The Devil's Domain

and red, but among the roots you will find the traces of dye. Her body is marked, small cuts on her back. Welts which healed some time ago. I suspect she has been whipped or received the end of a birch, whether in punishment or pleasure,’ Athelstan continued dryly, ’I do not know. Suffice to say, Sir John, Sir Maurice, this is not some young gentlewoman.’
    ’But why?’ Sir John asked. ’What did happen?’
    ’She’s a whore. And brought here to act the part. She’s given a change of clothing, a set of saddlebags and some silver. She arrived at the Golden Cresset and, following instructions, has her clothes taken down to the wash-house while she wipes her boots.’
    ’But why?’ Sir John again asked.
    ’Oh, Sir John, you’ve travelled many a day between Dover and Canterbury .’
    ’Of course. In summer the Pilgrims’ Way is white chalk. It clings to your cloak. I’ve seen the travellers look so dusty you’d think they were covered in snow.’
    ’Precisely, Sir John. She has her clothes washed and her boots cleaned.’
    He glanced at Sir Maurice. The young knight was just staring, open-mouthed; now and again his gaze would shift to the corpse stiffening on the bed.
    ’Now this is a busy tavern,’ Athelstan continued. ’People coming and going, particularly on a Saturday. Poor Anna, who thinks she’s never earned so much money so easily, lies down on the bed. She has done what she has been ordered to and waits for further instructions. The assassin enters. He locks and bolts the door behind him and crosses to the bed. Poor Anna is asleep, she struggles awake but the assassin’s hand or probably a garrotte string is round her throat. She is dead before she can really gather her wits. The assassin’s clever. He doesn’t steal any of the silver but takes the knife she carried and cuts some of the rope. One part goes round the rafters, the other round the poor dead girl’s neck. She’s left hanging there. The rope is thick, harsh: the bruising and discoloration of death hides the real cause of death, strangulation by the garrotte string.’
    ’And the assassin?’ Sir Maurice asked.
    ’Oh, he’d be cowled in some disguise. He’d wait for the tavern yard below to be empty. He then went to the window.’
    ’But the shutters were closed!’
    Athelstan walked over. ’I know from Sir John that this is one of the easiest tricks of the guild of housebreakers. The assassin closed one side of the shutter, climbed out on to the sill, pulling the other behind him, then dropped to the ground.’
    ’But he could have been seen, even seized?’
    ’Sir John, it would only take a few seconds to flee and be lost in some city side street. Anyway, who’d be brave enough to challenge him?’
    ’And the letter?’
    ’Oh, before the murderer left, the love note was placed near the corpse. One final thing. Sir Maurice, you know a great deal about horses. Go down to the stables, carefully check the palfrey this young woman is supposed to have ridden all the way from Dover , then come back and tell us what you have found.’
    The knight hurried off.
    ’It’s the first time I’ve seen any life in him,’ Sir John remarked, closing the door. ’Do you really believe, Athelstan, this poor woman was murdered?’
    ’See for yourself, Sir John. Look at the hair, the nails, the neck.’
    ’Yes, I see it,’ he said, holding the fingers. ’Just near the quick of the thumb, traces of paint.’
    He examined the woman’s hair and then looked carefully at the neck, scarred horribly by the rope. He’d barely finished when Sir Maurice re-entered the room. It was the first time Athelstan had really seen him smile.
    ’Brother, I tell you this.’ The knight rubbed his hands. ’The palfrey’s a sturdy little cob but it has no more travelled from Dover than I have. The hooves are freshly shod.’
    ’That could have been done when they reached London ,’ Sir John said.
    ’I don’t think so, Sir John,’ Athelstan replied. ’I suspect poor Anna Triveter travelled no more than a mile.’
    ’Parr!’ Sir Maurice cried. ’This is the work of Sir Thomas Parr!’
    ’But it’s clumsy.’ Sir John spoke up. ’Sir Thomas is a man who can call on an army of retainers and indulge in the most subtle stratagems.’
    ’It is clumsy,’ Athelstan said. ’Young man.’ He walked towards the knight. ’We have questions for you and a lot depends on your answers. This was an evil and cunning trick. True, Sir John and I