The House of Shadows

Misericord blew his cheeks out. ‘That’s all I know, Brother. I watched the Great Ratting, collected my purse and fled. I tried to cross London Bridge but the Judas Man had his spies there. The hue and cry was raised...’ His voice trailed off.
    Athelstan rose and cleared away the tranchers and spoons. Bonaventure slid through the half-open corpse door to begin his night’s hunting. Athelstan was about to retire when a clamour broke out at the main door. He hurried down and removed the bar. Two women stood there. Behind them, some distance away, the Judas Man and the bailiffs watched carefully.
    ‘Good evening, Brother.’ The voice was cultured and sweet-sounding. ‘May we come in?’
    Athelstan stepped back. He thought the two women were cowled and hooded, but as they came through the doorway, he realised they were both dressed in the heavy brown robes and starched white wimples of nuns. The speaker was young and comely, smoothfaced, with wide-spaced gentle grey eyes. She wore a silver Celtic cross around her neck, a plain white girdle around her waist. The other was much older, wearing a ring on her vein-streaked left hand. Athelstan realised the younger was a novice, whilst the older was a fully professed member of the Minoresses from the Franciscan convent to the north of the Tower near Poor Jewry. The younger one gestured to her companion to stay near the door, whilst she stretched out her hands to exchange the kiss of peace with Athelstan.
    ‘My lady?’ Athelstan gently kissed her on each cheek.
    ‘This is Sister Catherine.’ The grey eyes smiled. ‘Whilst I am Edith Travisa.’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘I am Edith Travisa.’
    Athelstan suddenly recalled the Misericord’s true name.
    ‘You are... ?’
    ‘Edith!’
    The Misericord came running down the church. Athelstan hastily closed the door and pushed the bolt back. He turned around. Edith and the Misericord were clasped in a tight embrace. The novice held the young man like a mother would a son, her white fingers gently patting him on the back.
    ‘Edith, you shouldn’t have come.’ The Misericord stepped back. ‘Brother Athelstan, this is my sister.’
    ‘I think we had best leave the doorway,’ Athelstan urged. ‘Sister Catherine, are you comfortable?’
    The old nun gave a gap-toothed smile.
    ‘I’ll stay here,’ she said in a sing-song tone. ‘Mother Superior gave us an hour. We have left our porter outside. He’ll see us safely back.’
    ‘Do you want something to eat or drink?’
    ‘There’s no time, there’s no time.’ Edith’s voice was stern and the old nun nodded in agreement.
    Athelstan escorted the brother and sister back up into the sanctuary. He brought a chair for the novice whilst he and the Misericord sat on the rood-screen step.
    ‘I heard you were taken,’ she began.
    ‘I’m not taken,’ the Misericord declared, ‘and you shouldn’t have come here. I’ll escape, something will happen.’
    ‘I’ve brought you some—’
    ‘There’s no need,’ the Misericord interrupted. ‘Brother Athelstan, would you leave us alone?’
    ‘Only if you tell me what this is all about?’
    ‘Edith and I,’ the Misericord’s haste was apparent, ‘are full brother and sister. Our parents lived near Cripplegate. They were clothiers. They died when the plague returned. Other relatives, too, perished. I have to look after Edith. Now, she was betrothed to Henry Sturny—’
    ‘Ah, yes!’ Athelstan interrupted. ‘They are cloth merchants in Cheapside .’
    ‘Henry loves Edith, Edith loves Henry, but there was the question of the dowry.’ The Misericord took a deep breath. ‘I wasted my parents’ wealth. Now, Brother, you know the reason for my mischief. I placed Edith in the care of the good Minoresses, and have spent every waking moment of the last three years trying to raise her dowry. Five hundred pounds sterling in all.’
    Athelstan could tell by the way this cunning man was staring at his sister how much he loved her. He made to go away, but turned back.
    ‘Do you know any of these knights, with their rather grand title of the Golden Falcon? They’d be known to you by their name and status in the shire of Kent .’
    The Misericord blinked and cleared his throat. ‘I have,’ he chose his words carefully, ‘done business with them.’
    ‘You mean you’ve tricked them?’
    ‘What is this?’ Edith interrupted.
    ‘Your brother’s usual depredations,’ Athelstan explained. ‘You do realise he