The Devil's Domain

midst? Had all these men been condemned to die? Was the poisoner Gaunt? Had he instructed this traitor, if he was at Hawkmere Manor, to poison the rest? But wouldn’t that expose his agent? And what would happen to him? A simulated death, before being secretly pensioned off to some lonely manor on the Welsh marches?
    Item — An unknown priest had been seen at Whitefriars. A possible customer of Vulpina? But who would that be?

    Athelstan glanced up. I wonder what Sir John’s doing, he thought. He smiled to himself as he recalled the two poppets. Never had he seen two sturdy sons so resemble their father: balding heads, fat, red faces, little paunches and sturdy legs. The poppets spent most of their day telling each other off or chasing Gog and Magog around the house. Athelstan returned to the parchment.
    ’There’s something wrong here, Bonaventure,’ he said. Something intangible he couldn’t grasp. He recalled Gaunt slouched in his chair. ’That’s it!’ Athelstan stroked Bonaventure. ’My Lord Regent is like a cat who has taken the best of the cream and intends to go back for more.’
    What was he so pleased about? Gaunt had a lot to gain, Athelstan reflected. The Commons would be pleased that notorious French privateers were now in prison. He had the ransoms to look forward to while Maltravers was one of his henchmen so the Regent could bask in his reflected glory. And Vulpina? Despite the wine he had drunk, old Jack Cranston had really shaken that woman’s wickedness. She was nervous, eager to give tidbits of information so she could hide the rest. Athelstan put his face in his hands. There were links: Maltravers had taken the two French ships; Gaunt was now furthering Sir Maurice’s cause with the divine Lady Angelica. Sir Thomas Parr partly owned The Great Edward, the ship Sir Maurice had used in his fight against the French privateers. Sir Maurice had bought poisons. He also supplied Hawkmere Manor with food. Why should a knight banneret be engaged in such petty details? True, in a great lord’s household, even a retainer like Maltravers would have a wide range of tasks: some petty, others matters of life and death. But where was all this leading to?
    Athelstan got to his feet and stretched. Bonaventure copied him and leapt down from the table. The cat padded over to the door. Athelstan opened it.
    ’Good hunting!’ he said.
    He was about to close the door again when a voice called, ’Brother Athelstan!’
    ’Who is it? Ah, Godbless, you gave me a start!’
    The beggar man, Thaddeus trotting behind him, walked into the dim pool of light.
    ’What’s the matter, Godbless? Can’t you sleep? Are you hungry?’ The beggar man looked up, his eyes heavy with sleep.
    ’There be ghosts in God’s acre.’
    ’Ghosts! Godbless, go back to bed! The only ghosts in that graveyard are Cecily the courtesan or Watkin and Pike. You have not met these, have you?’
    Godbless shook his head.
    ’There are no ghosts. Go back to bed. Lock your door.’
    ’Brother, I be really a-feared and so be Thaddeus.’ Godbless looked longingly past Athelstan.
    ’All right!’ The Dominican stepped back.
    Godbless sped like an arrow through the door, Thaddeus scampering after him. The beggar man sat down in front of the hearth.
    ’I always likes a fire,’ he sighed. ’My wife used to light one.’
    Athelstan, curious, put the latch on the door and drew the bolts. Thaddeus, he noticed with some amusement, was crouched next to Godbless.
    ’Were you married, Godbless?’
    ’Aye, Brother, came from Dorset . A yeoman farmer like the other mad buggers who took the King’s penny and went to war. When I came back my wife and child were dead, sick of the plague. The manor lord had knocked down the fences, turning plough land to pasture, grazing it with sheep. I hate sheep. Fond of goats but can’t stand sheep.’
    ’In the Gospel it’s the other way round,’ Athelstan joked.
    ’Don’t be angry, Brother, but I don’t believe in the Gospels. I’m not a Christian.’
    ’In which case,’ Athelstan commented, ’you are in good company. Very few people are, Godbless.’
    The beggar man squinted up at him. ’One day, Brother, I’ll repay you for your kindness.’
    Athelstan patted him on the shoulder. ’I’ll get you some blankets.’
    He made Godbless comfortable, told him there was food in the buttery and climbed the steps to his bed loft. There he washed his hands and face in the water bowl, took off his gown