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blessed the corpse and got to his feet. The landlord, his face creased in mock sorrow, came out rubbing his hands, eyes rolling heavenwards.
    ‘Lord have mercy!’ he wailed. ‘Lord have mercy on us all! We’ll all be slain in our beds!’
    ‘Oh, shut up!’ Cranston growled. ‘Don’t worry, master taverner, the corpse will be removed. You’ll be back to coining your silver within the hour. Now, what has happened?’
    ‘I sent a runner to the Tower,’ the taverner gabbled. ‘Because he’s Luke Peslep, clerk in the Chancery of the Green Wax.’
    ‘You didn’t send the boy to the Tower,’ Meg scoffed.
    ‘For God’s sake, gather your wits,’ Havant snapped. ‘You sent the boy to the Chancery Office off Fleet Street. I was there when he arrived.’
    The landlord fluttered his fingers; he took a dirty rag from his greasy apron and mopped his face. ‘Oh Lord, have mercy, Lord, have mercy! You are right, you are right! I kept thinking we should go to the Tower, maybe the French had landed.’
    Cranston grasped the man’s shoulder and squeezed it. ‘Good friend,’ he said. ‘A royal clerk has been murdered and you are bleating like a lamb.’
    ‘I didn’t see anything,’ the landlord whined.
    ‘Too busy watching the customers,’ Meg hinted.
    Athelstan beckoned her over and slipped a penny into her callused hand. ‘What did you see, girl?’
    She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘As normal, Peslep came in here to break his fast. As normal, he squeezed my tits and sat like a prince stuffing his face and then, as normal, he went out into the jakes to relieve himself.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone leave after him. Simon, the ironmaster, went out, bladder full of ale he had. We hears him screaming. The rest you know’
    ‘Did you see anyone in the tavern this morning? A stranger?’
    The girl closed her eyes and screwed up her face. ‘We had some beggars,’ she replied. ‘Oh yes, and a young man.’ She opened one eye and pointed at Havant. ‘He was dressed like you. In good clothes. He carried a war belt, long leather riding boots with spurs on.’
    Havant smiled bleakly. ‘But it wasn’t me?’
    ‘Oh no, sir,’ she replied coyly. ‘You are much more handsome than he.’
    ‘So you saw his face?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘He was clean-shaven,’ Meg responded. ‘But no, Father, I really didn’t have a good look. I was too busy.’
    Cranston, who had been swaying on his feet, eyes half-closed, smacked his lips noisily. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he declared. ‘Master taverner,’ he took the coins Athelstan had handed over from Peslep’s purse, ‘have the body removed.’
    ‘Where to?’
    ‘Your parish church,’ Cranston retorted, grasping the man’s wrist and squeezing it. ‘Tell the priest there that Sir John Cranston sent it for burial.’
    The landlord, followed by Meg, strode away.
    ‘Why were you at the Chancery Office?’ Cranston asked.
    Havant shrugged. ‘The Regent’s orders, Sir John. I was to tell them about Chapler’s corpse being discovered.’
    And?’
    ‘They were upset, sad, then the boy arrived from the tavern.’ Havant looked up at the blue sky. ‘Sir John, I must be going.’ He smiled at Athelstan, spun on his heel and walked back into the taproom.
    Cranston sat down on a wooden bench and stared glumly at the corpse whilst Athelstan inspected the yard.
    ‘You won’t find anything,’ the coroner moaned. ‘This one came like a thief in the night.’
    Athelstan went to the back of the privies and opened a small wicket gate which led into a mean alleyway. He looked up and down: at the far end a group of children played with a pet toad watched by a mangy cat; at the other, an empty gap between huddled houses led out into a street. Athelstan closed the wicket gate, returned and sat down beside Sir John.
    ‘Too many killings,’ the coroner murmured. He rubbed his face. ‘Brother Athelstan, I need refreshments.’ He