Song of a Dark Angel

Corbett peered through the door's spyhole, but the young man was fast asleep on what appeared to be a most comfortable bed. At the end of the passage, the physician pulled away a large beer barrel revealing a narrow doorway. He took a key from his belt and unlocked the door and they entered a long tunnel. The air was much colder and Corbett was sure he could hear the rumble of the sea. With the physician in front and Gurney behind, Corbett realized how vulnerable he was and wished Ranulf was with him. He put his hand on his dagger and, as the ground underfoot became slippery, wished he had not changed his boots for soft leather buskins. His heart began to pound and the sweat broke out on his brow, for the passageway was narrow, so tight it almost felt as if the walls were closing in on him. Corbett breathed deeply. He fixed his gaze on the spluttering torch Selditch carried and quietly prayed for a speedy end to their journey. Suddenly, Gurney and the physician turned a corner. The passageway became broader and led into an underground chamber. Corbett breathed more easily as Selditch lit the torches fixed in the walls of the cavern. The place flared into light. Selditch began to claw at a pile of boulders and stones in the far corner. Gurney went over to help him and Corbett watched fascinated as they pulled out a long pinewood coffin. Gurney undid the clasps and pushed the coffin forward. Corbett gazed at the yellowing skeleton that lay there. He looked up in surprise.
    'Who is this? And what is this?'
    He glimpsed a leather pouch at the foot of the coffin. He bent down to pick it up, but Gurney was faster. He plucked it out and held it tightly against his chest.
    'Who is this?' Corbett repeated.
    The hair on the nape of his neck began to prickle. His hand fell to his dagger.
    'Oh, Hugh, Hugh,' Gurney murmured. 'We are not your enemies. We are only frightened of what you might do.' Gurney pointed to the skeleton. 'This is John Holcombe, once a native of Bishop's Lynn. My great-grandfather, Sir Richard Gurney, hired him to lead King John's convoy across the Wash.' Gurney tapped the decaying coffin with the toe of his boot. 'Instead Holcombe took it to its destruction – or at least part of it, the royal treasure train. Apparently, before King John left Wisbech, Holcombe had seen the treasure piled high on sumpter ponies and mules. In the blackness of his soul he devised a murderous plan. The king's convoy was in three parts – the king and the court first, the treasure train and then the foot soldiers. Holcombe was to go in front but on that day he held back. He also, using a heavy mist as his excuse, deliberately delayed the crossing.'
    'The rest you know,' Selditch interposed. 'The tides began to sweep in. The treasure's escort panicked. Holcombe rode back. He seized a string of mules and, using his knowledge of the secret paths and routes, escaped with some of the treasure, leaving the rest to be washed away and its guardians drowned.'
    Gurney took up the story again. 'Now, when my greatgrandfather reached Swynesford, he began to think about what had happened. He was no fool and, in the last confusing days of King John's reign, he decided to leave the court and hunt Holcombe down. It's a long story.' Gurney played with the leather pouch he held. 'It's all contained in here.'
    Corbett held his hand out and Gurney gave him the pouch.
    'For you only, Hugh. I don't want that bastard Monck seizing these documents!'
    Corbett nodded. 'We'll see,' he murmured. He gestured down at the coffin. 'How did Holcombe end up here?'
    'Well, to cut a long story short, my great-grandfather caught him and hanged him on the gallows, the ones you passed on Hunstanton cliffs. Once the flesh was decomposed, he had his corpse placed in a special casket and buried it here.'
    'But he told no one?' Corbett asked.
    'No, he was ashamed. After all, it was he who had hired Holcombe and he had his enemies. The malicious would whisper that he and Holcombe were accomplices.'
    'And what about the treasure?' Corbett asked.
    'Ah, that's where the mystery begins. You see, Sir Richard had few sensibilities in the matter. Before he was hanged, Holcombe was tortured in the dungeon you have just passed. He refused to disclose his hiding-place but did admit he'd had an accomplice, a second guide named Alan of the Marsh, the steward here at the manor. According to Holcombe, Alan knew where the treasure was hidden. However, according to my