The Straw Men(8)

‘Sir John, Master Thibault,’ Athelstan demanded, ‘what is going on? Why have I been brought here?’

‘They have asked for you.’ Cranston took a swig from his wine skin.

‘Who have? Sir John, please, what is happening?’ Though remembering Ranulf’s interruption of Mass, Athelstan began to suspect the worst. Cranston leaned against the wall, the others grouped around him. Athelstan sensed there was something very wrong. The coroner would not look him in the eye. He was about to speak when a shout echoed from the Roundhoop.

‘We have glimpsed a black and white robe. Is Athelstan the Dominican here?’

‘Yes!’ Athelstan shouted back before anyone could stop him. ‘Yes, I am. What do you want with me?’

‘To talk.’

Athelstan turned to Cranston. ‘Why,’ he demanded fiercely, ‘am I here?’

‘Four days ago,’ Thibault answered, ‘we were attacked on our way to the Tower.’

‘Yes, I’d heard about that – the entire city did.’

‘Our assailants were despatched by the Upright Men, leaders of the so-called “Great Community of the Realm”.’

‘And?’

‘We heard,’ Cranston replied, gesturing at Thibault, ‘how some of the Upright Men were meeting at the Roundhoop. Minehost here, Simon Goodmayes, is known to be sympathetic to their cause.’

‘In other words,’ Athelstan replied abruptly, ‘Master Simon does not want his tavern burnt to the ground when the Day of Judgement arrives; that is what they call it, yes?’

‘True.’ Cranston smiled at the little friar so uncharacteristically angry. ‘Master Thibault has spies among the Upright Men; they alerted us to this meeting.’

‘We surrounded the Roundhoop,’ Thibault declared. ‘The tavern stands behind a square stone wall with a garden at the back. We now have it sealed. Believe me, Brother, escape is impossible.’

‘The Upright Men realized they’d been betrayed,’ Cranston declared. ‘They hanged two of the tavern servants and slaughtered Master Simon’s mastiffs. Everyone else has fled, faster than rabbits under the hawk. The Upright Men now have Master Simon and a few customers held to ransom.’

‘How many Upright Men are there?’ Athelstan asked.

‘Perhaps ten in all,’ Thibault replied. ‘We arrived and they acted swiftly. Doors were barred; two of the servants apparently tried to escape and were summarily hanged. The mastiffs turned nasty; they realized their master was in danger, so they were killed.’

‘And why are you here, sirs?’ Athelstan turned to the two Flemings.

‘Because, Brother,’ Pieter Oudernarde lowered the muffler from around his mouth, ‘we believe these same outlaws organized the attack on us four days ago. We are certain our possessions were stolen.’ The Fleming caught Thibault’s eye; he coughed and pulled a face. ‘We would also like to see justice done.’

‘And your property returned?’

‘Yes, Brother,’ Cornelius piped up, his reedy voice uncomfortable on the ear. ‘To see our property – certain items – returned.’

‘And yet I ask again,’ Athelstan insisted, ‘why am I here? What do you want me to do?’

‘The Upright Men want to negotiate,’ Cranston murmured, holding the friar’s gaze, warning him with his eyes that all was not what it appeared to be.

‘To negotiate? Why me?’

‘You are well known, Brother,’ Cranston again replied, gesturing at the others to remain silent.

‘Will he talk?’ a voice bellowed from the tavern.

‘What do they want?’

‘Safe passage, probably by river.’

‘And if not?’

‘They will kill the hostages and fight to the death!’ Cranston declared brusquely. ‘Look at the Roundhoop, Brother – built of stone like a castle tower. We cannot burn them out.’

Athelstan ignored the deep unease tugging at his soul. Cranston could say more but this was neither the time nor the place.

‘I will go in,’ Athelstan said wearily. ‘Let us hear what they have to say.’ A bunch of evergreen was brought from a nearby garden lashed to a pole. Athelstan threw this into the gateway.

‘Pax et Bonum,’ he called. ‘I will speak.’

‘Tu solus frater,’ a voice sang out in Latin. ‘You alone, Brother.’ Athelstan, fingering the wooden cross on the cord around his neck, stepped around the gateway. He walked slowly across the cobbles, quietly murmuring the prayers for the dead, trying not to think of himself but the two corpses dangling by their necks, young men hurled violently into eternity with neither prayer nor blessing. The great wooden doors of the tavern swung open though no one appeared.