Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

he was being watched and turned to see that two nuns stood at the entrance to the side chapel. The foremost was tall, severe-looking, dressed in a snowy-white habit. A gold medal hung from a filigree chain around her neck. Behind her the other nun was similarly dressed, though smaller, more anxious. If looks could kill, the young novice would have dropped dead on the spot.
    ‘Lady Madeleine Fitzalan?’ Corbett asked, coming
    forward .
    Lady Madeleine didn’t even shift her gaze from the petrified novice.
    ‘What are you doing here, Sister Fidelis?’
    ‘I was practising the Salve Regina .’
    ‘And she sang beautifully,’ Corbett declared. ‘Even though her knuckles were very sore.’
    ‘She’s a clumsy girl,’ Lady Madeleine replied, her eyes shifting to Corbett.
    ‘But when I return,’ Corbett went on, ‘the bruises will have healed, will they not?’
    Lady Madeleine snapped her fingers.
    ‘Go to the novice house, Sister Fidelis!’ She surveyed Corbett from head to toe. ‘I am Lady Madeleine Fitzalan. This is Sister Agnes, my subprioress.’
    The other nun forced a smile.
    ‘And I am Sir Hugh Corbett, Keeper of the King’s Secret Seal, his special emissary to these parts. I carry his warrant and authority. This is Ranulf-atte-Newgate, my manservant, senior clerk in the Chancery of the Green Wax.’
    ‘You have no authority on church lands!’
    ‘I can get it.’
    Lady Madeleine’s thin face broke into a smile.
    ‘Could you really, Sir Hugh?’ She brushed by him, walked towards the shrine and gave Ranulf the same critical look. ‘You have a bold stare, man!’
    ‘I was examining your habit, my lady, its snowy whiteness. Is that a symbol of holiness or just humility?’
    Corbett closed his eyes at the hiss of indrawn breath.
    ‘Lady Madeleine.’ He came and stood beside her. ‘Your half-brother has been murdered.’
    ‘God assoil him!’
    ‘And a young woman’s corpse was left outside the postern of your priory. I understand she, too, had been murdered, by an arrow to the neck.’
    ‘Who told you that?’
    ‘His Majesty the King. Not to mention the gossips at the Devil-in-the-Woods tavern.’
    ‘It’s well named.’ Lady Madeleine’s icy gaze never faltered. ‘But, yes, the poor woman’s corpse was found and we gave it Christian burial.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘It’s one of the Corporal Acts of Mercy .’
    ‘Did you know the woman?’
    ‘No, I did not!’
    ‘Had she ever visited this priory or shrine?’
    ‘No, she did not and you can ask that question of any of the community.’
    ‘And where is she buried?’
    ‘In our graveyard.’
    Corbett produced his warrant bearing the royal seal.
    ‘Then, my lady, by the authority invested in me, I wish the corpse exhumed so I can examine it.’
    ‘You cannot do that.’
    Corbett walked away. ‘Ranulf, find a mattock, hoe and spade. Use your authority to find out where this poor corpse lies buried. My lady prioress, I will explain my actions to the King and to the Archbishop, and you can then account for your refusal to co-operate with me.’
    ‘Sir Hugh.’
    He turned. Lady Madeleine’s face had softened.
    ‘I did not mean to quarrel. First, let me answer your questions. The case containing the relic is never opened. Secondly, I will answer your questions in my parlour. Thirdly, since I am prioress here, I will have the body exhumed!’



Chapter 6

    One of the priory lay brothers dug the edge of his spade under the coffin lid, pushed it up and hastily walked away. The casket itself was nothing more than a long narrow chest tightly nailed down. Corbett told Ranulf to stand aside and, putting a cloth soaked in wine, vinegar and herbs to his mouth and nose, drew his dagger and walked closer. The lay brothers had hastily withdrawn. Lady Madeleine and the community did not wish to be present. Ranulf stood some distance away under the spreading branches of a gnarled yew tree. Corbett pushed the lid away. Despite the wine-soaked cloth, the stench was offensive; the corpse beneath its gauze veil was now in mortal decay. Yet, at the same time, Corbett felt a deep sadness, body, dressed in a simple white gown, looked young, pathetic and forlorn. He pulled back the makeshift coif and noticed the close-cropped hair. He rubbed a few strands between his fingers. For some reason he felt certain the hair was dyed. The wound in the throat was a repellent blue-black.
    ‘God have mercy on you!’ Corbett whispered. ‘But it’s true, there’s