'And did Mistress Vestler encourage this?' Athelstan asked.

'She was welcoming enough,' the ale-master replied. 'But she often scolded Margot for wasting time. She was kind enough to Bartholomew because he paid well and brought other clerks here.'

Sir John sat down on a bench, Athelstan beside him. The friar touched his chancery bag but he was too tense, too anxious to write; he would remember all this later on when he returned to St Erconwald's.

'And what happened to Bartholomew and Margot?'

'You know, my lord,' one of the potboys piped up.

'No lad, I don't, remind me,' Sir John asked sweetly.

'About three months ago we'd all been out to the midsummer fair. Margot and Bartholomew disappeared soon afterwards. Officers came from the Tower to enquire about the whereabouts of Bartholomew but we couldn't help them.'

'And Margot disappeared at the same time?'

'Of course.' The boy rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. 'Gone like a river mist they were.'

'And what did Mistress Vestler say?'

'She thought they had eloped.'

'Aye that's right,' a maid intervened. 'But the officer from the Tower, a tall beanpole of a man, he said that couldn't be true, Master Bartholomew had not taken any of his property with him.'

'You are sure of that?' Athelstan asked.

'Yes and we thought it strange because, just after they disappeared, Mistress Vestler said she had kept Margot's belongings long enough. Nothing much, just a gown, a cloak, some trifles. She was in a fair temper. She burned them on the midden-heap in the yard.'

'Why did she do that?' Athelstan asked.

'Mistress Vestler said her tavern had enough clutter. Margot was not coming back and she wouldn't get a price for any of the goods.' The maid shrugged.

'Did you notice anything else untoward?' Athelstan asked. 'About their disappearance?'