Satan in St Mary

executors, then the professional thieves who always mark down such buildings for investigation! Duket's had nothing, absolutely nothing and I only found this in Crepyn's house."
    Ranulf brought from his wallet a tattered, yellow piece of parchment and handed it to Corbett, who studied it carefully. The drawing was quite clear, a simple, crudely devised pentangle under an arch with a date, as one would find on the end of a letter, "30 April 1283". Almost a year ago. Corbett threw the piece of parchment behind him. "Is that all?"
    "That is all!" Ranulf glared at him. "I risked my neck going into both houses. For what? A dirty piece of parchment which you immediately toss away!"
    Corbett smiled. "No, I am grateful. Look, " he handed the youth a few coins. "I want you to get something to eat and, at the same time, find out something for me. " He raised his hand to quell the expected objection from Ranulf. "It is not as dangerous as the last but more important. You say you know the underworld?" He saw the look of perplexity in Ranulf's face, "The criminals of this city, " he explained.
    Ranulf nodded, warily watching this strange clerk. "Good, " Corbet continued: "Then I would like you to find out two things. First, a few evenings ago two murderers, professional assassins tried to kill me a few yards from this house. They were not 'roaring boys' or gutter bullies but, as I have said, skilled assassins specially hired. I would like you to find out who hired them and why? Secondly, my young friend, if I was attracted, " he glared at Ranulf, "and I am definitely not, but if I was attracted to young men and boys, where would I go to in this city?"
    Corbett watched with quiet amusement the scared look on Ranulf's face. "Do not worry, " Corbett said softly. "I am not that way inclined and, even if I was, you would have no cause to worry!"
    "I am not worried, " Ranulf was almost shouting. "I'm frightened. What will happen to me if I'm caught in such a place? If the church does not burn me, my friends might and I do not want to become the laughing-stock in every alleyway in the city!" He glared fiercely at Corbett, who smiled sweetly back.
    "Ranulf, I have every confidence in you. " He looked towards the door. "Now you had better go!"
    The young man pulled a face, rose and clumped towards the door.
    "Oh, Ranulf, " Corbett asked. "What did you do when you broke into a house? Go barefoot?"
    The reformed housebreaker grinned. "You are dull in some things, " he replied. "We wore mufflers. Rags tied round our boots. Everyone knows that!"
    "Except me, " Corbet smiled. "Well, you had better go!" Ranulf went carefully down the stairs, cursing and muttering but secretly wondering at the strange habits of Master Corbett. Behind him he could hear the faint notes of the flute, soft and sad, telling of dreams gone, lost or shattered.
    Twelve
    Ranulf did not return that day nor the next morning when Corbett, washed, barbered and dressed in his best robes left to see Alice at The Mitre. Corbett thought and dreaded that she might not be there, but she was, fresh as a May morning in a dark blue dress, with a copper chain slung low round her narrow waist and a simple gold necklace round her throat. Her hair was as soft as silk and he smelt the perfume as she flung her arms round his neck, her body soft and sinuous against him. He was relieved to see that the burly threatening Peter was not about and would have taken her directly upstairs but she protested most demurely, saying that she was busy, it was not the right time. So he accepted her excuses and sat in the kitchen while she served him wine and sweetmeats, chattering all the time, fending off his eager hands and parrying his questions. Instead, she asked how his investigations were going and laughed when he grimaced, digging his face deep into the winecup. "I hear you have a bodyguard?" she pouted. "Should I be jealous?"
    Corbett stared at her and then laughed. "No, he is just a boy, " he replied. "A messenger, a carrier of goods. " Alice smiled and passed on to other matters. Corbett watched, aching for want of her as she busied herself about the kitchen in everyday chores. He sensed, for all her happiness, a tension as if her gaiety was forced. He was also puzzled, troubled by something she had said or left unsaid, but could not decide what it was. At length, he decided to leave; Alice was evidently too busy and he began to feel that he was impeding her. So he rose, embraced her