'You were saying about the young man?' Bladdersniff asked.

He looked longingly over his shoulder at the alleyway. The beadle wanted to head like an arrow direct to the Piebald and down as many blackjacks of ale as his belly could take.

'I believe,' Athelstan continued, 'the assassin attacked this young man in that deserted house. He knocked him on the head, cut his throat and was busy stripping him of any identification when he was surprised by these two. The young woman was a whore, the other man was one of her customers. God forgive them, they both died in their sins.' He got to his feet, fished in his purse and thrust a coin into Bladdersniff's hands. 'The labourer is worthy of his hire, master bailiff. The bodies will stay here for twenty-four hours, yes?'

Bladdersniff nodded.

'Watkin! Pike!'

The ditcher wandered back.

'You will take turns guarding the corpse. Hig the pigman, Mugwort the bell clerk, can all stand vigil!' He thrust another silver piece into Bladdersniff's hand. 'Each man of the parish who stands guard will be bought two quarts of ale by our venerable bailiff.'

Bladdersniff's red, chapped face glowed with pleasure. He blinked his bleary, water-filled eyes.

'Why, Brother, that's very generous of you.'

'On one condition,' Athelstan added sharply. 'When you stand guard you are sober. Now, Bladdersniff, show me where the corpses were found.'

'I'll come with you,' Benedicta offered. She rose unsteadily to her feet.

'I'd love your company.' Athelstan smiled, grasping her fingers and rubbing them between his. 'But, if you could clear the shriving pew, put my stole back, feed Bonaventure. Oh, and Philomel will need more oats,' he added, referring to his old war horse who spent most of his life eating or sleeping.

'Heaven forfend!'

Athelstan turned as Godbless the beggarman, with little Thaddeus the goat in tow, came out of the cemetery rubbing his eyes.