The House of Shadows

,’ Ranulf retorted. ‘Four of them sucked the blood out of—’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ Athelstan agreed, ‘but your ferrets did well.’
    ‘Can they be baptised?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘Father has already told you,’ Imelda screeched. ‘You can’t baptise animals.’
    ‘Ursula’s pig drank the holy water,’ Watkin pointed out.
    ‘There’ll be no baptisms of animals,’ Athelstan declared, ‘but I promise you, on the Feast of St Francis...’ Athelstan couldn’t stop himself, even though he recalled the confusion of last time, when one of Ranulf’s ferrets had attacked Ursula’s sow and sent it squealing around the church. He just hoped that Ranulf had kept the basket secure,- the ferrets had smelt the sow and were becoming excited.
    ‘Yes, Father?’ Pernel asked.
    ‘On the Feast of St Francis I will bless all animals. Now, let’s move to other business.’
    Mugwort picked up his quill, dipping it ceremoniously into the inkhorn as Athelstan led his parish council through the various items of business. There was the cleaning of the cemetery, the digging of a ditch, Huddle wanted to paint a new scene from the life of St John the Baptist which provoked a fierce discussion about whether the saint was crucified or beheaded. Athelstan suspected this was a warning of what was to come. Cecily the courtesan, in a light blue robe, sat next to Benedicta, smiling flirtatiously at Pike while making obscene gestures with her fingers at the ditcher’s wife. Athelstan hurried on. There was the business of church ales, the levying of tithes, the possibility of a small market in the cemetery and the greening of the church for Advent.
    ‘Now,’ Athelstan closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer, ‘we come to our pageant for Christmas, the birth of Christ.’
    He paused for breath.
    ‘Crispin,’ he pointed to the carpenter, ‘we have decided you will be Joseph, Watkin, you can be Herod...’The roles were assigned; they even included Bonaventure the cat. Philomel would stand in for the donkey, whilst Athelstan ruefully conceded that Ursula’s sow could be the oxen.
    ‘Well,’ said Watkin, ‘who will be the Virgin Mary? I think it should be Benedicta.’
    ‘So do I,’ Imelda agreed, glaring at Cecily, who pushed her chest out and straightened herself up on the stool she was sitting on.
    ‘I disagree,’ Pike the ditcher responded, always ready to oppose Watkin.
    ‘We think it should be Cecily,’ Ranulf declared.
    A bitter war of words broke out. Imelda, her face mottled with fury, fists beating the air, would have attacked Cecily if Athelstan hadn’t intervened. The Dominican let the dispute continue, hoping their pent-up fury would soon exhaust itself. Instead it grew worse, so he had to gesture at Mauger to ring his hand bell. No sooner was silence imposed, with members of the parish council glowering at each other, when there was loud shouting outside, cries and yells of ‘Harrow! Harrow!’ followed by the sound of running feet. The door to the church burst open, and a man, cloak over one arm, a stick in the other, scampered around the stools and fled up the nave under the rood screen and into the sanctuary. He was followed by a man in black leather, spurs jangling on his boots, a drawn sword in one hand, a crossbow in the other. Athelstan sprang to his feet as he realised what had happened.
    ‘Go no further,’ he ordered.
    The man carrying the crossbow paused, hands hanging as he fought for breath.
    ‘He’s the Judas Man,’ Pike shouted. ‘He was at the Great Ratting last night.’
    ‘He is also an officer of the law.’
    Bladdersniff the bailiff came into the church, clearly out of breath, leaning on his staff of office, water dripping from eyes, nose and mouth.
    ‘He carries the King’s commission, he’s in pursuit of a felon.’
    ‘I demand,’ the Judas Man rasped, ‘that the felon who calls himself the Misericord be handed over to me.’
    This proclamation was greeted by cries of derision from the parish council.
    ‘You know the law,’ Athelstan stepped in front of the Judas Man, ‘and so do you, Bladdersniff. Any man who reaches a church and grasps the altar may claim sanctuary.’
    ‘Which means,’ the Judas Man retorted, pointing up the church, ‘that the malefactor cannot leave this church for forty days, and when he does I will arrest him: that, too, is the law!’
    Athelstan was repelled by the malice in the Judas Man’s eyes, the violence of his speech.
    ‘It’s