The Devil's Domain

and wiped the sweat from his brow.
    ’We are going to the Golden Cresset. It stands opposite St Anthony’s hospital in Bishopsgate. Last night,’ he tapped his wallet where he had returned the scroll, ’or yesterday evening, a young woman, Anna Triveter, hired a chamber. She locked and bolted the door, closed the shutters and promptly hanged herself.’
    Athelstan closed his eyes.
    ’She must be twenty summers old,’ Sir John continued. ’She had apparently come from Dover . Her palfrey is still in the stable. Apparently a young woman of some repute.’
    ’And what is she to do with you, Sir Maurice?’
    ’Well, our young Hector here, when he was in Dover , formed a relationship with a Mistress Triveter.’
    ’What sort of relationship?’
    ’You saw the scroll.’ Sir John pulled it out.
    Athelstan read the line on the reverse side.
    ’Oh heaven protect us!’ he whispered. ’I didn’t see this: “To my husband Sir Maurice Maltravers”.’
    ’She is not my wife!’ Sir Maurice retorted.
    ’Did you know Mistress Triveter?’
    ’I have never met her in my life.’
    ’Have you seen the corpse?’
    He shook his head.
    ’Have you ever been married before?’
    Again the shake of the head.
    ’Was there a woman in Dover ?’
    Sir Maurice looked away.
    ’Well?’ Sir John asked sharply. ’Answer the question, Sir Maurice! ’
    ’There was a woman,’ he replied. ’A young wench. One of the many who hung around our camp near the port. She was comely enough.’
    ’And her name?’
    ’Anna, that’s all I remember.’
    Athelstan breathed in and closed his eyes.
    ’Yet,’ he said slowly, ’we now have a woman who has committed suicide and left this letter for you.’
    ’Hell’s teeth!’ Sir John cursed. ’Sir Maurice, I trusted you.’
    ’And you still can!’ the knight retorted. ’I am a soldier, Sir John. Like other young men, I drink ale and ogle the wenches but that was before Angelica!’
    ’So why should a young girl commit suicide in a London tavern?’
    ’I don’t know, Sir John! I really don’t!’
    They continued up into Cheapside , crossing Carfax. Here the streets were not so empty now. The cage on top of the great water conduit was full of all the rabble apprehended the previous evening by the city watch. Some lay in the great wooden stockade still suffering from drinking too much. Others shouted greetings to friends, a few cursed as Athelstan and Sir John passed.
    At last they reached the Golden Cresset. The taverner was waiting for them in the taproom surrounded by his scullions and servants, white-faced and anxious.
    ’Where’s the corpse?’ Sir John demanded.
    Athelstan could see that the coroner was very, very angry. He didn’t even bother to seek any refreshment.
    ’You haven’t touched anything, have you?’ he asked as the taverner stepped forward.
    The man, dressed in his church attire, shook his head. He looked awkward and ill at ease in his rather large polished boots.
    ’Have you been to Mass?’ Athelstan asked kindly.
    ’Oh yes, Brother. I don’t know your name?’
    ’Brother Athelstan. I am parish priest at St Erconwald’s. I’m also secretarius to my lord coroner here.’
    ’We’ve been to Mass but I left Tobias the tap boy. He guarded the chamber. I didn’t want those piddling beadles in...’
    ’Take us up!’ Sir John ordered.
    They climbed the stairs to the gallery. The young boy seated with his back to the door pressed down the latch and swung the door open. ’Oh, sweet Lord!’ Sir Maurice gasped.
    ’I know you.’
    Athelstan turned. A young woman stood in the doorway pointing at Sir Maurice.
    ’You were here yesterday evening, in the taproom!’
    He just slumped down on the stool and put his face in his hands.

CHAPTER 8

    ’Come on!’ Sir John urged. ’Help us cut the poor woman down!’
    While Sir Maurice held the corpse, Sir John sawed through the rope. The body was laid on the bed. Athelstan leaned down, noting that the face was swollen and purple, the tongue protruding, the eyes darkening, all beauty and grace spoilt by her violent death throes. Athelstan, heavy-hearted, whispered into the poor girl’s ears the Act of Contrition followed by the words of absolution. He heard a squeaking in the comer and, without thinking, picked up a pot which lay on the table and flung it angrily at the rat scurrying there. As he loosened the noose knot, the body, now stiffening, trembled a little. He brushed back the hair and tried to close