Prince of Darkness

grass.
    'What did Dame Catherine want?' he demanded. 'You didn't tell her about the collar?'
    'She came to wish us a safe journey,' Ranulf replied sarcastically. 'And, no, we did not tell her about the dog collar. Or,' he added mischievously, 'the gems you stole from it!'
    They must have walked for about another ten minutes and could glimpse the blue wood-smoke rising above the trees from Godstowe village when suddenly the porter stopped, turned left, and led them along a narrow beaten trackway into the forest. Ranulf shivered. He always felt uncomfortable amongst this dark silent wood, the strange shadows, the bursts of sudden sunlight and constant chatter and rustle of unseen birds and animals.
    'I'd prefer a darkened alleyway in Southwark,' he muttered
    'Each to his own,' Corbett replied.
    They followed the porter along the serpentine path, then suddenly they were through the trees and into a glade ringed by clumps of trees, silent except for the gurgle of a small brook as it splashed down some rocks which thrust up out of the ground like the finger of a buried giant.
    'Be careful,' the porter murmured. He pointed to the near side of the small brook where the grass seemed darker, longer, and lush. 'Watch!' he insisted, and picking up a fallen bough, threw it into the midst of this dark greenness. Ranulf swallowed nervously as the bough hit the ground. There was a sucking noise, a small pool of water formed, and the branch sank without trace. 'A marsh,' the porter explained. 'There are a number in the forest.' He grinned with a display of broken teeth. 'Only fools would wander in here.'
    'Where were the bodies found?'
    'Well,' the fellow scratched his head, 'from what I gather, they had been rolled into the marsh but hadn't sunk. Two lovers from the village, looking for a quiet spot, found them and sent for help. We pulled them out.'
    'How were they?'
    'Well, that's the mystery,' the porter replied. I heard about their discovery and hurried down from the priory. I was there when the bailiffs arrived. The bodies were naked as they were born, not a scrap of clothing, jewellery or any possessions. Yet their faces…' The man shook his head. 'A mottled black and white, their throats cut from ear to ear.'
    'And no one claimed the bodies?' 'No.'
    'And you expected no such visitors to the priory?' 'No.'
    'Then how did you find the dog?'
    The porter moved restlessly from one foot to another. 'Well, I was truly puzzled, so two days later I came back. I know the forest well. I thought there might be something worth finding.' He pointed over to the ring of trees. 'There, under the bracken, I glimpsed the dog. At first I thought it was a dead rabbit. I went over to look and knew it was a lap dog.'
    'You didn't kill it?' Ranulf snapped.
    'God be my witness, sir, I didn't!' The porter licked his lips nervously. 'The corpses must have been in the marsh for days, even weeks. The dog must have run away and, being such a pampered animal, crawled back and pined to death for its mistress. I took the collar off, removed the stones, put the rest in the sack and took it to the gibbet The rest you know.' He glared again at Ranulf and looked down at his boots.
    'Are there outlaws here?' Corbett asked.
    The porter made a face. 'No, Master Clerk. That's what puzzled me and the other villagers. Oh, there's a few wild lads who do some poaching. But tell me,' he asked, defiantly repeating taproom gossip, 'what outlaw worth his brain would hide in a forest with a royal palace at one end and a priory full of powerful ladies at the other? Not to mention the village and the other farms. There are deeper woods than this for a wolfshead to hide in.'
    Corbett stared round the eerie, silent glade. 'If only the leaves of these trees,' he murmured, 'could turn to tongues, what story would they tell?'
    Ranulf just shivered.
    'A place to rest,' Corbett muttered. 'But perhaps not a place to die.'
    I don't know,' Ranulf replied, his face growing paler. 'I once knew a sailor, an old man from Gravesend. He said that on one of his voyages, he passed a floating island thronged with demonic blacksmiths who forged and hammered the evil souls of assassins!' Ranulf shook his head. 'I think this place is more suited for that than any island.' He stared at Corbett. I don't like it, Master. It stinks of death!'
    'Then, Master Porter,' Corbett announced, 'it's best we leave.'
    They walked back to the forest track where Corbett dismissed the porter. Then he and a calmer