Paul Doherty - The Devil's domain

‘In God’s name!’ the man gasped. His eyes rolled up as sword and dagger slipped from his hand.

Sir Maurice went in again, thrusting his dagger deep into the man’s throat. The assassin fell to his knees, blood pouring from the wounds in his chest and throat, then he gave a groan and fell on his face.

Athelstan found he couldn’t stop shaking. He picked up Bonaventure, took one of the stools and sat in front of the fire. He stroked the cat. Sir Maurice was speaking but he couldn’t understand a word the knight was saying. Godbless came over and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Are you well, Brother? It’s always like this after a blood spilling.’

‘This is my house,’ Athelstan replied, finding he couldn’t stop the tears. ‘This is my house. I live here with Bonaventure.’

Sir Maurice crouched down beside him. He filled a goblet with wine and Athelstan sipped from it.

‘Of course it’s your house,’ the knight said quietly.

‘Did you kill those men?’ Athelstan asked.

‘You know I have, Brother. And Godbless the other.’

‘No, no.’ Athelstan shook his head and put Bonaventure down. ‘I mean those Frenchmen at Hawkmere. Did you kill them?’

‘No, Father, you know I did not.’

Athelstan’s body shook with a shiver. ‘I am sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I have seen men die before but,’ he took a great gulp from the wine cup, ‘I wish old Jack was here!’

‘I could send for him.’

‘No, no.’ Athelstan put the cup down. I am trembling like a maid.’

He got to his feet and, despite the objections of the other two, knelt before each of the former assassins and gave them the last rites. The men lay crumpled on the floor. They looked pathetic now, empty faces, sightless eyes, pools of blood around their heads.

‘If God can forgive you, so can I,’ Athelstan said.

The beggar man immediately went through the assassins’ paltry possessions and found nothing but some coins which Athelstan told him to keep. They then wrapped the corpses in their cloaks and took them out. The storm had passed, the rain had stopped. They put both corpses just within the lych gate.

‘We’ll bury them tomorrow,’ Athelstan said. ‘We can put them in the ditch Pike and Watkin have dug.’

Sir Maurice now took over. He insisted that Athelstan, Bonaventura and Thaddeus go into the church.

‘I can help,’ Athelstan protested.

‘No, no, Brother, those men came for me. The least I can do is clean your house.’

Athelstan unlocked the church and, followed by the two animals, went inside. He went up into the sanctuary and, taking some cushions from a chest in the sacristy, sat there, arms crossed, staring up at the red winking sanctuary lamp. He tried to pray for himself, for Sir Maurice, for Sir Jack and those two hapless souls sent into the darkness. He prayed they would not fall into eternal night. Thaddeus was still trembling and Athelstan had to put his arm round him. Bonaventure crawled into his lap.

‘We are not a very brave trio, are we?’ Athelstan said. ‘But it was the speed, the savagery of the killing!’

Bonaventure purred.

‘I’m sorry I threw you,’ Athelstan apologised. ‘But what could I do?’

The door opened. He saw a lighted candle and two dark shapes, Sir Maurice and Godbless, came up the nave.

‘The house is clean, Brother. There wasn’t much blood.’

Godbless was eating from another bowl of stew.

‘Nothing like the cut and thrust to give a man an appetite.’

Sir Maurice stretched his hand out. ‘Come on, it is time we slept. There’s nothing more we can do.’

‘Who sent them?’

‘Ah!’ The knight’s usually handsome face turned ugly. ‘Parr! I’ll go down there tomorrow and challenge him.’

Athelstan shook his head. ‘Don’t do that, Maurice, please, for my sake!’

The knight crouched down, cupping the candle flame in his hand.

‘You really don’t think it was Parr, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Athelstan replied. He got to his feet. ‘Those assassins. You see, if they had been captured and questioned, Parr would have lost his head on Tower Green or even hanged at Tyburn!’ He sighed. I suspect it’s Mercurius. And how could those villains lead us back to him? Ah well. In the end we’ll know the truth. Come on, Godbless, you’d best sleep on the kitchen floor.’

Athelstan glanced at the knight.

‘Won’t my Lord of Gaunt miss you at the Savoy?’

‘I’m in the Regent’s favour. What I do, Brother, for two or three days, is of no concern to him.’

While Sir Maurice and Godbless, accompanied by Thaddeus and Bonaventure, went back to the house, Athelstan locked the door of the church. He then went and stood over the two corpses laid out on the wet grass. He sketched a blessing above them and returned to the house.

At Mass the following morning, St Erconwald’s was well attended. The parish council turned out in force, thronging into the sanctuary. Athelstan realised that the news of the attack had somehow spread throughout Southwark. He gave the final blessing and turned to go into the sanctuary.

‘Shall we hang them, Brother?’ Pike coolly shouted, leaning on his shovel. ‘Shall we hang them up by their heels as a warning?’

His words were greeted by a roar of approval from the other parishioners. Athelstan glimpsed Benedicta’s pale face as she stared hollow-eyed at him, her lips moving as if she were quietly reciting a prayer.

‘You’ll leave the corpses as they are. What are their bodies now but poor husks? Their souls are before God, but you can help me.’

After he had divested, Athelstan went into the cemetery, his parishioners streaming around him. Hig the pigman stood on guard over the corpses, a thick cudgel in his hand.

‘Crim,’ Athelstan said. ‘Go back to the sacristy. Bring a stoup of holy water and an asperges rod. Pike, over there, beneath the yew trees, you’ll find an old wooden cross.’

‘You are not going to bury them here?’ Pernell the Fleming woman screeched.

‘It’s a Christian act to bury the dead,’ Athelstan replied.

‘Aren’t you going to tell us what happened?’ Manger the hang-man spoke up.

‘They came here to rob. And my good friend Sir Maurice Maltravers heroically defended me! A true hero, a Sir Galahad!’

The knight was immediately mobbed by the parishioners.

‘Your priest was brave as well,’ he declared. ‘And so was Godbless!’

The beggar man, too, received tribute. Athelstan glimpsed Benedicta slipping him some coins.

‘We’ll bury them here,’ Athelstan announced. ‘And they’ll wait till the resurrection.’

‘Aye, when the buggers wake up,’ Watkin roared, ‘the first thing I’ll do is smack them in the ear!’

A chorus of approval greeted the dung-collector’s words.

‘Rats they are.’ Ranulf the rat-catcher spoke up. ‘And rats they died. Oh, by the way, Brother, you haven’t forgotten our Mass tomorrow?’

‘What’s this?’ Watkin asked.

‘Ranulf will tell you,’ Athelstan said. ‘And I want no argument.’

Pike returned carrying the little wooden cross.

‘Where are you going to bury them, Brother?’

‘In that ditch along the cemetery wall.’

Pike’s face fell. He glanced sideways at Watkin.

‘It stands to reason,’ Athelstan continued. ‘They will be buried in consecrated soil but only just.’ He scuffed the wet grass with his sandals. ‘Despite the rain, the soil’s too hard. It saves you digging an extra grave. Finally, no one ever asks to be buried next to the wall.’

‘That’s true,’ said Bladdersniff. He was still swaying on his feet as the effect of last night’s ale made itself felt. ‘Best place for them,’ he added.