The House of Shadows

pantry, brought out a loaf, some cheese and a pot of butter. He half filled a cup of wine and sat in front of the fire, trying to make sense of the day’s happenings. He recalled the small coffer taken from Sir Stephen’s bedchamber. He unlocked this and emptied the contents on to the table, and was about to examine them when there was a knocking at the door.
    ‘By St Michael and all his angels,’ Athelstan whispered, ‘is there no peace?’
    He drew back the bolts, half expecting to see the Judas Man; instead, a young woman, hood pulled over her head, stood just beyond the light, and beyond her another figure hidden by the darkness.
    ‘What is it?’ Athelstan kept the door only slightly open.
    ‘Brother, don’t you recognise me?’ The cloak was pulled back.
    ‘Why, it’s Donata!’ Athelstan greeted the young woman he had met at Mother Veritable’s.
    ‘Brother,’ she pleaded, ‘may I come in? I am freezing cold and frightened. I mean you no harm. Look.’ She turned to the person behind her, then came towards Athelstan carrying a small coffer. ‘I’ve brought you a present. I didn’t want to leave Beatrice’s and Clarice’s prized possessions with that old harridan.’
    Athelstan took it. ‘And who is that with you?’
    ‘My name is Jocelyn.’
    The young man stepped out of the darkness. He was tall and thin, but his face was open and kindly under unruly black hair. Athelstan caught the smell of sweaty leather.
    ‘I’m a journeyman from Colchester ,’ Jocelyn explained. ‘I deal in leather goods.’ He pointed back into the darkness. ‘I have tethered my sumpter pony just outside the lych gate — one of your parishioners said he would guard it.’
    Athelstan liked the look of the young man, whilst Donata was clearly agitated.
    ‘You had best come in.’
    They stepped into the light. Athelstan barred the door behind them and ushered them to the table, where he served them some oatmeal, already prepared for the morning, and two small pots of beer drawn from the barrel in the scullery. They were both hungry. Athelstan sat at the top of the table between them. Bonaventure scratched at the door and was also let in to bask in front of the fire.
    ‘A busy night,’ Athelstan murmured, ‘but why are you here?’
    ‘I’m fleeing Mother Veritable’s,’ Donata splurted out. ‘Jocelyn loves me and I love him. We are going to Colchester . We shall be married in St Luke’s Church.’
    ‘No, you are not going to Colchester,’ Athelstan smiled, ‘you are fleeing to Colchester ; you’re indentured to Mother Veritable. Though,’ he added hastily, ‘I agree with what you are doing. But why?’
    Jocelyn stretched across the table and grasped his beloved’s hand.
    ‘I can see you are in love,’ Athelstan remarked, ‘and what you are doing is right.’ He stared at the journeyman. ‘I have your word that you will act honourably?’
    ‘On my soul, Brother. We shall be married before Advent. We will exchange vows at the church door.’
    ‘I want to go,’ Donata explained. ‘Mother Veritable is truly wicked. She takes our souls and sells our bodies. Oh, we live in comfort, but we are at the beck and call of any man with his belly full of ale and his heart full of lust.’
    The young woman rubbed her eyes.
    ‘I’m tired of the violence,’ she whispered, ‘of the searching fingers and foul mouths.’
    ‘What made you decide now?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Beatrice and Clarice’s deaths — murders.’ She looked directly at him. ‘I love Jocelyn, Brother, I want children,’ she clutched her stomach, ‘here, in my womb. I don’t want to drink Mother Veritable’s potions and powders. I don’t want to grow old raddled with disease, or die in some hay barn, my throat slashed from ear to ear, or stabbed in some stinking alleyway. I don’t want the silk and the costly perfumes, or men looking at me as if I am a horse at Smithfield .’
    ‘You are in love but you are also frightened?’ Athelstan asked.
    The young woman nodded.
    ‘Mother Veritable found out about Beatrice and Clarice. How they had some secret plan to amass their own wealth and flee her house.’
    ‘Just like their mother?’
    ‘Yes, just like their mother,’ Donata agreed. ‘Mother Veritable was all in a rage — shouting dire threats.’
    ‘What was this plan?’ Athelstan asked.
    Donata shook her head. ‘I don’t truly know, but I think that cunning man the Misericord was involved.’
    ‘That’s not what