Song of a Dark Angel

questions!'

Chapter 6
    By noon Fourbour and the reeve were at Mortlake Manor. Corbett saw the baker first. Brushing aside the man's protests at being taken from his work, Corbett waved him to a stool in the corner of the great hall arid sat opposite. He studied the man's silver hair and pasty skin, which made it look as though the baker had been tinted by the flour he used. Fourbour was small and thin, with darting eyes and a flickering tongue. A muscle high in his cheek twitched nervously.
    'I want to talk to you about the death of your wife,' Corbett said brusquely.
    Fourbour's nervousness increased.
    'Her name was Amelia?'
    'Yes,' Fourbour whispered.
    'And how long had you been married?'
    'Six years. She was ten years my junior.' The man's eyes filled with tears. 'She was very pretty, Sir Hugh.' His eyes flitted round the empty hall. 'But she was never at home in Hunstanton.'
    'Where did she come from?'
    'She was a miller's daughter from Bishop's Lynn. I used to go there to buy my flour. Her maiden name was Culpeper.'
    Corbett glanced away. A miller in a place like Bishop's Lynn would be very prosperous. Why had he allowed his daughter to marry a village baker? Fourbour seemed to read Corbett's mind.
    'Amelia had been involved in scandal. She became pregnant, but the child died.' The words came out in a rush.
    'And you asked for her hand in marriage?'
    'Yes, yes, I did. Her father was only too pleased. He bestowed a large dowry and Amelia did not object. At first our marriage was happy but, about eighteen months, ago-' Fourbour pushed his fingers through his thinning hair. 'Yes, I think it was then, Amelia became secretive and unhappy. She would go for long walks or ride out on the moors. I would object but she said the villagers didn't like her, she had to get away.'
    'Do you know where she went?'
    'Sometimes, I think, as far as Holy Cross convent.'
    'Didn't she have any friends?'
    'No, not really. On May Day and Holy Days she tried to join the rest of the women on the green, but they always ignored her. The same was true when she went to church.' Fourbour licked his dry lips. 'Amelia said she used to be jostled.'
    'Did she see the priest?'
    'Twice. But Amelia said she didn't like Father Augustine. She found him rather cold.'
    Corbctt nodded understandingly. 'And the evening your wife was killed?'
    Fourbour rubbed his face in his hands. 'Amelia had been agitated,' he replied slowly. 'Just before dusk she saddled our horse and said she would ride out on the moor.' The baker's voice broke. 'The horse came back by itself. I and my apprentices went out to search. We found her there, hanging from a rope that had been thickly coated with pitch. Lord knows, it was black as soot out here. If it hadn't been for the white of her face, we wouldn't have glimpsed her. One of my apprentices saw her first. He saw her hanging. I said not to approach her. I just couldn't believe it.'
    'Didn't you want to cut your wife's body down?'
    Fourbour looked away.
    'I couldn't,' he stuttered. 'I just went cold. One of the apprentices ran to Mortlake Manor. Sir Simon, the physician and that strange man, Monck, came. Monck carried a torch. He and the physician went forward. Monck searched the ground beneath the scaffold then remounted his horse to cut Amelia free. Afterwards he said there was no sign of any other hoof marks or boot prints.'
    Fourbour paused. He seemed to be thinking. 'The next morning,' he said at last, 'the headless body of his servant was found on the beach. At first, I thought the deaths were connected.'
    'Did you?' Corbett asked. 'Why?'
    'Oh, because they happened at the same time.'
    Corbett touched the man gently on the back of his hand. It felt like a sliver of ice.
    'They were murdered, Master Fourbour. Cerdic Lickspittle and your wife were murdered. Do you know why?'
    The man shook his head.
    'Can you tell me anything which would explain your wife's death?'
    Again the shake of the head.
    'Or who rode your wife's horse back to the outskirts of the village?'
    'I don't know,' Fourbour whispered. 'The villagers who saw it thought it was Amelia, but the night was dark and the rider wore a cloak.'
    Corbett chewed his lip. He heard Robert the reeve outside the door, complaining loudly about being kept waiting. Corbett ignored him.
    'You saw your wife's body?' he said gently.
    Fourbour nodded.
    'And there was no other mark of violence on her?' 'No,' the baker whispered.
    'And did you discover anything amongst her