Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

its polished wooden choir stalls on either side. At the far end stood a marble altar on a raised dais which was carpeted in thick blue and gold wool. Silver candlesticks stood on the altar and, above them, a jewel-encrusted pyx which held the Blessed Sacrament hung by a filigree chain. The nun standing in the stalls was facing the altar, hands by her sides. Corbett expected her to continue singing but she faltered and began again.
    ‘Salve Regina , Mater Misericordia, Vita Dulcedo et Spes Nostra, Salve.’
    ‘Hail Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy, Hail Our Life, our Sweetness and Our Hope.’
    ‘Ad te clamanus... ’ But then her voice faltered off.
    ‘Ad te clamanus, exules filii Evae,’ Corbett sang in a rich baritone voice. ‘Ad te suspiramus, Sementes et flentes.’
    ‘To you, we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To you we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this Vale of Tears.’
    The young nun turned. Her pretty face, framed by its coif, was white with shock.
    ‘I... What are you doing here?’
    ‘Waiting for Lady Madeleine.’ Corbett walked forward. ‘You seem to be having trouble with the hymn. Do you not have a Book of Hours?’
    The young nun, more composed, grinned impishly at Ranulf.
    ‘I’m Sister Fidelis,’ she said in a rush. ‘I’m only a novice. I just cannot remember the words. So Lady Johanna, the choir mistress, not to mention the Lady Marcellina the novice mistress, have told me to stand here and sing it until I’ve learned it correctly.’
    Corbett bowed. ‘I am Sir Hugh Corbett, Keeper of the Secret Seal, special emissary from His Grace the King.’
    Sister Fidelis’ eyes rounded in amazement.
    ‘We are not as important as we sound.’ Corbett smiled. ‘Indeed, we have just met your Sister Veronica, who regarded us as two marauders.’
    ‘She would! I asked her for help but she says she’s too busy.’
    ‘Then we’ll help,’ Corbett replied. ‘Won’t we, Ranulf?’
    ‘Men aren’t supposed to sing here,’ Sister Fidelis simpered.
    ‘I don’t think the good Lord will object,’ Corbett replied. ‘And you must learn the words.’
    ‘It’s something I will talk about for days,’ Sister Fidelis laughed. ‘You begin, I’ll repeat each line.’
    Ranulf, too surprised to join in, watched his master stand next to the young nun and, in a deep, rich voice, begin the Salve Regina . At the end of each line he paused and the young sister repeated it; at the very end Sister Fidelis triumphantly joined in the last line.
    ‘ O Dulcis! O Pia! Virgo Maria!’
    ‘I sang it!’ she exclaimed. ‘I know it now. You won’t tell them, will you?’
    Corbett turned to Ranulf. ‘Our lips are sealed, aren’t they?’
    Ranulf just gaped and wondered, not for the first time, if the arrow which had struck his master in Oxford had damaged more than his chest bone.
    ‘Thank you.’ Sister Fidelis smiled. ‘I never can remember the words in choir, Lady Johanna is so hard. She beats my knuckles with a ferrule.’
    She held up a white, delicate hand; nasty red bruises marred the knuckles. Corbett kissed her fingertips.
    ‘Such harshness is ill fitting,’ he murmured.
    Sister Fidelis blushed and withdrew her hand.
    ‘So, you are awaiting Lady Madeleine. I tell you this, you’ll tarry a long while! Lady Madeleine loves to keep people waiting. Even Lord Henry, when he came here, had to kick his heels in the guest house.’ She paused. ‘And he paid generously to refurbish the shrine!’
    ‘Does the priory have many such noble visitors?’ Corbett queried.
    ‘Oh yes. The Prince of Wales came here.’
    ‘I didn’t know Prince Edward had a devotion to the St Hawisia?’ Corbett asked innocently.
    ‘Well, he has, he came in here. But I’m only a novice, sir,’ she trilled on. ‘Such comings and goings do not concern me.’
    ‘What comings and goings?’ Corbett quietly prayed that Lady Madeleine would indeed tarry a while, since this fresh-faced young novice seemed eager to chatter.
    ‘Lady Johanna shouldn’t hit me with a ferrule.’ Sister Fidelis sucked on her knuckles.
    Corbett studied her intently. He wondered if the young lady had been placed here, not for any vocation but because she was slightly fey.
    ‘What were you saying?’ she asked.
    ‘You were going to tell me about strange comings and goings.’
    ‘Well, I am! Oh, sir, what is your name?’
    ‘Sir Hugh Corbett, I’m the King’s emissary.’
    ‘Well, you see, Sir Hugh, I often daydream, particularly