Flaxwith nodded.
‘Lucifer’s bollocks!’ Sir John exclaimed. ‘Henry, you’d better get the lot out!’
‘Hide them over there.’ Athelstan pointed to some gorse bushes in the far corner of the cemetery.
‘You suspected this, didn’t you?’ Sir John asked.
‘When Godbless brought me that arrow, yes. I’ve also been highly suspicious about those ghosts he saw.’
‘Let me see. Let me see.’ The coroner rubbed his hands. ‘If old Jack’s brain is as sharp as it should be.’ He led Athelstan well out of earshot of the rest. ‘Down the alleyway, Brother, and out of Southwark, we reach London Bridge. Once you are across that you are into the city.’
‘Go on,’ Athelstan said.
‘Now. If the Great Community of the Realm, that bunch of snivelling, secret traitors, plot their rebellions and the peasant armies move on London, the city can be defended to the north, east and west by the old wall but the southern side is different. Whoever controls London Bridge will, in fact, control the city. If the rebels pour across they can lay siege to the Tower and cut it off from the rest of London. They’ll also be able to swing west to control both banks of the Thames as well as capture Gaunt’s palace at the Savoy. Once done, they can pour into the city with no one to stop them.’
‘True, Sir John. We have been through this many a time.’
‘Now the peasant army will be armed with hoe, mattock, spade and axe. Every peasant carries a bow and so they’ll need a constant, fresh supply of arrows. By the time they reach Southwark their supplies could well be depleted as they clash with local sheriffs’ posses, landlords, barons, the great seigneurs of the countryside.’
‘Once the Regent and the Corporation know that the rebel army is marching, they’ll seize all arms supplies and either destroy them or hide them,’ Athelstan said.
‘But the rebels come to St Erconwald’s.’ Sir John smiled thinly. ‘A few yards from London Bridge, that precious pair, Watkin and Pike, have dug a deep trench, claiming they are checking on the foundations of a wall. No one objects and they can come and go as they wish… And then what, Brother?’
‘At night the Great Community of the Realm bring their pack horses through the alleyways of Southwark, well away from prying eyes. All they’ve got to face are the likes of poor Bladdersniff who is so drunk he can hardly put one foot in front of another. They climb the wall, put a rope over the branch of the sycamore tree and lower themselves into the freshly dug trench. The sacks of arrows are hidden beneath a light layer of soil and off they go. Pike and Watkin will later come and fill the rest of the trench in and, heigh ho, the Great Community have almost finished the preparations for their march on London Bridge.’ Athelstan stamped his foot in exasperation. ‘May the Lord forgive me, Sir John, Godbless claimed he saw ghosts hanging in the air! What he saw were these messengers from the Great Community climbing the wall and going up and down into that benighted trench!’
Athelstan had heard a shout from the lych gate and hurried over. Crim the altar boy was arguing with the bailiff on guard.
‘What’s the matter, Brother?’ The little boy’s face was flushed and sweating. I only came to pick some flowers.’
‘Go and fetch your father,’ Athelstan replied. ‘Don’t tell him what you have seen, Crim. Just tell Watkin to collect Pike and bring him here. It’s very urgent. Go on now!’
Crim ran off. Sir John went back to tell the bailiffs to guard the arrows then joined Athelstan in the priest’s house.
‘I am very angry,’ Athelstan declared, sitting down at the table. ‘Gaunt has spies in Southwark; Watkin and Pike could dance at Tyburn!’ He banged his fist on the table. ‘The whole parish could be fined. Now listen, Sir John, this is a matter for me.’
‘According to the law, Brother…’
‘According to the love of Christ!’ Athelstan angrily interrupted. ‘I am their parish priest!’
Sir John held his hand up in a sign of peace.
‘Brother, Brother, I am not bothered about Watkin and Pike…’
‘What’s happening?’
Godbless poked his head round the door and stepped gingerly into the room.
‘I have just put Thaddeus in the stable with Philomel. They seem to like each other.’
‘Godbless.’ Athelstan opened his purse and pushed across some coins. ‘Take these to Master Flaxwith. Tell him to leave the bailiffs in the cemetery but go down to the tavern and buy some jugs of ale. You go with him, tell no one what is happening.’
Godbless disappeared.
‘You were saying, Sir John?’
‘I am not interested in Watkin and Pike. They are just noddle-pates.’ Cranston played with the ring on his small finger. ‘But the Great Community of the Realm, now Brother, they are different. I sympathise with them. Many of the peasants are driven to desperation but, when they invade London, they’ll be traitors, rebels against the King. They’ll have no compassion on people like me and the Lady Maude. It’s a war, Athelstan. No pardon will be given and none asked.’ He breathed in noisily. ‘And the same goes for you, Brother. If you are not with them you are against them.’
‘As you would say, Sir John, I couldn’t give a fig! I don’t care if they’ve got the solemn blessing of the Holy Father in Avignon! They don’t use my cemetery as a place of war!’
He paused at a knock on the door. Watkin and Pike shuffled in, their boots caked with mud, their faces grimy and sweating.
‘You sent for us, Brother?’ Watkin licked his lips nervously.
‘Yes I did. Close the door. Lock it behind you!’
Pike did so quickly. Athelstan took the small wooden cross which hung on a cord round his neck and held it up. His face was pale and tight as he glared at these two rogues of the parish.
‘I am going to ask you questions,’ he began. ‘And, if you tell me one lie, I never wish to see you again this side of heaven!’
CHAPTER 15
Watkin and Pike did not take long to confess. They stood, hang-dog expressions on their faces, mumbling and muttering. Eventually the truth came out.
‘It’s like this,’ Watkin said lugubriously. ‘Everyone in Southwark knows the Great Community of the Realm. It’s like autumn, everyone sees it coming. One day the rebels will march on London.’ He spread his hands. ‘What can we do? If we refuse to co-operate we will all die.’
‘Co-operate?’ Athelstan intervened. ‘Do you know what it means?’ He’d caught the stumble in Watkin’s voice.
‘That’s what the Great Community of the Realm told us: co-operate or die.’
‘They are bully boys,’ Sir John broke in. ‘And they used you two noddle-pates to store arrows in a churchyard. I suppose there are plots all over Southwark just like this. And, when the graveyard was full, I suspect you’d start storing them elsewhere.’
‘Not in our houses,’ Pike warned. ‘You can’t hide quivers of arrows in the hovels of Southwark.’
‘Do you realise you could be hanged out of hand?’ Sir John barked. ‘Do you realise that, my buckoes? I could take you out, put a rope round that sycamore tree and hang you out of hand as rebels!’
‘But my lord…’
‘My lord coroner won’t!’ Athelstan said.
‘They are coming back, aren’t they?’ Sir John continued. ‘There was a storm last night so I suspect these envoys from the Great Community stayed at home. Now the soil is soft, they’ll return tonight, won’t they?’
‘We don’t know,’ Pike mumbled. ‘All they said was to dig the trench.’
‘But you knew what they were hiding there?’ Athelstan demanded.
Watkin nodded and dried his sweaty hands on his leather jacket.
‘We dug the trench then we’d always leave it open. When we came back, we’d fill a part in and continue
