The House of Shadows

won’t offer you refreshment.’ Mother Veritable kicked the foot rest away. ‘You’ll take nothing in this house, will you, Cranston ?’
    ‘I’ll take the truth.’
    Mother Veritable sighed and raised her eyes heavenwards.
    ‘Here we go, my Lord Coroner, back into the world of men, eh? Two of my girls were killed last night, Beatrice and Clarice.’
    ‘Guinevere’s golden daughters.’
    ‘I remember Guinevere.’ Mother Veritable’s eyes looked sad, her face lost some of its hardness. ‘As I said, Sir Jack, the world of men, sharp and cruel. I loved Guinevere. Oh! She had a heart as black as her face was fair, but perhaps I loved her because of her treachery. You knew us both then, Jack.’
    Cranston coloured with embarrassment and shuffled his feet. Mother Veritable leaned forwards and placed her jewelled white fingers over Cranston’s great paw.
    ‘You remember the glory days, Jack?’ Her voice was soft and sweet. ‘Guinevere loved, I loved, you loved, the City was full of young knights with their fair damsels. It wasn’t so hard then. My heart hadn’t turned to stone. I hadn’t accepted the world for what it is, cruel and harsh. Do you remember the man I loved, Jack?’
    ‘Killed,’ Cranston replied. ‘Killed outside Bordeaux , wasn’t he?’ He withdrew his hand as if suddenly remembering why he was here.
    ‘Beatrice and Clarice?’ The woman sat back and shrugged. ‘Master Rolles, as usual, had sent for them, left a message in the tapestry of the Castle of Love ,-somebody wanted to hire them both. So they bathed and perfumed themselves, donned their best robes and went off to the Great Ratting. Oh, by the way, I’ve destroyed Rolles’ message.’
    ‘And you agreed?’ Athelstan asked. ‘To send two of your women out into the night?’
    ‘I had already received a silver coin, a token of what was to come.’ She held Athelstan’s gaze. ‘They didn’t come back. I thought they had been hired for the night. This is the only place they know. They would have returned and brought their silver with them.’
    ‘Every penny?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Little priest—’
    ‘Friar,’ Athelstan corrected. ‘I’m a Dominican friar.’
    ‘Whatever you are,’ she snapped, ‘I tell you this: woe betide the girl who returns here and holds back what she owes.’
    Her gaze shifted, staring at a point behind Athelstan’s head. The Dominican turned: two great oafs dressed in leather jackets, hose pushed into high-heeled boots, sword belts strapped round their waists, stood silently at the door grasping cudgels.
    ‘Tell your lovely boys to go away,’ Cranston demanded. Mother Veritable gestured with her head. Cranston heard the door close behind him.
    ‘Master Rolles sent a message this morning. How the two girls had been found in the hay barn. Killed by a cross-bolt and dagger, wasn’t it? I went down to view the corpses,’ Mother Veritable continued matter-of-factly, as if describing a visit to a market stall. ‘Still beautiful, but dead.’ She half smiled. ‘Master Rolles had taken their jewellery.’
    ‘I had forgotten that.’ Cranston snapped his fingers. ‘I meant to take the jewellery for Brother Athelstan to sell and distribute the money amongst the poor.’
    ‘I don’t want it.’ Athelstan spoke up. Despite this woman’s apparent harshness, he wondered if she was trying to make sense of the horror she had witnessed. ‘Sir John,’ he turned to the coroner, ‘have the jewellery returned here.’
    Mother Veritable smiled with her eyes. ‘The singer not the song,’ she murmured and winked at Athelstan. ‘Not many priests would have said that. Did you pray for them, Brother?’
    Athelstan nodded.
    ‘Do you know what happened?’ Cranston insisted.
    ‘From what Rolles and the others described,’ Mother Veritable sighed, ‘the two girls enjoyed the evening, and quietly left to meet their customer in the hay barn.’
    ‘And you do not know who this was?’
    ‘Sir John,’ she glanced coyly at the coroner, ‘if I did, my beautiful boys would have visited him by now. Master Rolles didn’t know. Nobody saw anything.’
    ‘Did Master Rolles ever...’ Athelstan searched for the words.
    ‘Sample such wine?’ Mother Veritable teased. ‘At his tavern? Not to my knowledge.’ She tapped the tip of her nose. ‘But he’s always welcome here.’
    ‘You know who resides at the Night in Jerusalem ?’ Cranston asked. ‘The Judas Man.’
    Mother Veritable shook her head