Song of a Dark Angel

swung back and Gurney strode in.
    'You should have waited!' He exclaimed angrily.
    'What for, Sir Simon?' Corbett asked. 'Your permission?'
    'This is my house,' Gurney replied tersely.
    'Sir Simon, I mean no offence, but we may find something here to tell us who killed Monck and to shed light on the mystery he was investigating.'
    Gurney stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
    'That's interesting,' Corbett murmured. He grinned at Ranulf. 'Lady Alice must have realized where we were going and hurried to tell her husband. I wonder if Sir Simon was angry because of our lack of courtesy or something else? Anyway, let's have a look.'
    They began to sift through the dead clerk's possessions. Two locks of hair, each in its small taffeta pouch, a wedding ring and a small, battered doll were sad mementoes of Monck's wife and murdered daughter. A short letter, the parchment yellow and cracking with age, proved to be a love note written twenty years ago by Monck's wife. Reading it, Corbett felt a surge of compassion for Monck.
    'God rest you, Lavinius,' he whispered. He shivered as if an icy hand had gently stroked the nape of his neck. Would this happen to him? Would another clerk sift through his intimate possessions after some fatal ambush in a London alleyway or sudden attack on a lonely road?
    'Master?' Ranulf shook him by the shoulder.
    'Ranulf, take all this to our chamber. Just wrap it in a blanket. Everything.'
    Maltote and Ranulf began to pile Monck's possessions on to the bed.
    'What are these?' Ranulf pulled some grimy clothes from a battered saddlebag.
    'Probably Lickspittle's,' Corbett said.
    He took the tunic, shirt and hose from Ranulf. The shirt was blood-stained and, like the tunic and hose, still slightly damp. Corbett threw them in with the rest.
    'Make sure you take everything,' he said. 'Sir Simon must be as curious as we are. And, Maltote, go down to the stables and see if any of Monck's possessions were brought back with the body.'
    Back in their own chamber they sorted through what they had found. Among the purely personal possessions were a small book and some rolls of parchment. Corbett had taken these to the table and begun to study them when Selditch came in, eager to be of assistance.
    'Sir Hugh, if it interests you, Monck was killed by the crossbow bolt. There's no other mark of violence on his body, apart from a slight bruising just under his navel.'
    'How could that have happened?' Corbett asked.
    Selditch pulled a face. 'Monck could have knocked into something before he left, or it could have been caused as he fell from the saddle. It's nothing serious.'
    'And any possessions?' Corbett asked.
    'Your servant has already taken them.' Selditch smiled bleakly. 'And, before you ask, there was no money. I suspect that Catchpole helped himself.'
    Corbett thanked him and then went back to the parchments.
    Some were roughly drawn maps of the area very similar to the ones he had seen before. There was also a short memorandum about King John losing his treasure in the Wash and some rough scribblings which proved more interesting. Monck had drawn up a list of questions:
    Item – The lights at sea and the lights on the cliff top?
    Item – Where could the treasure be hidden? The Hermitage? Or the caves beneath Mortlake Manor?
    Item – Is Holcombe buried in the village churchyard?
    Item – Where is Alan of the Marsh?
    Corbett read on and smiled. There were similar questions about the reeve and the Pastoureaux and it seemed that Monck entertained suspicions of Gurney, Selditch and the sisters of Holy Cross convent. Corbett looked up. 'Alan of the Marsh,' he murmured.
    'What's that, Master?'
    'Alan of the Marsh,' Corbett said. 'I only found out about him because Gurney told me. So how did Monck know?' He sifted through the documents and found the parchment that gave him his answer. 'Monck may have been half-insane,' he said to Ranulf, 'but he was a good clerk. He found out that Holcombe's sister, Adele, married Alan of the Marsh. Certain property in Bishop's Lynn was handed over as her dowry. The grant, as was customary, was confirmed and included in the sheriff's report to the exchequer. Before he left London, Monck must have gone through the exchequer records and found the entry.'
    'So?' Ranulf asked.
    'Alan of the Marsh was described as living at Hunstanton,' Corbett explained. 'And that's why Monck came here. Alan of the Marsh was Holcombe's brother-in-law as well as his accomplice. Now,