The Devil's Domain Read Online Free PDF Page B

had been ordered out of London to Oxford. He had only been stopped at the last minute by the direct intervention of Prior Anselm. Cranston had made his own enquiries but could discover nothing. When he had summoned up the courage to question the little Dominican, Athelstan had just shaken his head and smiled.
    ‘It’s a possibility,’ he confirmed. ‘But I think, Sir John, I’ll be in St Erconwald’s for some time. Prior Anselm says there’s no further need for me to be your secretarius. But I have begged him that I can continue and he has agreed.’
    Sir John had to be comforted by that. Athelstan had first been sent to St Erconwald’s and appointed his secretarius as a penance. Years earlier, Athelstan had fled his novitiate and, his mind full of glory, had joined his feckless younger brother in the armies in France. Stephen had been killed and Athelstan had returned, a changed and chastened man. Sir John, who had little time for prattling priests or mouldy monks, as he termed them, regarded Athelstan as a very special friend. If the Dominican ever left, some of the joy and warmth of his own life would be diminished.
    The coroner licked his fingers, drained his tankard then put the dish on the floor so Judas could finish what was left of the vegetables. He slammed a coin on the table and walked back into Cheapside. The urchins were waiting. He groaned, gritted his teeth and walked along until he reached the corner of Poultry near the Tun on the corner of Lombard Street. This great open space was used by the beadles and bailiffs of the city to punish malefactors. A whore had been bent over a barrel; her grimy, fat buttocks were being lashed by a switch of canes. A counterfeit man was being branded on his left thumb. Another was getting his ears clipped. Sir John glanced away. He hated such sights. The stocks and pillories were also full. He recognised a cheeky, dirty face under a shock of white hair straining between the wooden slats placed round his neck.
    ‘Why, if it isn’t old Godbless!’
    The man pulled up his head as far as he could, wincing with pain.
    ‘God bless you, Sir John, it’s kind of you to notice. You have a fine billy goat there. Cleaner and more obedient than a dog, Sir John.’ He stretched his neck. ‘Lord save us, I’m here to dusk and my neck’s already aching.’
    ‘What did you do?’ Sir John asked, an idea forming in his mind.
    ‘The watch found me with a piglet under my cloak. They claimed I was stealing it. I said I had found it wandering and was looking for its mother.’
    Sir John laughed and called over one of the bailiffs.
    ‘Free this man!’ he ordered.
    The bailiff wiped his dirty, sweaty face on a rag.
    ‘But, Sir John, the law says . . .’
    I am the law. Now, sir, either you free him or I’ll free him and make you take his place!’
    Godbless was soon released. A small, sinewy man dressed in a motley collection of rags, he danced in glee at his liberation. The other malefactors in the stocks now began to shout.
    ‘Sir John, over here!’
    ‘Innocent as a lamb, I am, Sir Jack!’
    ‘I didn’t mean to hit the beadle!’ another cried.
    ‘I only drank four quarts of ale!’ someone else bawled.
    Sir John ignored them and seized the dancing Godbless. ‘You’ve worked with animals, haven’t you, Godbless?’ The man stopped his dancing and nodded.
    ‘Well, you’ve been freed to help the Crown.’ Sir John passed the rope over. ‘This is Judas and he’s well named. I’m taking him to St Erconwald’s. You will follow behind at least a good three yards.’
    He passed across a coin. Godbless took it in the twinkling of an eye. The coroner leaned down and, grasping the beggar by the jerkin, picked him up till his face was level with his.
    ‘Don’t even think of it, Godbless!’
    ‘What, Sir John?’ Godbless’s bright eyes gleamed.
    ‘Running!’ Sir John declared. ‘Taking my goat and running.’ He shook Godbless. ‘Understood?’
    ‘Every word, Sir