By Murder's Bright Light (Sorrowful Mysteries of Brother Athelstan)
Paul Doherty, Paul Harding
Language: English
Pages: 288
ISBN: 0747244618
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
It is the winter of 1379 and a sea of trouble is besetting England as French privateers continue to attack the southern coast on a path to threaten London itself. In response an English flotilla of warships, with God’s Bright Light in its number, has dropped anchor in the Thames. When the sun rises on the flotilla’s first morning, the first mate and two of the crew of God’s Bright Light have disappeared without a trace. Sir John Cranston—the wine-loving Coroner of the City—and his clerk Brother Athelstan are summoned to resolve the mysteries on board the ill-omened warship. In particular, they must search out the truth behind the death of Sir Henry Ospring, who after visiting the ship’s captain was later viciously stabbed to death in a tavern chamber. As Cranston and Brother Athelstan investigate, they find themselves in the thick of a bloody battle as scandal, treason, and murder rule the day.
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reached Bernicia’s house and the young whore led her guest into the solar where Athelstan and Cranston had sat. The fire was built up, candles lit and wine served. The sailor took off his cloak and hood and sat basking in the warmth whilst Bernicia studied him discreetly, noting the good, high-heeled boots, leather jacket and white cambric shirt open at the neck. She touched her own belt where the silver piece was hidden and smiled secretively. ‘How much did Roffel tell you?’ the sailor asked
was taken from that vessel than a tun of wine and some papers?’ Cabe shook his head. ‘You are sure?’ Cabe raised his right hand. ‘I will take my oath upon it. As Peverill said, the whole business was suspicious. Roffel seemed as pleased as a pig in shit though the devil knows why.’ ‘Who here,’ Athelstan asked, ‘would have access to Roffel’s cabin? Or, to put it more bluntly, who had the opportunity to put arsenic into the flask he carried?’ ‘Only Bracklebury,’ Cabe replied. The captain was
Ships rode at anchor in the Thames, straining at their hawsers, their seamen resting and revelling in the city, leaving only skeleton crews on board to cry out the hours. But one ship, the big cog God’s Bright Light, was silent. The lantern high on its mast winked and blinked in the cold, grey light of dawn. The ship moved and creaked, floating gently to and fro on its anchor rope in the black, sluggish Thames. The cranes along St Paul’s Wharf opposite the ship were silent, the warehouse doors
Trumpington!’ Cranston whispered. Athelstan was on the point of dozing off again when he heard a movement, a mere slither on the tiles above. Cranston gripped his arm and hissed, ‘Blow out the candles! Don’t move!’ Athelstan stared up through the rafters at the tiles. Was it only a cat? he wondered. Then his stomach lurched as one of the tiles was removed. Another was prised loose, then another, so within minutes a square was opened, revealing the starlit sky. Athelstan saw the evening star and
have created some suspicions – after all, no sailor is eager to stay on board a ship back into port after a time at sea.’ Athelstan placed his tankard down. ‘Now, Bracklebury had Roffel’s corpse taken ashore. The whores came on board and then you and most of the crew left. However, you didn’t fully trust Bracklebury, so you insisted that he stayed in communication with you. You devised a system of signals between Bracklebury, with the lantern on board ship, and you, in some darkened recess on the