Song of a Dark Angel

murders. Or, there again, they may be as guilty as Cain.' Ranulf laughed drily. 'But I'll never accept that they are not looking for the treasure.' 'Continue,' Corbett murmured.
    Ranulf grinned sheepishly over his shoulder at Maltote.
    'It was our young messenger here who gave me the idea. Maltote comes from peasant stock. His father was a villein on a manor something like this. Now, you know the manor system, everything is recorded, everything is written down. Surely, our fat physician, with his love of antiquities, has discovered something about Alan of the Marsh?'
    Corbett threw the blankets back and gingerly climbed out of the bed.
    'I'm going to shave and dress,' he declared. 'Then I want Selditch up here.'
    An hour later, when Corbett was ready, Ranulf ushered Selditch into the chamber. The physician's nervousness only increased when he saw Corbett dressed and waiting.
    'Master Selditch,' Corbett began, 'I'll come swiftly to the point. I suspect Alan of the Marsh was a tenant of these parts, and perhaps even Holcombe. What have you discovered about both this precious pair?'
    The physician was about to refuse to answer. Corbett leaned over and gripped him by the hand.
    'I want to know,' he said quietly. 'I want to know everything. Otherwise I will seize all of Sir Simon's records -his list of rents, taxes, dues and imposts. I'll spend days going through them. If I find there is something you haven't told me, as God is my witness, you will rue the day!' Corbett touched the top of his head. 'Yesterday I was nearly murdered. My patience is running out!'
    Selditch fluttered his fingers nervously.
    'Holcombe was a tenant farmer outside Bishop's Lynn,' he replied slowly. 'Alan was a native of these parts. There's really very little in the records.' He shuffled his feet.
    'How did Alan earn his bread?' Ranulf asked.
    'He was steward of the manor.'
    'And what does that mean?' Corbett asked.
    'He would ride round collecting the manor lord's dues and carry messages and orders.'
    'So, he would know the countryside?'
    'Oh, yes.'
    'And all the hideaways and the secret places?' Selditch nodded.
    'Is there anything I should know?'
    The physician blinked. 'According to one of the rolls of the manorial court,' he answered slowly, 'two years before King John lost his treasure in the Wash, allegations were laid against Alan of being a smuggler.'
    Corbett groaned and hid his face in his hands. He looked up.
    'Is there anything else?'
    Selditch shook his head, so Corbett dismissed him.
    'What's the matter?' Ranulf asked anxiously as the physician closed the door behind him.
    'Oh, for God's sake, Ranulf! Can't you see for yourself? Alan of the Marsh and Holcombe planned to steal King John's treasure. A hasty plan, probably concocted once Holcombe knew that he had been hired to guide the treasure train across the Wash. The plan is, however, successful. Holcombe steals the treasure and meets his accomplice at some lonely place. Now they hide most of their plunder; some they take, perhaps to raise ready cash.' Corbett paused to marshal his thoughts. 'Holcombe, however, is suspected. He's hunted down by the Gurneys, who question then execute him and bury his corpse ignominiously with the little treasure he was carrying.' Corbett paused and smoothed the table with the top of his hand. 'Now, of course, it's all supposed to be a secret but gossip and rumours spread. Alan of the Marsh decides to flee. He hides the treasure.' Corbett glanced at Ranulf. 'What would he do next?' 'Try and leave the country?'
    'Correct. Now, he is a smuggler like many in these parts. He faces, however, a number of difficulties – hiding, securing a passage, then moving the treasure without anyone knowing. Very dangerous, because he knows he's a wanted man.'
    Ranulf shrugged. 'Perhaps he just died?'
    Corbett shook his head. 'What about the other possibility? What if Alan of the Marsh was successful? What if he fled abroad, taking the treasure with him to live a life of luxury beyond the Rhine or in southern France? Don't you realize, Ranulf, we could be chasing will-o'-the-wisps.'
    'So, why all the mystery?' Ranulf exclaimed. 'Why the murders?'
    Corbett rubbed the side of his face. 'I can't answer that. All I do believe is that someone else, or a group of people, is also looking for the treasure.' Corbett sighed. 'However, they too may be chasing will-o'-the-wisps.' Corbett picked up a piece of parchment. 'What we must do is establish a pattern. Yet, what do we