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Authors: Paul C. Doherty
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Bartholomew and Margot,' another offered.
'There's more.' The potboy came forward, his little thin arms hanging by his side like sticks. 'I have seen Mistress Vestler burn possessions.'
Athelstan glanced at the coroner, who usually maintained his bonhomie, his fiery good humour, but his rubicund face had paled. He looked haggard, rather old.
'Oh, Sir John,' Athelstan sighed. 'What do we have here?'
'You'd best go about your duties,' Sir John told the tavern workers. 'Brother Athelstan, come with me.'
They went out up the wooden staircase. The Paradise Tree was well named. The floorboards were polished and cleaned. The windows on the stairwells were full of glass, some even painted with emblems. Bronze brackets for candles were fastened into the wooden panelling. Flowers and pots of herbs were tastefully arranged along shelves and sills. The first gallery even had woollen rugs to deaden the sound; small pictures in gilt frames decorated its walls. At the far end a door stood half-open. Inside Kathryn Vestler was sitting on a chair, Hengan beside her on a stool. The tavern-mistress's face had aged, pale, her eyes red-rimmed, her podgy cheeks soaked with tears. She had a piece of linen in her hands which she kept twisting round and round, staring at a point above their heads, lips moving wordlessly. Beside her on the floor was a half-filled goblet of wine. Hengan looked pitifully at them.
'Sir John, we have heard the rumours.'
'I am innocent!' Mistress Vestler protested. 'Before God and His angels, Sir John, I am innocent of any crime!'
Athelstan moved over to a small desk and stool while Sir John took a chair just inside the door and sat in front of the widow woman. He leaned forward and clutched her hand.
'Kathryn, I must tell you we have discovered a horrid sight.'
He then informed her in pithy phrases everything they had seen and learned since their arrival. Mistress Vestler grew more composed; Athelstan wondered if Hengan had slipped an opiate in the drink.
'I know nothing of the corpses. Margot Haden disappeared about midsummer, Bartholomew with her. True, officers came from the Tower but I could not tell them anything.'
'Why did you burn Margot's possessions?' Sir John asked.
'They were paltry,' she stammered. 'Nothing much. I, I… didn't think it was right to sell or give them to someone else, so I burned them. Bartholomew was a clerk, a fairly wealthy man. I thought Margot had left them here as tawdry rubbish. Her swain, her lover would buy her more.'
'Did you like Bartholomew?' Athelstan asked.
'He was a good, kindly man. But, Brother, I have suitors enough. Bartholomew was of little interest to me.'
'And the others?' Sir John asked. 'What others?' the woman snapped. 'Your own servants. Enquiries have been made here of people who visited the Paradise Tree.' 'That is nonsense!' Hengan spoke up heatedly. 'In what way, sir?'
'The Paradise Tree is a busy tavern. It stands near the Tower and the river. People often visit here. It is logical that enquiries were made. Did so and so come? Where have they gone?'
'But they also said you burned the possessions of people who stayed here?'
'Sir Jack,' Mistress Vestler replied. 'There are at least twenty chambers in this tavern. Guests come, they leave scraps of clothing, items of saddlery which are broken or disused. I keep a clean and tidy house. What crime is there in burning such paltry things?'
Sir John got to his feet and, in the time-honoured fashion, touched her shoulder.
'Mistress Kathryn Vestler, by the power granted to me by the King and his city council, I arrest you for the murder of Bartholomew Menster, Margot Haden and other unnamed victims!'
Mistress Vestler bowed her head and sobbed.
'You will be taken to Newgate and lodged there to answer these charges before the King's justices at the Guildhall.'
Hengan got to his feet.
'Sir John, may I have a word?'
The two left the chamber. Athelstan looked across at the weeping woman. He did not know
'There's more.' The potboy came forward, his little thin arms hanging by his side like sticks. 'I have seen Mistress Vestler burn possessions.'
Athelstan glanced at the coroner, who usually maintained his bonhomie, his fiery good humour, but his rubicund face had paled. He looked haggard, rather old.
'Oh, Sir John,' Athelstan sighed. 'What do we have here?'
'You'd best go about your duties,' Sir John told the tavern workers. 'Brother Athelstan, come with me.'
They went out up the wooden staircase. The Paradise Tree was well named. The floorboards were polished and cleaned. The windows on the stairwells were full of glass, some even painted with emblems. Bronze brackets for candles were fastened into the wooden panelling. Flowers and pots of herbs were tastefully arranged along shelves and sills. The first gallery even had woollen rugs to deaden the sound; small pictures in gilt frames decorated its walls. At the far end a door stood half-open. Inside Kathryn Vestler was sitting on a chair, Hengan beside her on a stool. The tavern-mistress's face had aged, pale, her eyes red-rimmed, her podgy cheeks soaked with tears. She had a piece of linen in her hands which she kept twisting round and round, staring at a point above their heads, lips moving wordlessly. Beside her on the floor was a half-filled goblet of wine. Hengan looked pitifully at them.
'Sir John, we have heard the rumours.'
'I am innocent!' Mistress Vestler protested. 'Before God and His angels, Sir John, I am innocent of any crime!'
Athelstan moved over to a small desk and stool while Sir John took a chair just inside the door and sat in front of the widow woman. He leaned forward and clutched her hand.
'Kathryn, I must tell you we have discovered a horrid sight.'
He then informed her in pithy phrases everything they had seen and learned since their arrival. Mistress Vestler grew more composed; Athelstan wondered if Hengan had slipped an opiate in the drink.
'I know nothing of the corpses. Margot Haden disappeared about midsummer, Bartholomew with her. True, officers came from the Tower but I could not tell them anything.'
'Why did you burn Margot's possessions?' Sir John asked.
'They were paltry,' she stammered. 'Nothing much. I, I… didn't think it was right to sell or give them to someone else, so I burned them. Bartholomew was a clerk, a fairly wealthy man. I thought Margot had left them here as tawdry rubbish. Her swain, her lover would buy her more.'
'Did you like Bartholomew?' Athelstan asked.
'He was a good, kindly man. But, Brother, I have suitors enough. Bartholomew was of little interest to me.'
'And the others?' Sir John asked. 'What others?' the woman snapped. 'Your own servants. Enquiries have been made here of people who visited the Paradise Tree.' 'That is nonsense!' Hengan spoke up heatedly. 'In what way, sir?'
'The Paradise Tree is a busy tavern. It stands near the Tower and the river. People often visit here. It is logical that enquiries were made. Did so and so come? Where have they gone?'
'But they also said you burned the possessions of people who stayed here?'
'Sir Jack,' Mistress Vestler replied. 'There are at least twenty chambers in this tavern. Guests come, they leave scraps of clothing, items of saddlery which are broken or disused. I keep a clean and tidy house. What crime is there in burning such paltry things?'
Sir John got to his feet and, in the time-honoured fashion, touched her shoulder.
'Mistress Kathryn Vestler, by the power granted to me by the King and his city council, I arrest you for the murder of Bartholomew Menster, Margot Haden and other unnamed victims!'
Mistress Vestler bowed her head and sobbed.
'You will be taken to Newgate and lodged there to answer these charges before the King's justices at the Guildhall.'
Hengan got to his feet.
'Sir John, may I have a word?'
The two left the chamber. Athelstan looked across at the weeping woman. He did not know
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