'Of course,' Sir John trumpeted, his good humour returning. 'Stephen, her late husband, was a bit of a noddle-pate. He maintained that, if Kathryn died before him, he'd journey east and join the Hospitallers in their struggle against the Turks.'

'The will is very short and terse,' Hengan confirmed. 'And cannot be denied. I even tease Mistress

Vestler that she hasn't left one penny to me.'

Athelstan looked at him sharply.

'A jest, Brother. I have sufficient riches.'

'She is a widow woman,' Athelstan pointed out. 'Comely and wealthy. Surely she had suitors? After all, Master Ralph, you are a lusty bachelor yourself.'

Hengan put his tankard down. 'Oh, suitors came and went: adventurers, profiteers, Kathryn would have none of them. There's a chamber in the tavern, Brother, used by her late husband, Stephen. She has turned it into a shrine to her husband's memory with his writing-desk, his sword, his shield and armour, the pennant he carried at Poitiers. Mistress Vestler is a comfortable woman, happy in what she does. She has vowed never to remarry.' He held the tankard up in a mock toast. 'And, as for me, Brother.' He sighed. 'I speak in confidence?'

'Of course, Master Ralph.'

'I am a man, Brother, how can I put it? The company of women is pleasing enough.' His kindly grey eyes held Athelstan's. 'But I have no desire to bed one.'

'And what will happen now?' Athelstan persisted. 'If Mistress Vestler is found guilty and sentenced? Because, in this secret place, Master Ralph, I speak the truth, unpalatable though it be. If the jury find her guilty there'll be no pardon for what she has done.'