Angel of Death

visitor is saying. A dreadful crime,' he continued seriously, 'was committed. One of our brethren was murdered during the sacrifice of the mass, poisoned, if you are to believe Master Corbett. He has nothing to gain from this yet he implies the person who plotted de Montfort's death also plotted that of our king. These are, brethren, most serious and dreadful crimes.'
    Corbett was grateful for de Luce's intervention, though he disliked intensely his calm demeanour, as if he was soothing children and included Corbett amongst them. There was a pause in the proceedings; Ettrick rose and went to a small table in the far corner bearing a tray and a jug of wine with cups. He filled these, placed one down near Corbett and gave the rest to each of his colleagues, totally ignoring the outraged expressions of Hervey and Ranulf. A dish of sweetmeats was also distributed. Corbett noticed with wry amusement how no one dared raise a cup or eat a sweetmeat. Ettrick sat down but, observing the silence around him, smiled, shrugged, got up again and came to where Corbett sat. He lifted the cup, toasted him and sipped carefully from it.
    'Master Clerk, you may rest assured,' he said, 'that your wine is the best Bordeaux and contains no poison.' The half jest helped to relieve the tension. Corbett smiled, picked up the cup and drank, relishing the full-bodied taste. He passed the cup to Ranulf, indicating with his finger that the sweetmeat placed beside him was also his.
    'Let us accept,' Corbett began, 'that de Montfort was murdered. Let us also accept that somebody close to him, who works in this cathedral, wanted him dead. How did they do this? And why?' Corbett narrowed his eyes. 'Why should they go to the trouble of poisoning wine after de Montfort was dead? For I am sure that's when the wine the king sent to de Montfort was poisoned. What did the assassin really intend? Who had grudges against de Montfort?'
    This brought almost a giggle from de Eveden. Corbett turned.
    'You find that amusing, Sir?'
    'I find it amusing, Sir,' the librarian retorted sarcastically. 'You asked who had a grudge against de Montfort. I ask you, Sir Clerk, who did not?'
    'What my brother is saying,' Plumpton interrupted, 'is that Master de Montfort was a powerful man, a lonely one; he was very disliked.'
    'For what reason?'
    Plumpton shrugged. 'He was vindictive, secretive. He never forgave a grudge. He always settled every grievance.' Plumpton looked around, wide-eyed. 'Why not let's tell the truth. Each of us here had a grievance.'
    'That is not true!' Blaskett shouted back.
    'You wouldn't have said that,' Plumpton added maliciously, 'if de Montfort had got into your bed!'
    The young secretarius tried to stammer some reply but Corbett raised his hand to quell the argument.
    'It will not serve,' he said, 'for us to argue. I take your point, Sir Philip. I have already gathered that Sir Walter was indeed a strange man and would have had many questions to answer. Perhaps it is best if I interview you each separately.' His invitation was greeted with a murmur of approval. 'Perhaps,' Corbett continued, 'I should begin with Sir John.'
    The librarian bowed his assent and Corbett waited while the rest withdrew.

9
    'Master de Eveden,' Corbett began. 'I am here on the king's business. Tell me, did you hate de Montfort?'
    De Eveden paused before answering. 'Yes, I think I did.'
    'Why?'
    'He was arrogant.' 'In what matters?'
    'In all matters,' the priest snapped. 'He exercised his authority. He liked to display his knowledge. He came constantly to the library demanding to know which manuscripts we held, where they were stored, how they were cared for.' De Eveden paused as if searching for words. 'There was something about the man. Something secretive, hypocritical.'
    'You believe he was a hypocrite?'
    De Eveden looked squarely at Corbett. 'Yes, I did.'
    'Why do you say that?'
    'At times, at night he went out by himself. No one knew where.'
    'Was he the only priest who went out at night?' Corbett asked.
    'No, he had visitors here. Oh, he kept them well away from us. There was a woman, whom he often met in the church. They would stand in the nave talking. It was always after vespers, when the place was deserted.'
    Corbett thought of the woman he had seen on the day of de Montfort's death.
    'Do you know who she is?'
    'No. She was always richly caparisoned like some fat palfrey, silks and velvets. You could smell the stench of her perfume from the choir stalls.'
    'You