The Devil's Domain Read Online Free PDF

Marshalsea and Fleet prisons, manacled together, clattered and clashed their chains as they were marched up to the courts, the tipstaffs keeping order with their white willow wands. Windows and doors were flung open, people were shouting and talking to passersby. A dung cart had turned over, spilling its messy contents out. Some of the ordure had landed on a fruit stall and bailiffs were desperately striving to prevent a fight breaking out between its owner and the dung-collector. Everyone fell silent as a funeral procession passed. The corpse was laid out on a stretcher covered by a sheet, carried by four friars who mumbled the prayers of the dead; an altar boy ran in front of them, holding a candle and ringing a bell.
    Sir John kept his head down as he pulled at Judas who really needed no second bidding but trotted along as obediently as any trained dog. A group of whores came out of an alley, heads bald as pigeons’ eggs, coloured wigs clutched in their hands. They espied Sir John and followed him, making up a lewd song about the coroner and his goat. Only when he turned round, his face like thunder, did the whores stop. One of them turned and lifted her ragged, dusty dress and they all fled laughing and joking among themselves. A few beggar boys then took up the game. Sir John sighed; by evening Lady Maude would know what he had done and he would have to explain.
    ‘Oh Sir John, Sir John!’
    He groaned and stopped. Leif the red-haired, one-legged beggar came hopping towards him as nimble as a cricket. Sir John had never met a more vexatious fellow but one look at poor Leif’s scared face and the coroner’s heart softened. Leif could wheedle a penny out of a miser.
    ‘Sir John, have you heard me?’
    The coroner used the opportunity to flail out at the urchins who scampered away.
    ‘Why, Sir John, what a beautiful goat. Are you taking it home?’
    Sir John gazed bleakly back.
    ‘You’ve heard me, Sir John,’ Leif gabbled, deciding it best to ignore Sir John’s strange companion.
    ‘In sweet heaven’s name, Leif, what are you chattering about?’
    ‘I’ve decided to become a singer, Sir John. A chanteur.’
    And, without being invited, Leif threw his head back, one hand on his chest. ‘My love,’ he warbled, ‘is like a flower, fresh and sweet.’
    ‘Thank you, Leif,’ Sir John bawled.
    ‘I sang last night, Sir John, outside your chamber.’
    I thought it was cats fighting.’
    Leif stared mournfully back. Sir John heaved a sigh and delved into his purse. He thrust a coin into the beggar man’s hand.
    ‘Look, Leif, there’s a penny.’
    ‘Oh, thank you, Sir John, is that for my singing?’
    ‘No, Leif, it isn’t. You are not to sing beneath my chamber. You will frighten the poppets. Secondly, you are not to follow me into the Holy Lamb of God. And, thirdly, you are not to tell Lady Maude I’ve been there.’
    ‘Very good, Sir John.’ Leif hopped away, warbling his head off.
    ‘Come on, Judas!’ Sir John urged. ‘There’s no problem in life which can’t be resolved by a meat pie and a tankard of ale.’
    And, like an arrow finding its mark, Sir John pushed his way across Cheapside into the tangy, warm welcome of the tavern.
    The taverner’s wife fussed over him. She brought a frothing tankard of ale and a meat pie. Sir John made the mistake of sitting back in his favourite seat near the garden window; when he glanced down, Judas was munching the greens round the pie and licking the pastry.
    ‘Oh!’ he groaned and called for a second dish. ‘I just hope Brother Athelstan takes you.’
    The taverner’s wife, laughing and joking, brought across a second tray. Sir John held it on his lap and ate quickly, glaring suspiciously at Judas.
    I wonder what Athelstan will think about you?’ he muttered.
    But, there again, the coroner reflected, there were many questions he would like to ask his secretarius. He had been horrified by the stories, which had not been proved or denied, that Athelstan