that!’
‘Good, Benedicta! Now we enter the realm of logic and evidence. Why should their corpses be kept? This is where the assassin, or assassins, made a mistake. I am sure Sholter’s corpse would either have been destroyed by fire or hidden so it was never discovered. Matters, however, were complicated by the two intruders, so the assassin had to be careful. Hiding one corpse is relatively simple but three? The assassin, or assassins, returned on Sunday evening to finish their work with Sholter but the killing of the other two foiled that plan. Fire was the best solution but to burn a house requires oil and kindling. It’s out in the countryside and such grisly preparations might be observed.’
‘So, he was planning to return?’
‘Possibly. When people were looking elsewhere for Sholter, the assassin, or assassins, would return, probably Monday evening, burning the house to the ground and consuming the corpses hidden inside. However, there’s something more interesting. Tell me, Benedicta, when you leave your house what do you do?’ He grasped her hand. ‘Close your eyes. Tell me precisely what you do!’
‘I put my cloak on. I make sure I am carrying my wallet, purse and belt. I check that there are no candles or fires left burning.’
‘Good, honest woman.’
‘I close the windows, lock the door and put the key in my wallet.’
‘Go on!’ Athelstan encouraged her.
‘I am walking down the street. I am thinking about what I am going to buy. I am also worried about a certain meddlesome priest . . .’ Benedicta rubbed her eyes. ‘Who doesn’t eat properly.’
‘Terrible man,’ Athelstan answered. ‘But what else, Benedicta? What do you check?’
‘That my key and any monies I carry are safe.’ She laughed deep in her throat. ‘The St Christopher medal!’
‘Oh
mulier fortis et audax,
brave and bold woman,’ Athelstan replied, quoting from the scriptures. ‘You have said it, Benedicta! Here is a messenger leaving his young wife. He will stop at a tavern on Saturday evening and continue his journey on Sunday. He’s riding through open countryside. He’s well armed and protected: however, he’s a young man who has a deep devotion to St Christopher and knows such journeys can be dangerous. Isn’t it strange, Benedicta, that he never feels his neck for the chain, never realises it’s missing until he reaches the Silken Thomas?’ Athelstan held a finger to his lips. ‘What he does next is both reasonable and logical. He hurries back but, surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten it in the first place? And, even if he had, he must have noticed it was missing long before he reached the tavern?’
‘There’s only one flaw in your logic.’
‘I am sure there is. And it would take a woman to find it.’
‘What if Eccleshall is telling the truth? What happens if Sholter deliberately left the medal behind to provide a pretext for returning home?’
Athelstan raised his eyebrows. ‘Prior Anselm would like you. It’s possible! Sholter, for some reason unknown to us, distrusts his pretty young wife so he goes to the tavern and decides to return. He rides through the night, reaches Mincham Lane where his wife is entertaining someone else. A quarrel breaks out. Sholter is killed.’ He glanced at Benedicta. ‘And what next, mistress of logic?’
‘The corpse is put into a cart, covered or hidden, and taken out to that derelict house.’
‘Now, that is possible. But a cart would be seen, it would leave marks. It has to be trundled through busy streets and why go there? Why not take it out through Aldgate, hide it in the wild countryside north of the Tower?’ He tapped Benedicta on the nose. ‘But I accept your reasoning. Yet I am certain either one, or both, of that precious pair are implicated in Sholter’s murder.’ He fought back his anger. ‘For which this parish is going to pay.’
‘There are other difficulties,’ Benedicta pointed out. ‘What if we can prove that Mistress
‘Good, Benedicta! Now we enter the realm of logic and evidence. Why should their corpses be kept? This is where the assassin, or assassins, made a mistake. I am sure Sholter’s corpse would either have been destroyed by fire or hidden so it was never discovered. Matters, however, were complicated by the two intruders, so the assassin had to be careful. Hiding one corpse is relatively simple but three? The assassin, or assassins, returned on Sunday evening to finish their work with Sholter but the killing of the other two foiled that plan. Fire was the best solution but to burn a house requires oil and kindling. It’s out in the countryside and such grisly preparations might be observed.’
‘So, he was planning to return?’
‘Possibly. When people were looking elsewhere for Sholter, the assassin, or assassins, would return, probably Monday evening, burning the house to the ground and consuming the corpses hidden inside. However, there’s something more interesting. Tell me, Benedicta, when you leave your house what do you do?’ He grasped her hand. ‘Close your eyes. Tell me precisely what you do!’
‘I put my cloak on. I make sure I am carrying my wallet, purse and belt. I check that there are no candles or fires left burning.’
‘Good, honest woman.’
‘I close the windows, lock the door and put the key in my wallet.’
‘Go on!’ Athelstan encouraged her.
‘I am walking down the street. I am thinking about what I am going to buy. I am also worried about a certain meddlesome priest . . .’ Benedicta rubbed her eyes. ‘Who doesn’t eat properly.’
‘Terrible man,’ Athelstan answered. ‘But what else, Benedicta? What do you check?’
‘That my key and any monies I carry are safe.’ She laughed deep in her throat. ‘The St Christopher medal!’
‘Oh
mulier fortis et audax,
brave and bold woman,’ Athelstan replied, quoting from the scriptures. ‘You have said it, Benedicta! Here is a messenger leaving his young wife. He will stop at a tavern on Saturday evening and continue his journey on Sunday. He’s riding through open countryside. He’s well armed and protected: however, he’s a young man who has a deep devotion to St Christopher and knows such journeys can be dangerous. Isn’t it strange, Benedicta, that he never feels his neck for the chain, never realises it’s missing until he reaches the Silken Thomas?’ Athelstan held a finger to his lips. ‘What he does next is both reasonable and logical. He hurries back but, surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten it in the first place? And, even if he had, he must have noticed it was missing long before he reached the tavern?’
‘There’s only one flaw in your logic.’
‘I am sure there is. And it would take a woman to find it.’
‘What if Eccleshall is telling the truth? What happens if Sholter deliberately left the medal behind to provide a pretext for returning home?’
Athelstan raised his eyebrows. ‘Prior Anselm would like you. It’s possible! Sholter, for some reason unknown to us, distrusts his pretty young wife so he goes to the tavern and decides to return. He rides through the night, reaches Mincham Lane where his wife is entertaining someone else. A quarrel breaks out. Sholter is killed.’ He glanced at Benedicta. ‘And what next, mistress of logic?’
‘The corpse is put into a cart, covered or hidden, and taken out to that derelict house.’
‘Now, that is possible. But a cart would be seen, it would leave marks. It has to be trundled through busy streets and why go there? Why not take it out through Aldgate, hide it in the wild countryside north of the Tower?’ He tapped Benedicta on the nose. ‘But I accept your reasoning. Yet I am certain either one, or both, of that precious pair are implicated in Sholter’s murder.’ He fought back his anger. ‘For which this parish is going to pay.’
‘There are other difficulties,’ Benedicta pointed out. ‘What if we can prove that Mistress
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