexatious fellow but one look at poor Leif’s scared face and the coroner’s heart softened. Leif could wheedle a penny out of a miser.
    ’Sir John, have you heard me?’
    The coroner used the opportunity to flail out at the urchins who scampered away.
    ’Why, Sir John, what a beautiful goat. Are you taking it home?’
    Sir John gazed bleakly back.
    ’You’ve heard me, Sir John,’ Leif gabbled, deciding it best to ignore Sir John’s strange companion.
    ’In sweet heaven’s name, Leif, what are you chattering about?’
    ’I’ve decided to become a singer, Sir John. A chanteur.’
    And, without being invited, Leif threw his head back, one hand on his chest. ’My love,’ he warbled, ’is like a flower, fresh and sweet.’
    ’Thank you, Leif,’ Sir John bawled.
    ’I sang last night, Sir John, outside your chamber.’
    ’I thought it was cats fighting.’
    Leif stared mournfully back. Sir John heaved a sigh and delved into his purse. He thrust a coin into the beggar man’s hand.
    ’Look, Leif, there’s a penny.’
    ’Oh, thank you, Sir John, is that for my singing?’
    ’No, Leif, it isn’t. You are not to sing beneath my chamber. You will frighten the poppets. Secondly, you are not to follow me into the Holy Lamb of God. And, thirdly, you are not to tell Lady Maude I’ve been there.’
    ’Very good, Sir John.’ Leif hopped away, warbling his head off.
    ’Come on, Judas!’ Sir John urged. ’There’s no problem in life which can’t be resolved by a meat pie and a tankard of ale.’
    And, like an arrow finding its mark, Sir John pushed his way across Cheapside into the tangy, warm welcome of the tavern.
    The taverner’s wife fussed over him. She brought a frothing tankard of ale and a meat pie. Sir John made the mistake of sitting back in his favourite seat near the garden window; when he glanced down, Judas was munching the greens round the pie and licking the pastry.
    ’Oh!’ he groaned and called for a second dish. ’I just hope Brother Athelstan takes you.’
    The taverner’s wife, laughing and joking, brought across a second tray. Sir John held it on his lap and ate quickly, glaring suspiciously at Judas.
    ’I wonder what Athelstan will think about you?’ he muttered.
    But, there again, the coroner reflected, there were many questions he would like to ask his secretarius. He had been horrified by the stories, which had not been proved or denied, that Athelstan had been ordered out of London to Oxford . He had only been stopped at the last minute by the direct intervention of Prior Anselm. Cranston had made his own enquiries but could discover nothing. When he had summoned up the courage to question the little Dominican, Athelstan had just shaken his head and smiled.
    ’It’s a possibility,’ he confirmed. ’But I think, Sir John, I’ll be in St Erconwald’s for some time. Prior Anselm says there’s no further need for me to be your secretarius. But I have begged him that I can continue and he has agreed.’
    Sir John had to be comforted by that. Athelstan had first been sent to St Erconwald’s and appointed his secretarius as a penance. Years earlier, Athelstan had fled his novitiate and, his mind full of glory, had joined his feckless younger brother in the armies in France . Stephen had been killed and Athelstan had returned, a changed and chastened man. Sir John, who had little time for prattling priests or mouldy monks, as he termed them, regarded Athelstan as a very special friend. If the Dominican ever left, some of the joy and warmth of his own life would be diminished.
    The coroner licked his fingers, drained his tankard then put the dish on the floor so Judas could finish what was left of the vegetables. He slammed a coin on the table and walked back into Cheapside . The urchins were waiting. He groaned, gritted his teeth and walked along until he reached the comer of Poultry near the Tun on the comer of Lombard Street . This