Satan in St Mary

some form of self-assurance. "Madam, " he said, "I am here to ask you a few questions. I am here on the King's commission!" He looked at the mocking laughter in her eyes and his voice trailed off into silence.
    Alice beckoned to a place near her on one of the benches which ran the length of the huge table. He sat, aware that Peter the giant was being silently dismissed back into the front room of the tavern. Corbett looked at the fine-grained table top. He felt shy and tongue-tied, wanting to gaze again into those wide dark eyes. He was drawn to this woman like a deer, hunted and thirsty, is drawn to a clear babbling spring of water. He heard the retreating giant's footsteps and looked up. Her eyes were not dark, he realized but a deep blue, surrounded by laughter lines.
    "Mistress Alice, " he blurted out. "What do you know about the death of Lawrence Duket?"
    Alice stared at him, lips pursed deep in thought. "What should I know, Master Clerk?" she replied. "I can guess you know that I knew both Duket and Crepyn. But I had nothing to do with the deaths of either man. "
    Corbett could feel the cool, calm superiority of the woman and decided to reassert himself in a mood of official brusqueness. After all, who was this woman but a tavern-keeper? "Mistress Bowe, " he snapped, "common report has it that you were Crepyn's mistress and that the fatal quarrel between him and Duket was caused by you. "
    Mistress Bowe simply stared at Corbett, then broke into peals of laughter which burst out like pearls cascading from a chest. "Master Corbett, I was Crepyn's friend but not his mistress and Duket certainly did not like me or any woman. "
    Her words jolted Corbett back to reality. He remembered similar words on the lips of Jean Duket. Alice, studiously watching him, seemed to sense his mood and the danger of this inquisitive man breaking free of the spell she had so cleverly spun. She placed one lace-framed hand on Corbett's wrist and only then did he notice that both her hands were covered in soft, fine, black silk gloves. She noticed his curiosity and laughed. "Master Corbett, do not be surprised. I am a lady and these gloves protect my hands. A lady's hands should be as soft and smooth as shot-silk. Should they not?"
    Corbett nodded. "Nevertheless Madam, " he replied without thinking, "like the truth they should be seen. " He could feel her hand on his as if it was a hot, glowing coal searing into his flesh. Suddenly, he felt afraid, like a swimmer out of his depth who wanted to give way to a strong current and be carried wherever it wished.
    He abruptly removed her hand. "Madam, do you know anything about the deaths of either man?"
    She bent her head and smoothed the polished top of the table with her gloved hands. "Of course I did, " she replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "Both men supped and drank here many times. I was friendly with both, lover to neither. "
    "Why did you say Duket was never attracted to women?" Corbett continued.
    She shrugged. "He was like that, " she replied. "He never complimented me, unlike other men, and I never saw him with a woman. "
    "Was he a sodomite?" Corbett asked.
    "No, Master Corbett. I think not. Why, are you?" The pert question angered him and he felt the blood surge from his heart and the heat enter his cheeks and eyes.
    "Madam, " he snapped. "You forget yourself!"
    "Sir, " she replied, her eyes now bright and brittle with temper. "You come into my house and suggest that I am a whore, the mistress of one man and the possible cause of the death of two. It is you, sir, who forget yourself!"
    Corbett rose, the bench falling behind him with a crash. "Madam, " he bowed and turned to go but she too rose, her eyes now pleading, a soft hand on his arm.
    "Master Clerk, " she said softly. "I am sorry!"
    Corbett turned to pick up the fallen bench, he stumbled, hit his back on the table and almost fell. He turned, face flushed, and noticed she was now stifling the laughter. He grinned, shuffled his feet, picked up the bench and sat down again. The giant, Peter, reappeared, drawn by the crash of the bench and the raised voices, but Alice dismissed him with a wave of her gloved hand and, touching Corbett lightly on the shoulder, moved to another part of the kitchen and brought back two brimming goblets of wine. "The best Bordeaux, " she said. "Please. Drink. I'm sorry I offended you. "
    Corbett toasted her with his cup and drank slowly. The wine was good, its sweetness filling his mouth and