Read Online The Field of Blood by Paul Doherty - Free Book Online Page B

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 what to think. In his time he’d discovered that murder could have the sweetest face and the kindliest smile.
    ‘I shall pray for you, Mistress Vestler,’ he murmured.
    The woman’s face came up, her eyes hard.
    ‘Pray, Brother? What use is prayer now? Alice Brokestreet has had her way. Will you pray for me when they turn me off the ladder at Smithfield?’
    ‘That has not yet happened. Put your trust in God and Sir John.’
    Gathering up his chancery bag, Athelstan joined Sir John and Hengan out in the gallery. The lawyer was deeply agitated.
    ‘Sir Jack! Sir Jack! What can we do?’
    ‘Master Hengan, I’ve told you the evidence. What other explanation could there be?’
    ‘Is it possible that Alice Brokestreet and another murdered Bartholomew and Margot then buried their corpses in Black Meadow?’
    ‘What proof is there of that?’ Athelstan asked.
    Hengan, anxious-eyed, stared back.
    ‘Master Hengan, you are a lawyer,’ Athelstan continued. ‘I merely ask what Chief