Song of a Dark Angel

possessions – a letter, a note – that might explain her death?'
    'No, I didn't.' Fourbour looked away. 'Amelia was a caring, loving young woman. She had been grievously hurt by the desertion of her lover and the death of her child. And, before you ask, never once did she mention him.' For ar moment he looked as though he were going to say more, but clearly he thought better of it.
    'What were you going to say?' Corbett asked quietly. 'Please tell me.' He leaned forward and gripped the man's wrist. 'I apologize for my blunt questions. Your wife may have had a sad life but she had a tragic death. She met her murderer out on the moors. Are you going to allow him or her to walk away scot free?'
    Fourbour opened his wallet and brought out an ivory necklace. It glinted and shone in the candlelight.
    'It's beautiful,' Corbett murmured. 'And rather costly.'
    'It was Amelia's,' Fourbour said. 'And, although she never said, I always believed it was given to her by her lover. No reason, it's just that she carried it everywhere.'
    'Anything else?' Corbett asked.
    'Once, just once, I went out after her on the moors. Amelia began complaining about the villagers. I told her they were poor people. Amelia looked at me and laughed. She said Hunstanton might be richer than I thought.' He shrugged. 'I didn't know what she meant. Do you, Sir Hugh?'
    'No.' Corbett got to his feet and held out his hand. 'Master Fourbour, I thank you for seeing me. And, if necessary, I will come back to you again.'
    Fourbour heaved a sigh of relief and left the hall as Gurney's steward ushered Robert the reeve into the room. Robert looked surlily at Corbett, who waved him to the empty stool. The reeve pulled his cloak about him, his fat face suffused with a malicious arrogance.
    'I am a busy man, Sir Hugh. Ask your questions but, before you threaten me, may I remind you that Gilbert and his mother were found guilty of murder by the court. And we did not intend to kill her.'
    Corbett leaned across. 'Master Reeve, you are an assassin and a bully. A man full of his own pride who acts to hide his own secrets.'
    The reeve paled.
    'What do you mean?' he stuttered.
    Corbett smiled to himself. The reeve had forgotten the insults he had thrown at him in his alarm at being accused of harbouring a secret. The reeve's black button eyes watched Corbett anxiously.
    'Secrets!' he exclaimed. 'What secrets?'
    'Your newly found wealth.'
    'It was a bequest. A legacy.'
    'From whom?'
    'A distant relative.'
    'Where did this distant relative live?'
    The reeve looked away.
    'Master Robert,' Corbett murmured, 'I can order your arrest and send you south to be questioned before the King's Bench. Now, you do not wish that, do you? Your wife has recently given birth to a child and you are, quite rightly, an important man in this community. You could spend months in London.'
    The reeve looked sullen and bit at a dirty fingernail.
    'I was given the money honestly.'
    'Who by?'
    The reeve sighed.
    'I want the truth, Robert,' Corbett persisted.
    'A pedlar came to Hunstanton. He brought a message from Edward Orifab, a goldsmith in Bishop's Lynn, saying that he held certain monies for me. 1 went there and was given five silver coins and one gold piece.'
    Corbett narrowed his eyes. 'And you didn't ask who would bestow such wealth on you?'
    Robert shook his head. 'The goldsmith was most insistent. He would tell me nothing.'
    Corbett watched the reeve carefully. You are lying, he thought.
    'You are sure of that, Robert?'
    'As God made little green apples, Sir Hugh.'
    'And your daughter, Blanche?'
    Robert smiled. 'She joined the Pastoureaux and left.' 'You seem pleased.'
    'I miss her, but I have seven mouths to feed and what could Blanche do? She was too poor for the nunnery and whom could she marry? Someone like Gilbert? I am a poor man, Sir Hugh. Blanche will be happy.'
    Corbctt nodded. He thanked and dismissed the reeve, then sat staring at the wall. 'Bishop's Lynn! Bishop's Lynn!' he repeated to himself.
    'Master?'
    Corbett looked up. Ranulf was standing over him.
    'Sit down, Ranulf. Do you feel better now?'
    'Aye, it's a wonder what a walk in God's fresh air will do.'
    'Good! Listen, Ranulf, we are just whistling in the dark here. Monck scurries around the countryside doing God knows what. It's time we did a little work ourselves. I want you and Maltote to go to the village tomorrow and see what you can find out. And talk to Gilbert – he roams the moors and may have seen