The Devil's Domain

mansions. It stood in its own grounds, two small apple trees on either side of the path leading up to the smartly painted door. This was decorated with shining iron studs, its large brass knocker formed in the shape of a knight tilting in a tourney. On either side stood huge pots of herbs on a charcoal base, the fragrant smoke curling up in billows like incense in a church. Men-at-arms lounged along each side of the house: city bullies, hired by this great merchant, they were dressed in his livery, white surcoats displaying a mailed fist holding a sword. They kept well away from Sir John’s threatening look.
    ’I don’t like these buggers!’ the coroner muttered. ’Small, private armies. Look at them, Brother, they can’t keep their hands away from their swords and daggers. Too much red meat and too little work, always eager for a fight.’
    Athelstan quickly inspected the men. They were city boys in their tight fitting hose and high-heeled boots. They were well armed; some even carried crossbows with small pots of bolts attached to their leather war belts.
    Sir John lifted the knocker and brought it down with a crash.
    ’I enjoyed that,’ he muttered.
    He did it again. The door swung open.
    ’What’s your business?’
    ’What’s your name?’ Sir John barked.
    ’Ralph Hersham, man-at-arms to Sir Thomas Parr.’
    ’I’m Cranston the King’s coroner. Now, sod off, and let me in!’

CHAPTER 6

    They were ushered into the most luxurious parlour whose walls were decorated with oak panelling. The paving-stones were scrubbed white and covered with thick, woollen rugs. A chandelier of candles hung from the pure white ceiling. Pots of flowers stood on the elegant furniture arranged round the room. Chairs and stools were placed in a semi-circle round the mantelled hearth. No fire was burning, but the grate was clean and polished. On shelves above the mantelpiece gold, silver and pewter pots gleamed. Carefully carved heraldic devices covered the windows, the shutters held back by scarlet ribbons. Hersham gestured at them to sit in the quilted window seat which overlooked the lawn and small flower beds along the side of the house.
    ’Can I ask your business?’
    Hersham’s thin, sallow face was still mottled with fury. He couldn’t keep his fingers away from his dagger hilt. A true bully boy, Athelstan thought: a man who liked to swagger the alleyways.
    ’You are Sir Thomas’ henchman?’ Sir John asked, rubbing his hands then turning away to look at a small rose bush in the middle of the garden. I’d like one of those, he thought. I wonder how Parr grows them? He turned back to Hersham. ’Well?’
    ’1 am Sir Thomas’ bodyguard and steward,’ Hersham replied.
    ’You are not a Londoner, are you?’
    ’From the south coast, Sir John.’
    ’Well, we can’t wait here all day. Run along and get your master.’
    If looks could kill, the coroner would have dropped dead on the spot. Hersham left the chamber, slamming the door behind him.
    ’I cannot tolerate such men!’ Sir John whispered through clenched teeth. ’In my treatise on the governance of London ...’ Athelstan leaned back against the head-rest. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cool breeze from the garden.
    ’Sir John, I beg you, keep your voice down and your opinions to yourself until we get out! Remember, Parr has not committed a crime! We are here to ask a favour.’
    The door swung open and Sir Thomas came into the room, Hersham behind him. The merchant prince was dressed in a coloured cote-hardie with fur tippets hanging down from the elbows. His hose were shiny as if pure silk. He wore no shoes but the soles of the hose were covered in soft brown leather. An embroidered belt round his waist carried a gilt-edged purse and a small poignard.
    Athelstan’s heart sank when he studied Sir Thomas’ face, which possessed hard, harsh features, narrow eyes, a bulbous nose and lips. The man looked as if he constantly sat in judgement on everything and everyone. He glanced at Athelstan, who raised his hand in salutation. Sir John made no movement but just stared back. Athelstan recalled that these two men knew each other. Parr was the first to break the silence. He came forward, hand extended.
    ’Well, well, Jack. I’ve seen you from afar. You’ve grown over the years.’
    ’In heart as well as body,’ Sir John replied, grasping Parr’s hand. ’It’s been a long time, Thomas.’
    Parr clasped Athelstan’s hand then snapped his