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Authors: Paul Doherty
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governance of this city . . .’ He stopped, closing his eyes. ‘Yes, in
Caput Decimus,
in chapter ten, “On the inflicting of petty punishments”, I argue that these brandings should be carried out in the prison yard.’
He opened his eyes but Athelstan and the young woman were now twenty paces ahead, going down Little Britain. Cranston hurried to catch them up. Athelstan paused to ask directions from a stallholder, then they continued on until he stopped before a four-storey, well-furnished mansion, which stood in its own small plot of land with an alleyway at either side. He brought the iron knocker down on the door. A young maid opened it, her face thin and white under a small mobcap. Her eyes rounded in fear as she looked at Brother Athelstan and then at the huge bulk of Sir John.
‘Did Luke Peslep live here?’ the coroner boomed.
‘Oh yes, your grace.’ The young maid bobbed and curtsied. ‘He has two chambers on the second floor.’
‘Two?’ Cranston murmured. ‘A wealthy man our clerk. Do you have a key?’
‘The master’s out,’ the maid replied. ‘But,’ she added hastily as Sir John drew his brows together, ‘I have a key here.’
She led them into a sweet-smelling passage, up the brightly polished oaken stairs and into a small recess. She inserted the key and flung open the door. Sir John, followed by Alison and Athelstan, entered.
The room was dark so the maid opened some shutters. As she did so, Cranston whistled and Athelstan exclaimed in surprise. Peslep’s lodgings were no paltry chamber but two rooms, a small parlour and a bedroom. As the maid lit candles and opened more windows, Athelstan could see that Peslep had lived a most luxurious life: damask hangings on the wall; a velvet cloth-of-gold bedspread; tables, chairs, stools and chests. On the far wall were two shelves, one with silver and pewter pots, the other with three books and a collection of rolled manuscripts. On the wall facing the bed hung a small tapestry depicting a scene from the Old Testament showing Delilah seducing Samson. Delilah wore hardly any clothing and stood in the most delightful poses.
‘Even the devil can quote scripture,’ Cranston whispered in Athelstan’s ear.
The young maid hurriedly left.
‘Come back!’ Athelstan called.
The young girl did so. Athelstan pointed to the key. ‘You know Master Peslep’s dead?’
She just stared blankly back.
‘We found no key on his corpse,’ Athelstan explained.
‘Oh,’ the young girl replied, ‘he always left it with me, sir, so I could clean the chamber.’
And he did so this morning?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And no one came here after he had left?’
‘No, sir, they didn’t,’ the maid replied. ‘But I saw Master Peslep go down the street. I was brushing the front step and, as I did so, I noticed someone else, another young man cloaked and cowled, spurs on his boots. He followed Master Peslep as if he’d been waiting for him.’
CHAPTER 4
‘Would you recognise him again?’ Cranston asked.
‘Oh no, sir, just a glimpse then he was gone, Master Peslep with him.’
The young maid left. They went back to their searches. Alison seemed bored. She sat on a quilted cushion, tapping her foot as if impatient to be gone. At last Athelstan found the dead clerk’s writing box. It was locked, so Cranston prised the clasp loose with his dagger and emptied the contents on to the table. Prominent amongst them was a roll of parchment containing a list of riddles. Athelstan scrutinised this.
‘These clerks really love puzzles,’ he murmured.
‘It’s more than a game.’ Alison spoke up. ‘My brother was always talking about it, asking me to search for fresh ones.’
‘And the assassin knew that,’ Athelstan replied. He picked up a smaller scroll, undid it and whistled under his breath. ‘Sir John, look at this.’
Cranston grasped it and studied the list of figures.
‘It’s from Orifab, the goldsmiths in Cheapside,’ he muttered. He looked
Caput Decimus,
in chapter ten, “On the inflicting of petty punishments”, I argue that these brandings should be carried out in the prison yard.’
He opened his eyes but Athelstan and the young woman were now twenty paces ahead, going down Little Britain. Cranston hurried to catch them up. Athelstan paused to ask directions from a stallholder, then they continued on until he stopped before a four-storey, well-furnished mansion, which stood in its own small plot of land with an alleyway at either side. He brought the iron knocker down on the door. A young maid opened it, her face thin and white under a small mobcap. Her eyes rounded in fear as she looked at Brother Athelstan and then at the huge bulk of Sir John.
‘Did Luke Peslep live here?’ the coroner boomed.
‘Oh yes, your grace.’ The young maid bobbed and curtsied. ‘He has two chambers on the second floor.’
‘Two?’ Cranston murmured. ‘A wealthy man our clerk. Do you have a key?’
‘The master’s out,’ the maid replied. ‘But,’ she added hastily as Sir John drew his brows together, ‘I have a key here.’
She led them into a sweet-smelling passage, up the brightly polished oaken stairs and into a small recess. She inserted the key and flung open the door. Sir John, followed by Alison and Athelstan, entered.
The room was dark so the maid opened some shutters. As she did so, Cranston whistled and Athelstan exclaimed in surprise. Peslep’s lodgings were no paltry chamber but two rooms, a small parlour and a bedroom. As the maid lit candles and opened more windows, Athelstan could see that Peslep had lived a most luxurious life: damask hangings on the wall; a velvet cloth-of-gold bedspread; tables, chairs, stools and chests. On the far wall were two shelves, one with silver and pewter pots, the other with three books and a collection of rolled manuscripts. On the wall facing the bed hung a small tapestry depicting a scene from the Old Testament showing Delilah seducing Samson. Delilah wore hardly any clothing and stood in the most delightful poses.
‘Even the devil can quote scripture,’ Cranston whispered in Athelstan’s ear.
The young maid hurriedly left.
‘Come back!’ Athelstan called.
The young girl did so. Athelstan pointed to the key. ‘You know Master Peslep’s dead?’
She just stared blankly back.
‘We found no key on his corpse,’ Athelstan explained.
‘Oh,’ the young girl replied, ‘he always left it with me, sir, so I could clean the chamber.’
And he did so this morning?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And no one came here after he had left?’
‘No, sir, they didn’t,’ the maid replied. ‘But I saw Master Peslep go down the street. I was brushing the front step and, as I did so, I noticed someone else, another young man cloaked and cowled, spurs on his boots. He followed Master Peslep as if he’d been waiting for him.’
CHAPTER 4
‘Would you recognise him again?’ Cranston asked.
‘Oh no, sir, just a glimpse then he was gone, Master Peslep with him.’
The young maid left. They went back to their searches. Alison seemed bored. She sat on a quilted cushion, tapping her foot as if impatient to be gone. At last Athelstan found the dead clerk’s writing box. It was locked, so Cranston prised the clasp loose with his dagger and emptied the contents on to the table. Prominent amongst them was a roll of parchment containing a list of riddles. Athelstan scrutinised this.
‘These clerks really love puzzles,’ he murmured.
‘It’s more than a game.’ Alison spoke up. ‘My brother was always talking about it, asking me to search for fresh ones.’
‘And the assassin knew that,’ Athelstan replied. He picked up a smaller scroll, undid it and whistled under his breath. ‘Sir John, look at this.’
Cranston grasped it and studied the list of figures.
‘It’s from Orifab, the goldsmiths in Cheapside,’ he muttered. He looked
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