Angel of Death

Montfort, yet they live but he died. Am I not correct?'
    Corbett nodded, watching the eyes intently.
    'But they have not told you. Ask them.'
    'Ask them what?'
    'Ask them how many times de Montfort drank from the cup. Remind them of their Canon Law. Before a chalice is given as a symbol of peace, the celebrant always drinks a second time. The first time he drinks at the communion, the second time as the symbol of the kiss of peace. Why not ask them?'
    Corbett twisted round and looked up at the canons. They had no need to answer, it was written in all of their faces.
    'Sir priests,' he called out. 'It would be best if you waited for me. Perhaps in the sacristy.'
    This time they went as dutifully and meekly as lambs.
    Corbett moved closer to the anchorite's gap.
    'Tell me, man of God, what did you see? Is there anything else I should know? What happened when de Montfort collapsed?'
    All he received in reply was a quiet chuckle.
    'Tell me,' Corbett insisted.
    'I saw nothing,' the anchorite replied slowly. 'When de Montfort fell, so did I, on my knees here in my cell, to pray God would have mercy on his sinful soul. That is all the help I can give. Except one thing. Take care, Master Clerk. These canons wish you dead.'

11
    Corbett, feeling angry and secretly alarmed, mumbled his thanks to the anchorite and strode back into the sacristy. The canons stood there like boys caught in some mischief. None of them would meet his eye.
    'So,' Corbett began, 'we have a little mystery here.' He felt beneath his cloak, drew out his sword and held it up by the cross-hilt. 'I swear,' he said, 'unless you tell me the truth, now, about what you saw, felt or heard on that altar when de Montfort died, I swear by Christ's cross, I will see you all in the Tower by sunset!' He glared at each of them, sheathed his sword and leant against the corner of the table, arms folded. Plumpton came forward, licking his lips nervously.
    'The anchorite spoke the truth,' he began. 'He must have seen it. One thing an anchorite always demands is a clear view of the altar, in order to see the cross as well as reverence the elevated host and chalice. De Montfort did drink twice from the chalice. You will find that in Canon Law he must.' He looked towards Ettrick. 'De Montfort in fact forgot. It was Sir David here who came across and reminded him.'
    'Is that right, Ettrick?' Corbett snapped. The Scotsman nodded.
    'I saw the chalice come back. De Montfort was about to turn to take it down the sanctuary steps. I went across and whispered in his ear. To an onlooker it would appear I was helping him in the rite. He raised the chalice, drank from it, the rest you know.'
    'Do I?' Corbett said sharply. 'Is there anything else I should know?' No one answered. 'Is there anything else I should know?' he repeated. There was silence.
    Corbett looked at Plumpton.
    'Well, Sir Philip, there are a few more questions I would like to ask but, before I do that, I would like to remind you, Sir John,' he turned to the librarian, 'that you were the last person to hold the chalice before de Montfort drank from it.'
    Sir John's face was a mask of tragedy. 'But that is not fair,' he spluttered. 'That is not fair. Your words are barbs.'
    'Once I have solved the mystery,' Corbett replied, 'then these questions will stop. But, Sir Philip, you said de Montfort, like you all, kept the precious plate with which he used to celebrate mass here in the sacristy.'
    Plumpton nodded.
    'I would like to see it.'
    Sir Philip took a bunch of keys from his belt and went to a chest in the far corner. It was made of leather and wood, bound by strips of iron and secured by four locks. Each needed a separate key. Once all the locks had been unclasped, Plumpton pulled back the lid and Corbett had to stifle his cry of astonishment at the gorgeous plate stored there, a treasure hoard even the king would have envied. Jewelled monstrances, golden patens, silver dishes, at least a dozen precious cups. Some were in pouches of red Spanish leather, others in boxes, but most just lay where they had been carelessly tossed. The inside of the trunk was lined with thick samite.
    Sir Philip moved the cups around carefully before pulling one out. Corbett recognized the chalice he had held the morning de Montfort had died. Plumpton brought it across to Corbett. A beautiful piece of craftmanship, Corbett thought it must be at least a hundred years old. The cup was of pure gold, the stem and base of thick silver encrusted