Paul Doherty: Field of Blood

'Satan's tits!'

'And when I was in the Tower last week,' Athelstan continued, 'I could see that the small churchyard outside the Tower had been refurbished. Some of the old tombstones had disappeared. When I read that entry, I began to think.' Athelstan sighed. 'Ah well, Sir John, you are coroner, an official of the city. This tavern will soon be in the hands of the Crown.'

Sir John took his dagger out and tried to slide it between the rim dividing the sundial from the grey-stone which held it.

'I doubt if you can move it,' Athelstan said.

The coroner went back to the Paradise Tree and returned carrying a heavy hammer. The ale-master came out protesting.

'Oh, shut up!' Sir John bellowed. 'And stand well

He threw his cloak over his shoulder and began to smash the stone cup which held the sundial. At first all he raised were small chips of flying stone. Time and again he brought the hammer down. The stone split, crashed and rolled on to the grass. Even before the dust cleared Athelstan knew he was correct. The stone cup had broken; on the grass, covered in a grey film of dirt, was a circle of glowing yellow about a foot across and at least nine inches thick. It lay like the cup of a chalice without the stem, beside the thin bronze face of the old sundial. Sir John and Athelstan crouched down, the rest of the servants clustered round. Athelstan took the hem of his robe and rubbed the yellow metal until it glowed, catching the rays of the sun.

'Fulgens sicut sol!' Athelstan said. 'Glowing like the sun and hidden under the sun!'

The gold, because of the way if tapered at the end, tipped and turned. Everyone's face, including Sir John's, had a strange look, eyes fixed, mouths open.

'I've never seen so much!' the coroner said wistfully. 'Not even the booty of war piled high on a cart.'

'As the preacher says,' Athelstan remarked, 'the love of wealth is the root of all evil. This was Gundulf's secret as well as his little joke. He was dying, probably a sickly man, and he thought he'd used his treasure for something useful. So he left the riddle for those who wished to search for it. Time passed and people made mistakes.' Athelstan tapped the gold with his finger. 'This has been the cause of all our troubles. Sir John, you'd best tell people here to keep a still tongue.'

Sir John got to his feet and drew his sword.

'This is the King's treasure!' he bellowed. 'To take it, to even think of stealing it, is high treason!' He pointed to the ale-master. 'You, sir, bring a barrow!'

The man didn't move, his eyes still on the gold. Sir

John lifted his sword and pricked him under the chin.

'Bring a barrow and a piece of cloth. Brother, we are going to need a company of archers to take this to the Tower.'

'We are not taking it there, Sir John, but into Black Meadow,' Athelstan said quietly. 'Go on, man!' he ordered the ale-master. 'Do what the coroner says!'

The fellow hurried away. A short while later he returned trundling a wheelbarrow, a dirty canvas sheet folded inside it. They tried to lift the gold in but it was too difficult and slippery so the handcart was laid on its side, the gold was eased in and covered with the sheet. With the help of the ale-master Sir John trundled it out of the garden and down under the shade of the great oak tree.

'Good man.' Athelstan smiled. 'Now, fetch Sir John and me two blackjacks of ale. When Master Hengan arrives bring him here!'

The fellow obeyed. Athelstan sat with his back to the oak tree. He sipped at the ale which was brought, cool and tangy; through the trees he could make out the turrets and crenellations of the Tower.

'Where is all this leading to?'

The friar turned and glimpsed Hengan coming through the lych gate.

'To the truth, Sir John, but here is Master Ralph.'

The lawyer came over, cloak flapping, his face flushed with excitement.

'You've found the treasure!' he exclaimed.

Athelstan pulled the sheet back. Hengan slumped to his knees, like a knight before the Holy Grail. His sallow, sharp face softened, all severity gone. He stretched out his hand and touched it, caressing it like a mother would a favourite child.

'It's so beautiful,' he whispered. 'Gundulf's gold!'

He eased his leather chancery bag off his shoulder, Athelstan noticing how heavy it was, and put it on the ground. Hengan pressed his face against the gold.

'Where did you find it?'

In sharp, pithy phrases Athelstan explained how he had unlocked the secret cipher. All the time he watched the lawyer's eyes and saw the resentment flare.

'So easy,' Hengan said. 'So very, very easy' Athelstan made to cover the gold up. 'No! No!'

Sir John was staring at him curiously.

'Master Ralph, this should be taken to the Tower. Couriers should be sent to my Lord of Gaunt at the Savoy.'

'Yes, yes, quite.' Hengan was still stroking the gold. 'Was it worth it?' Athelstan asked sharply. 'Oh, yes.'

'For that,' Athelstan snapped, 'you are quite prepared to see Mistress Vestler hang!'

The lawyer lifted his face. 'What do you mean?'

'You know full well,' Athelstan replied. 'Here we are, Master Hengan, under the oak tree in Black Meadow. A place you know well. After all, wasn't it here that you killed Bartholomew Menster and Margot Haden?'

Hengan sat back on his heels. 'Me? I was…'

'You are an assassin,' Athelstan said quietly. 'You killed Bartholomew, Margot and that miserable unfortunate Alice Brokestreet, and you were quite prepared to see Mistress Vestler hang!'

Hengan reminded Athelstan of a cat about to spring. He sat back on his heels but his body was quivering, lean face slightly turned.

'This is preposterous!' he stammered. 'A mistake!'

'Nothing of the sort,' Athelstan replied. 'Here under this oak tree I'll present the case against you. It's only fitting. After all, this is where you killed Bartholomew and Margot on a beautiful summer's evening.'

'I was in Canterbury.'

'You were no more in Canterbury than I was!'

Athelstan glanced at Sir John, who was nodding as if he understood the full case against Hengan but, later on, Athelstan would have to explain and apologise. He also quietly cursed his own arrogance. He'd thought it was appropriate to confront Hengan here but, now they were moving towards the truth, Hengan had changed. It was as if seeing and touching the gold had brought about a subtle shift. He seemed stronger, more resolute.

'You dreamed of this, didn't you?' Athelstan began. 'I wonder where the root of your greed lies? A lawyer who had everything. Were you born in Petty Wales, Master Ralph?'

Hengan waved a finger. 'Very good, Brother. Yes I was, in the shadow of the Tower. I know every part of that fortress, its story, its legends! As far back as I can remember, I knew about Gundulf's treasure. But it was only when I entered the Inns of Court that the dream became a reality. I began to collect manuscripts, documents, old chronicles and histories. I came across references to gold shining like the sun, being hidden in a chapel near the Tower. I also discovered the history of the Paradise Tree.' He paused. 'All the stories about it once being the site of an old chapel or church.'

'Did you know Black Meadow had been used as the burial ground for the pestilence?' Athelstan asked.

'Oh yes, but that didn't concern me.'

'Stephen and Kathryn Vestler did, didn't they?' Athelstan asked. 'You became their friend and eventually, as you intended, their family lawyer. You could visit the Paradise Tree whenever you wished. Months passed into years; you still held fast to your greed. You wouldn't discuss it with the Vestlers but used every opportunity to look around, to search, to make careful enquiries. It was very clever because now you were party to all documents, household accounts and memoranda. You could watch for anything untoward. Poor Stephen died and you became counsellor to his widow. It was only a matter of time, wasn't it?'