Satan in St Mary

purged of these vermin and safely returned to its loyalty to our Lord the King Consequently, I urge you to return here with all possible speed God save you. Written at Westminster – June 1284. "
    Corbett heaved a sigh of relief. So, Alice had escaped. He agreed with Burnell, he wanted to return and immediately ordered a disgruntled Ranulf to pack their belongings. Corbett took leave of the King and that same day they were on the road south. It was strange to be free of the bustle and noise, riding through the summer countryside. However, Corbett felt his anxieties and fears crowding in on him again, a feeling of deep panic which made him ride faster, making Ranulf forget his grumbles about leaving the new-found luxuries of the Court.
    It only took them a few days to reach the outskirts of London. Corbett decided to leave Ranulf and the horses at a riverside inn while he hired a skiff to take him to Westminster. He arrived there about noon on the fourth day after he left Woodstock and, as he walked through the Great Hall, sensed danger and excitement. It was always the same after a crisis, Corbett reasoned. Warrants had to be issued; letters drawn up, judgments recorded, recognizances and testimonies witnessed and sealed. All meant an increase in the work load for the clerks who caught some of the fear, tension and excitement from the documents they handled. Corbett tried to ignore any salutations or attempts to drawn him into conversation. He wanted to see Burnell immediately, not be drawn into desultory chatter. He did note that certain of the senior clerks looked at him strangely, their eyes slipping away when he stared back.
    Burnell was in his chambers but Corbett was told to wait and had to stand around for hours until the Chancellor sent for him late that afternoon. He found Burnell, still swathed in robes, almost immersed in a sea of documents which lay curled, spread and heaped across the great table. The Chancellor stared as Corbett came into the room, his dark hooded eyes carefully scrutinizing the clerk before he waved him to a stool and poured him a goblet of heavy red Gascon wine. Corbett sat down and sipped the wine, waiting for Burnell, who sat, gazing closely into his own cup, to begin.
    "Master Hugh, " Burnell said, putting his cup down. "The work that you did was good, very good. That nest of traitors has been netted, some were tortured and so many more have been hanged. A few, " he smiled evilly at Corbett, "will be hanged by the purse. Huge benevolences. Loans to guarantee their future good behaviour. Your part in this will never be forgotten. Oh, " Burnell added, almost as an afterthought. "Master Hubert Seagrave. Do you know his whereabouts?"
    "Seagrave, " Corbett flatly replied, "was a traitor and I have executed him. He was giving information to the highest bidder. He deserved to die!"
    The Chancellor was going to speak but stopped and shuffled amongst the papers on his desk. "There was the woman, " Burnell said slowly. "Alice atte Bowe, her maiden name was Fitz-Osbert. She was arrested on the Dover road by a mounted patrol and brought back to the city. "
    "And, " Corbett heard his voice interject like ice snapping, a sound from far away.
    "And what?" Burnell asked.
    "The woman!" Corbett exclaimed. He could feel his heart pounding like the hooves of a charging horse. "The woman! What happened to her?" he cried.
    "Oh, " Burnell replied, not raising his eyes. "She was not tortured. She confessed all and then cursed us just as clearly. She was brought here before King's Bench and accused of treason, murder and witchcraft. Alice atte Bowe was found guilty and burnt at Smithfield for her crimes!"
    The Chancellor's voice trailed off as Corbett sat, white-faced, his nightmares realized. He had almost prepared himself for such news and only this prevented him from giving voice to the terrible pounding in his ears and the shrill screaming in his head. Corbett was stunned. Images whirled like blazing wheels through his brain. He heard the Chancellor cough and begin speaking again.
    "I am sorry, Hugh. So very sorry. I, too, found her beautiful. She left you this. " He tossed a small, black, silken glove into Corbett's lap. "She gave no other message. She did not suffer, " Burnell's voice slightly faltered. "I – I ensured that she did not suffer. A cup of wine, heavily drugged, was given to her before the fires at Smithfield were started. "
    Corbett, still dazed, heard the Chancellor's voice as if