pen all courtesy of Sir John. He then emptied his satchel and made himself ready by intoning the ‘
Veni Creator Spiritus
’, asking for divine help with the murderous mystery confronting him. Certain matters had already been clarified. Earlier in the evening a Guildhall courier had brought him information on how all the corpses taken from The Candle-Flame had been examined by no lesser person than Bertrand de Troyes, a royal physician. He declared how he could detect no trace of poison or any other potion except ale and wine. All victims had died brutally of their wounds. The same physician had been with Lascelles when the scraps and dregs served in the Barbican had been examined. They could discover very little. A horde of rats had devoured the lot but with no ill effect. Lascelles had even called in the services of the Guildhall rat-catcher, who searched about but concluded there was nothing amiss which a gaggle of ferrets could not resolve. So, Athelstan wondered, how had all those murders been perpetrated so mysteriously?
‘
Primo
, Bonaventure.’ The friar spoke as he wrote. Occasionally he would glance up; the great cat had demolished what was left of the venison and now squatted on the table watching Athelstan expectantly. ‘
Primo
, Bonaventure,’ he repeated, ‘those two archers killed by the campfire were tired and cold. The flames would illuminate them as clear targets for the assassin. In a matter of a few heartbeats, crossbow bolts struck one and then the other.
Secundo
, how did the assassin, or assassins, enter that Barbican? The solitary window was locked, closed and shuttered firmly on both sides. Apparently the tavern has no ladder long enough to reach it; moreover, Marsen and the rest would surely have killed any intruder attempting to break in? The door? Mooncalf, and I believe him, swears that it was locked and bolted. More mysteriously, so was the trapdoor which governs access to and from the second storey. Both entrance and flight from the roof is nigh impossible.
Tertio
,’ Athelstan paused to dip his quill in ink, ‘the assassin must be a skilled master-at-arms to slay seasoned archers, veterans, not to mention Marsen and Mauclerc who would surely resist. More mysterious still, why hadn’t those on the upper storey who heard the swordplay below be warned and gone to their help or, if the assassin abruptly appeared in the upper storey, though only God knows how, surely those on the ground floor would have been alerted?
Quarto
, the exchequer coffer. How was that opened and plundered? It had three locks. When Marsen and Mauclerc’s corpses had been stripped in the death house at the Guildhall, a key had been found on chains around each of their necks. The third must be held by Hugh of Hornsey, who has disappeared. So, how had the exchequer chest been opened and riffled so easily?
Quinto
, how did that assassin leave carrying the treasure without using window or door?’ Athelstan paused as Bonaventure padded closer, head going out to Athelstan’s tankard. ‘Judas cat!’ the friar whispered. ‘You act all humble but in truth you are hungry. Let us continue.’ Athelstan smoothed the parchment in front of him. ‘
Sexto
, Hugh of Hornsey. Victim or perpetrator? Did that elegant gauntlet and the chainmail wristguard belong to him? Was the captain of archers dead or alive? If the former, why hasn’t his corpse been found like the rest? If alive, why the flight, which obviously casts him as the murderer?
Septimo
, which is seventh to you, cat.’ Athelstan ruffled the fur between Bonaventure’s scarred ears, battle trophies of the cat’s ferocious fights along the alleyways of Southwark. ‘Was that mysterious assassin, Beowulf, the secret friend and ally of the Upright Men, responsible? Was Beowulf a stranger or someone at the tavern?
Octavo
, had Beowulf also been responsible for physician Scrope’s murder, and if so why? The physician was Marsen’s implacable foe, preparing to indict
Veni Creator Spiritus
’, asking for divine help with the murderous mystery confronting him. Certain matters had already been clarified. Earlier in the evening a Guildhall courier had brought him information on how all the corpses taken from The Candle-Flame had been examined by no lesser person than Bertrand de Troyes, a royal physician. He declared how he could detect no trace of poison or any other potion except ale and wine. All victims had died brutally of their wounds. The same physician had been with Lascelles when the scraps and dregs served in the Barbican had been examined. They could discover very little. A horde of rats had devoured the lot but with no ill effect. Lascelles had even called in the services of the Guildhall rat-catcher, who searched about but concluded there was nothing amiss which a gaggle of ferrets could not resolve. So, Athelstan wondered, how had all those murders been perpetrated so mysteriously?
‘
Primo
, Bonaventure.’ The friar spoke as he wrote. Occasionally he would glance up; the great cat had demolished what was left of the venison and now squatted on the table watching Athelstan expectantly. ‘
Primo
, Bonaventure,’ he repeated, ‘those two archers killed by the campfire were tired and cold. The flames would illuminate them as clear targets for the assassin. In a matter of a few heartbeats, crossbow bolts struck one and then the other.
Secundo
, how did the assassin, or assassins, enter that Barbican? The solitary window was locked, closed and shuttered firmly on both sides. Apparently the tavern has no ladder long enough to reach it; moreover, Marsen and the rest would surely have killed any intruder attempting to break in? The door? Mooncalf, and I believe him, swears that it was locked and bolted. More mysteriously, so was the trapdoor which governs access to and from the second storey. Both entrance and flight from the roof is nigh impossible.
Tertio
,’ Athelstan paused to dip his quill in ink, ‘the assassin must be a skilled master-at-arms to slay seasoned archers, veterans, not to mention Marsen and Mauclerc who would surely resist. More mysterious still, why hadn’t those on the upper storey who heard the swordplay below be warned and gone to their help or, if the assassin abruptly appeared in the upper storey, though only God knows how, surely those on the ground floor would have been alerted?
Quarto
, the exchequer coffer. How was that opened and plundered? It had three locks. When Marsen and Mauclerc’s corpses had been stripped in the death house at the Guildhall, a key had been found on chains around each of their necks. The third must be held by Hugh of Hornsey, who has disappeared. So, how had the exchequer chest been opened and riffled so easily?
Quinto
, how did that assassin leave carrying the treasure without using window or door?’ Athelstan paused as Bonaventure padded closer, head going out to Athelstan’s tankard. ‘Judas cat!’ the friar whispered. ‘You act all humble but in truth you are hungry. Let us continue.’ Athelstan smoothed the parchment in front of him. ‘
Sexto
, Hugh of Hornsey. Victim or perpetrator? Did that elegant gauntlet and the chainmail wristguard belong to him? Was the captain of archers dead or alive? If the former, why hasn’t his corpse been found like the rest? If alive, why the flight, which obviously casts him as the murderer?
Septimo
, which is seventh to you, cat.’ Athelstan ruffled the fur between Bonaventure’s scarred ears, battle trophies of the cat’s ferocious fights along the alleyways of Southwark. ‘Was that mysterious assassin, Beowulf, the secret friend and ally of the Upright Men, responsible? Was Beowulf a stranger or someone at the tavern?
Octavo
, had Beowulf also been responsible for physician Scrope’s murder, and if so why? The physician was Marsen’s implacable foe, preparing to indict
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