Song of a Dark Angel

Corbett, beckoned him forward.
    'Father, couldn't you have stopped this?'
    The priest's eyes flickered from Gurney to Corbett. He licked his thin, dry lips and stared shamefacedly down at the old woman's corpse.
    'I tried to,' he muttered, 'but their blood lust was up. You can't blame them, Sir Hugh. Marina's corpse lies cold in my church. Who will answer for her death, eh?'
    Gurney snapped his fingers at his retainers. 'Take the woman's corpse to the church. Father, I'll pay the burial dues.'
    'And the young man?' Corbett nodded towards Gilbert, who was straining at his captor's arms and staring slack-mouthed at his mother's bedraggled body.
    'Take him to the manor!' Gurney told his men. 'Get Master Selditch to tend his wounds!'
    Corbett stared round at the villagers.
    'The king and his court lie nearby at Walsingham. He will not be pleased to hear of this violence and disorder. And any person who lifts his hand against Gilbert puts himself beyond the king's peace.'
    'Sir Hugh speaks the truth,' Gurney confirmed. 'A terrible evil stalks this place. More violent deaths have occurred in the last few months than in living memory. So, go! Disperse to your homes!'
    They went. There was some grumbling from hot-heads, but already wiser minds were beginning to prevail. The crowd broke up, the women hustling their children back to their cottages, the men remembering that ploughing and harrowing had to be done. Gilbert was bundled into the saddle of one of the retainer's horses and a taciturn Gurney led them back to the manor house. Just before they entered the gates, he pulled his horse alongside Corbett.
    'Hugh, I thank you.'
    Corbett looked at him.
    'I know what you are thinking,' Gurney said. 'Perhaps I should have shown more force, but these are my people. I held Marina at her baptism.'
    Corbett patted him gently on the arm.
    'Sir Simon, I'm not your judge,' he said. 'Gilbert may well be guilty and if he is he should hang for that terrible crime. But he may be able to help us. You have dungeons?'
    Gurney nodded.
    'Then take him to them, but make him comfortable.'
    Gurney agreed and they clattered into the yard.
    Alice and her maids hurried out and Gurney hastily explained what had happened. Alice led them into the hall and the kitchen boys brought in stoups of ale, bread, cheese and salted bacon. Monck was already sitting before the fire with a heavy-eyed Ranulf and Maltote. He seemed a little calmer than the night before and listened patiently while Corbett described what had happened in the village.
    'You will question Gilbert?'
    Corbett nodded.
    'Good!'
    'But shouldn't you do so?' Corbett asked. 'Surely Marina's death is linked to the Pastoureaux? She was a member of their community.'
    'No, no.' Monck shook his head and played with the pommel of his dagger. 'You deal with Gilbert.'
    Corbett hid his annoyance. 'Tell me, where is Lickspittle buried?'
    'In the village cemetery.'.
    'Did he leave any effects?'
    'Yes, some papers, geegaws, daggers, swords, the clothes he died in. Selditch prepared the corpse, though that was done hurriedly enough. A decapitated body is not something to linger over.'
    'May I look at these effects?' Corbett asked.
    'In time.' Monck got to his feet. 'Now I am busy with the venerable sisters of the Holy Cross convent.' He patted Corbett patronizingly on the shoulders. 'You take care of the rustics, Corbett. Leave other matters to me.' He walked out of the hall.
    Corbett winked at Ranulf and Maltote. 'And how are my lively lads?'
    Ranulf groaned. 'Too much wine, too little water,' he said. 'It's Maltote's fault – he invited Catchpole to a drinking contest.' He stopped speaking as Catchpole himself came into the hall.
    'Sir Hugh, the prisoner is in the dungeons.' The old soldier grinned. 'It's a long time since we had a prisoner.' 'Is he comfortable?'
    'Aye, but fearful of being hanged.' Catchpole smiled. 'But, there again, aren't we all?'
    Corbett finished his ale and walked out to the courtyard. He watched as Monck mounted his horse and galloped out through the gates. Corbett went back up to his own chamber and took a special key from his saddlebag.
    'Every self-respecting housebreaker has one, Master,' Ranulf had once explained. 'All locks are similar and this key fits most.'
    Corbett hastened down the gallery towards Monck's room. He slipped the key into the lock. It turned easily.
    'Well,' Corbett said to himself, 'Ranulf was right.'
    He opened the door and stared around the chamber. The