Angel of Death

properties in Essex.'
    The Clerk nodded.
    Corbett turned back to the ring of hostile faces. 'Sir Philip, you have a servant?' Plumpton nodded. 'Did de Montfort?'
    'It is strange you ask that,' John de Eveden, the librarian broke in. 'He was such a secretive man. He had servitors in the cathedral to attend to his every wish but not one body servant, not like the rest of us.'
    Corbett nodded, that would fit de Montfort's character. A man who had a very private life, surrounded by rumour and scandal, would never entrust his reputation to the gossip of a body servant.
    'Why do you ask?' Ettrick demanded, his voice rising. 'Why do you ask such a question? Talk to us. We are intelligent men, Master Corbett. We can give intelligent answers to intelligent questions.'
    'I am not demeaning your intelligence,' Corbett said firmly. 'But I would like to interview all those servants who had the right to come in and out of the chapter-house, as well as into the cathedral, without notice being raised.'
    This was quickly agreed. The canons gave Blaskett the task of calling and organizing the servants. Corbett dismissed Hervey, sending him back to Westminster, though he kept the clerk's notes. After that, Corbett and Ranulf spent the rest of the morning sitting in the chapter-house, interviewing at least a dozen servitors, male and female. The women – laundresses and cleaners he dismissed immediately – for they would have no right to go into the sacristy or any of the canons' chambers. The men were mainly those who had fought in the king's wars, veterans who had been given a post in the cathedral as a reward for services. Old, rheumy-eyed and garrulous, some displayed the most horrific scars and wounds. Corbett dealt with them quickly, asking two questions: first, did they carry any wine down to the vestry room on the morning de Montfort died? The answer was always no. The second, did they go into the sacristy or vestry after de Montfort's death? Again, the answer was no. They had seen nothing untoward. Corbett pronounced himself satisfied. The bells began to ring for the midday service of nones and the canons began to file back into the choir to sing divine office. Corbett and Ranulf decided to leave. Plumpton hurried up to them, effusive in his warmth.
    'Master Corbett, Master Corbett.'
    'Yes, Sir Philip?'
    'Perhaps you would like to see de Montfort's chamber?' Corbett shrugged. 'Of course.'
    He was led up a stone spiral staircase to the floor above the chapter-house, a long, white-washed passage broken up by shiny, lozenge-shaped wooden doors.
    'Each of these,' Philip said with some pride, 'belongs to one of the canons. De Montfort's is here.' He turned to his immediate left and, after searching for a key on the massive iron ring which swung from his belt, he opened the door and they entered.
    The room was opulent, luxurious. Two oval-shaped windows were made of pure glass, one of them stained, depicting a scene from the Bible. Corbett thought it was Jonah being delivered from the whale. The huge, four poster bed was covered with an ermine, gold-fringed coverlet. The heavy blue curtains which usually cordoned it off were pulled back to display red and white bolsters. A silver crucifix hung on the wall. Beside the bed was a small table with a two-branched silver candelabra; a huge chest lay against the far wall under the windows with another at the foot of the bed. A peg was fitted into the wall for cloaks and other garments.
    Corbett turned. 'May I?' Without waiting for an answer, he lifted up the lid of the trunk at the end of the bed, noting how the lock had been broken. Inside there was nothing much: bits and pieces, belts, buckles, a pair of Spanish soft riding boots. Corbett noted two books; one a Bible, the other containing the divine office.
    'We broke the lock,' Plumpton said, 'to ensure there was nothing precious, nothing of interest.'
    Corbett nodded and walked across to the larger trunk. This, too, had had its lock broken. He raised the lid and, despite the murmur of protest from Plumpton, went through the layers of clothing in it, but there was nothing. He closed it and stared once more round the room.
    'Master de Montfort liked his comforts?'
    'Yes, he did,' Plumpton replied. 'But I assure you, Master Clerk, we have been through this room. There is nothing here that would interest you.'
    'Why did you go through it?' Corbett snapped.
    Plumpton shrugged. 'De Montfort died; we had to make an inventory of his