'Brother, this is Kathryn Vestler.'

The friar turned. One glimpse of the widow woman's face and he felt a deep sense of unease. She was comely enough, her silver-grey hair hidden beneath a nun-like veil of dark green. A dress of the same colour was gathered by a white collar round her podgy neck. She possessed kindly grey eyes, a snub nose, a wide, generous mouth, but it was the almost tangible look of fear which caught his attention. He took her hand, soft, small and icy-cold.

'It was good of you to come, Brother and you, Sir Jack.' Kathryn Vestler dabbed at her eyes with a delicate kerchief sewn on to the cuff of her dress. 'I am so afeared! Alice Brokestreet had a nasty tongue and an evil mind.'

'She was in your employ?'

The woman closed her eyes. 'I do her an injustice, Brother. She was a good worker but she had her moods.'

Athelstan glanced behind her as a man came out of the shadows. He was tall, grey-haired, a white silken band around his throat. The shirt was of the whitest lawn while the dark-green leggings, tucked into soft polished boots, were of the purest wool. A fur-trimmed robe, slashed with red silk, hung round his shoulders. Athelstan recognised a lawyer from the Inns of Court. He was lean-faced, narrow-eyed, sallow-skinned with bloodless lips. A man who knows his rights, Athelstan reflected, a skilled adversary. He stood threading a silver chain through his fingers. Mistress Vestler caught Athelstan's gaze.

'Oh, this is Ralph Hengan, a lawyer and friend. He looks after my affairs.'

Apparently Sir John knew Hengan. He shook his hand and introduced Athelstan. The lawyer's severe face broke into a beaming smile. He firmly grasped Athelstan's hand.

'I apologise for being a lawyer, Brother. In the gospels we do not have the best reputation!'