The Straw Men

he quietly accused himself, ‘are becoming tired and your brain fanciful.’ He took a deep breath, tried to clear his mind and went in search of where Benedicta had hidden the house key. Once he found it, he ensured Philomel was comfortable, unlocked the door and walked into the stone-flagged kitchen, clean-swept, tidy but very cold. Athelstan took a taper to the hour candle. He lit the spigots and lantern horns before firing the braziers and the kindling in the hearth. Benedicta had left a lamp with perfumed oil of the anointment of roses to sweeten the air. A scratching at the door disturbed the friar’s enjoyment of the fragrance. He allowed Bonaventure in and the cat immediately joined the friar at the hearth. Athelstan pulled across the two rods; from each hung a small cauldron on a chain, one containing oatmeal, the other a soup, thickened and seasoned with herbs and onions. The room slowly thawed, the savoury smells from the pots curling out. Once the food was ready Athelstan prepared two bowls for himself and a pot of oatmeal for Bonaventure. The friar sat at the table, blessed both himself and the cat and ate slowly, staring into the flames.

‘Where do I begin, Bonaventure?’ he murmured. The cat scarcely lifted its head. ‘Just like Sir John, absorbed in your food. Well, let me explain. There are two camps. My Lord of Gaunt’s and that of the Upright Men, who definitely have a cell here in Saint Erconwald’s. Each party has a spy deep in the other’s household, and so it begins.’ Athelstan gulped a spoonful. ‘Gaunt brings his agents the Oudernardes from Ghent. They escort a mysterious prisoner, probably a woman, along with those two severed heads: one belongs to a young man, the other to an older woman. Both must have spoken some hideous slander against Gaunt, hence the removal of their tongues before their heads were severed. The gruesome remains were probably brought to London as trophies as well as proof of a task well done, of clacking tongues being silenced forever.’ Athelstan supped another mouthful. ‘The Upright Men stole the heads during that attack but failed to capture the mysterious prisoner. I wonder, Bonaventure, who gave them such excellent intelligence of where Gaunt’s party would be at a certain time on a certain day in the depth of winter?’ Athelstan waved his spoon at Bonaventure. ‘At the Roundhoop Thibault struck like a hawk. Who among the Upright Men told him about such a meeting?’ Bonaventure, who’d licked his bowl clean, cast an envious eye on those of this strange little friar. Athelstan pushed the oatmeal towards his dining companion. ‘Not the best of banquets, Bonaventure, but at least it’s hot. Now, what did really happen at the Roundhoop? Something definitely did but I can’t place it. What did that young man mean when he said the woman should continue gleaning? And what was he looking for? Some people might say he was all feverish due to the shock of death but I don’t think so.’

Athelstan paused, listening to the faint sounds from outside. Darkness would be falling, and the freezing cold would keep most of his parishioners indoors. ‘I wonder,’ Athelstan put down his spoon and stroked Bonaventure, ‘has Gaunt, my learned cat, truly placed a spy here in my parish?’ He stared at the crucifix fastened above the hearth. ‘None of my parishioners were present in Saint John’s Chapel, thank God.’ Athelstan swiftly crossed himself. ‘But Bonaventure, a clever assassin certainly was.’ Athelstan rose to put a log on the fire; when he turned back Bonaventure was finishing his soup. ‘Wretched cat!’ Athelstan whispered. ‘But who was that Judas man in the chapel? How did he kill? At first I suspected he used Hell’s mouth to shield and hide himself but, to do that, he would have to detach it from the rood screen, and that never happened.’ He breathed out noisily. ‘Yet how could that assassin loose two bolts and not be seen, leave those severed heads and not be detected? And how did the assassin trap Barak in that crypt, strike him at the back of the head, strap on the war belt, thrust a crossbow into his hand then hurl him from that window?’ Athelstan shook his head. ‘All a great mystery, even more so Eli’s death. Imagine a chamber like this, Bonaventure. No secret entrances, the window shuttered both within and outside, the door locked and barred. So how was Eli killed by a crossbow bolt? The eyelet was sealed and stuck?’ Athelstan moved to the door. ‘Even if it wasn’t, if I open the eyelet here and slide the shutter back, I’d see a weapon thrust against the gap. I’d already be vigilant – that’s why we use an eyelet – even more so if I glimpsed a crossbow.’ Athelstan went and stood before the hearth. ‘And that mysterious fire? I am sure it was a diversion so Eli’s killer could slip through the darkness. Why Eli? A simple player? To spread terror or,’ Athelstan wagged a finger, ‘did he see something untoward in that chapel? Or was he simply murdered because he might have done? Yes,’ Athlestan rubbed his hands, ‘that’s a start. After Oudernarde was struck, everyone, including myself, was at the far end of that nave, except Eli. Why was he slain? And, above all,’ Athelstan went back to his chair, ‘how was it done?’ He stared into the fire. As he stroked Bonaventure, his eyes grew heavy so he put his head down on his arms and slept. A loud knocking on the door eventually aroused him. Athelstan glanced at the hour candle – an entire ring had burned. He hurried to the door.

‘Brother Athelstan, it’s me, Flaxwith, and two of my bailiffs.’ Athelstan drew the bolts and let them in. All three were draped in cloaks and mantles, mufflers and hoods pulled close. Flaxwith’s mastiff stayed obediently outside; he and Bonaventure had met before