Satan in St Mary

passionately and left the tavern for the sunlit street of Cheapside.
    Restless and ill-at-ease, he pushed his way through the crowds down past Cheapside and into Poultry to the house of his banker, the goldsmith. The front of the shop was down and the stall pulled out to display a fine range of products. Apprentices busied themselves about, taking privileged customers within to view more precious objects while others kept an eye on the not so privileged. The goldsmith was inside but came out when Corbett sent a message in with one of the apprentices. He looked troubled and evasive. "You want me, Master Corbett?"
    "Yes, and some information, Master Goldsmith. "
    Guisars looked round to see if anyone had heard Corbett before beckoning him into the shop. "What is it?" he whispered. "What do you want?"
    Corbett stared into the frightened man's eyes. "Duket? Crepyn?" The man's eyes fell away.
    "Crepyn, " he answered slowly, "was a well-known member of the Populares party. He kept the coffers of the party and often asked us for money. Protection money to safeguard our houses. Some paid, many did not. Duket may well have refused. "
    "But it was Crepyn who was murdered, " Corbett pointed out and the merchant looked at him.
    "Was it, Master Clerk?" he replied hoarsely. "Crepyn deserved what he got but Duket? Suicide?" he shook his head. "Never!" he said emphatically.
    "Is there more?" Corbett asked softly. The goldsmith again shook his head and pleaded with his eyes for the clerk to go.
    It was late by the time Corbett reached his lodgings to find that Ranulf had returned, exhausted, dirty and fast asleep on the floor wrapped in his cloak. Corbett let him sleep a little longer while he lay on his bed and thought about Alice's lovely, naked body, her long, black hair flowing round her like a veil. If only he could search out and lay to rest the anxiety in his heart. Corbett heard Ranulf stir, so he swung his legs off the bed and shook him awake.
    Ranulf yawned and woke, scratching his head as he peered at Corbett through puffy, sleep-laden eyes. "Master Clerk, " he yawned, stretched himself and shook himself fully awake. "Master Corbett, " he urged. "You must be careful. You must not go out by yourself as you did today!"
    Corbett looked at him. "Tell me why, Ranulf! Tell me now!"
    "Have you ever heard of the Pentangle?" Ranulf asked.
    "No, nothing, except the drawing you brought to me a day ago from Crepyn's house. Why?"
    "I know very little myself, " Ranulf replied, "except that it's a secret society here in London involved in the Black, er Black… "
    "Arts? Magic?" Corbett testily interrupted.
    "Yes, that's right. There's many here in London. Usually a few fools but this is different. Very secretive. Very powerful. They are led by someone called 'The Hooded One'!" Ranulf stared pityingly at Corbett.
    "Anyway, they are the ones who have marked you down. Those assassins who almost did for you the other evening. They were hired by this group. You were very lucky. It's because you not only escaped but killed one of them that has provoked a lot of interest in what you call the criminal frat…, criminal… "
    "Fraternity!" Corbett impatiently interrupted.
    "Yes, fr… fraternity. Anyway, they may well try again. "
    Ranulf looked quizzically at his master expecting to see fear, even terror and secretly marvelled at the man's composure. Ranulf had no illusions about what he would do in Corbett's place, a swift journey to the docks to buy an even swifter passage abroad.
    Corbett's equanimity, however, was only superficial. He was frightened, more than he had ever been in the thick of the fighting in Wales. Killers were stalking him here in London and they could strike at any time. He looked up at Ranulf. "And the other business?" he asked.
    "Much better, " Ranulf replied. "There are a number of places, usually outside the city limits. I found a few but one in particular where Duket himself went. He evidently liked young boys and his favourite works there. Should we go tonight?" Corbett shook his head.
    "No, go back to sleep, " he ordered wearily. He then extinguished the candle and rolled himself up in his robe like a fearful child, brooding on the nightmares around him.
    The next morning, exhausted after a restless night's sleep, Corbett gave Ranulf a message to be taken to Burnell and made the youth repeat it till he had learnt it by rote, before going down the stairs and into the street. Ranulf went first and Corbett was about