'Benedicta, you deal with him! Bladdersniff.' Athelstan grasped the beadle by the arm. 'If we stay here much longer we'll have the entire parish around us.'

He marched Bladdersniff across the open space and along the alleyway leading down to the main thoroughfare. Although he was of short stature, Athelstan moved briskly, keeping his eye on the water-filled sewer down the centre while trying to avoid the gaze of many of his parishioners.

'God bless you Brother!' a girlish voice shouted.

Cecily the courtesan was standing in the entrance to the Piebald tavern. Athelstan glared at her. She had her arm round Ronald, elder son of Ranulf the rat-catcher. On a bench beside her, Ursula the pig woman was sharing a tankard of ale with her big, fat sow. The pig snorted with pleasure. Athelstan bared his teeth at this great plunderer of his vegetable patch. Tab the tinker, Huddle the painter, Manger the hangman and Moleskin the boatman stood further down the thoroughfare grouped round Tab's stall.

'Is anything wrong?' Huddle called, flicking his long hair back.

Athelstan stopped. 'I need your help at the church,' he said sweetly. 'Go back there. Watkin will tell you everything. There's a quart of ale for each of you.' He held up a warning hand so Bladdersniff wouldn't add any gory details. 'For all who help.'

The whole group set off like greyhounds from the slips, eager to see what work would earn such a bountiful reward

Athelstan pressed on. It was now early afternoon and the denizens of Southwark were out looking for mischief: pickpockets, foists, those shadowy inhabitants of the underworld eager for petty profit before darkness fell. Some avoided his eye; others raised their hands in salutation or shouted abuse about Bladdersniff and his fiery red nose.

At last they entered an alleyway which led down to the fields. They crossed the narrow wooden bridge which spanned the brook and went up the great meadow to the brow of the hill where the ruins of Simon the miser's house stood gaunt and open to the sky. Some children played at the far end of the meadow. A woman sat there keeping them busy plaiting garlands of grass. Athelstan raised his hand in benediction.