Prince of Darkness

by Gaveston's dogs. I am correct, am I not?'
    The young woman pursed her lips and, for a few brief seconds, smiled sweetly, reminding Corbett of the pious, beautiful, young nun he once knew.
    'How did I know?' she asked. 'Who lands at Dover and takes the road to Oxford?'
    'Oh, I'll answer all that in due course. But for the rest? Well, you managed to persuade the young lady to leave the Godstowe road for a spot you had previously chosen. Perhaps take a noonday rest and sip some wine. She and her page boy probably dozed. Indeed,' Corbett stirred, staring behind the nun into the mist, 'they may have slept more deeply than they ever intended. The wine you proffered was probably drugged. Once asleep they were easy victims. You slit both their throats, stripped the corpses, changed your own robes and took Deveril's name as well as the letters of introduction. Your only mistake was mat the small lap dog Deveril carried was either overlooked or ran away. The woman's belongings you kept for yourself. The rest, including your own clothes, now lie at the bottom of some deep, evil-smelling swamp. The horses?' Corbett shrugged. 'Naturally, you kept one, that and a sumpter pony. The other two were turned loose. A nice gift for some peasant farmer who would keep his mouth firmly shut Then you come to Godstowe, armed with letters proclaiming you to be Deveril You take your vows, you are personable, you ingratiate yourself both with Lady Amelia and Lady Eleanor. And who would suspect you?'
    Agatha de Courcy nodded.
    'Very good!' she murmured. 'Very good indeed!'
    'The only person who did catch a glimmer of the truth was poor Dame Frances. You see, I found the collar of the lap dog and it still bore the Deveril's family motto: "Noli me tangere". Dame Frances, of course, remembered. She must have seen it on some of the murdered woman's belongings when you first entered the priory but she probably could not place it immediately. And who would she tell? None other but the ever patient, attentive Dame Agatha -so Dame Frances too had to die. A staid nun, with a set routine and customs; you would remember from your few weeks in the novitiate how careful Dame Frances was to douse the fire with water. She always insisted on doing it herself and that made it easy for you. Only the night she died, the bucket she used was full of oil, not water.' Corbett secretly marvelled at the cool composure of his opponent. 'The fire exploded, spilling out on to the hearth, licking at the few drops on the floor, and in seconds Dame Frances was a blazing torch and your secret was safe.'
    Agatha joined her hands together, raising her fingers to her lips as if she was a teacher teasing a rather clever pupil.
    'Master Corbett, you've told me how I am supposed to have killed this woman, but not the reason why.'
    'Don't play games!' Corbett snapped. 'You know the reason. De Montfort was a rebel against the King, a Deveril was one of his generals. According to the records, after de Montfort's defeat, the Deveril line died out so the woman was probably the offspring of some illegitimate issue who fled to Gascony where she was raised to hate Edward of England.'
    'And the King would allow a Deveril back into the country?'
    'Only if she changed her name. As I have said, I suspect she was an orphan and, using a false name, wrote to Lady Amelia asking permission to join the Nuns of Syon and offering to pay the usual dowry fee. When her request was granted, she sought licence to enter England.' Corbett stared at Agatha. 'Oh, come, what name did she use?'
    Agatha gazed coolly back.
    'Let me try another tack,' Corbett continued. 'By what name were you called when you entered Godstowe Priory?'
    Agatha giggled as if Corbett had posed some riddle.
    I took the religious name of Agatha, really my own, but if you ask the Lady Prioress, she will tell you I entered these walls as Marie Savigny.'
    Corbett sighed.
    'So it was Marie Savigny you killed in the forest outside Godstowe?'
    Agatha chewed on her lip.
    'Let us say you are correct, Corbett. How would I know this Marie Savigny was secretly a member of the de Montfort coven, who wanted to come to England to plot mischief, perhaps even murder? And how would I learn when she would come and what route she would take?'
    'You know full well! The King himself told you. You're his assassin.'
    'If Deveril changed her name, why did she carry the motto of her family with her?' Corbett shrugged.
    'Few would recognise it as belonging to a