Song of a Dark Angel

wine. 'And tell Sir Simon we'll be leaving tomorrow. I'll sleep for a while. The arrangements will take some time. Just make sure that Sir Simon does what I ask.'
    Corbett drained the wine cup, lay down on the bed and fell asleep. It was dark when Ranulf woke him.
    'It's late,' Ranulf whispered. 'The meal will commence within an hour. You'd best prepare.'
    Corbett swung himself off the bed and groaned as the wound on his head made him wince.
    'Ranulf, make sure you are armed!'
    Corbett got ready slowly, then he and his companions went down to the hall.
    The great table had already been prepared. Sir Simon and Alice were sitting in their chairs before the fire. They plied him with questions – what was the matter? Why was he leaving so ^abruptly? – but he returned no answers. He sat toying with the ring on his finger and staring into the fire.
    'Has Monck's corpse been removed?' he asked.
    It was Alice who replied. 'Yes, it's been taken to the village church; Father Augustine will sing the requiem tomorrow. Though perhaps it would be best if Monck was buried here.'
    'I think so,' Corbett said. 'He had no family and my Lord of Surrey is not mindful of such things.'
    'When will you leave, Hugh?' Alice asked.
    'Early tomorrow morning, I hope,' Corbett replied. He smiled thinly. 'Perhaps I'll stay for Monck's requiem Mass. I'll make arrangements with Father Augustine. He is coming here tonight, is he not?'
    'Of course. And Fourbour the baker.'
    Selditch came bustling in, chattering about a patient he'd been treating in the village. Father Augustine arrived next, looking rather angry at being summoned from what he called his 'onerous duties'. He refused to sit but stood by the hearth.
    'The gossips are busy in the village,' he said.
    'Sir Simon, I suggest that the prisoners be removed as quickly as possible. Poor Robert the reeve!' He glared at Corbett. 'Everyone knows the truth. We should have kept the girl here.'
    'I have no authority to do that,' Corbett replied. 'And what future is there for her here? The gossips would kill her, if not physically then at least spiritually. You know that, Father.'
    The priest was about to object but at that moment the steward called them to dinner. They took their places at the table. The atmosphere was stilted and tense, and became even more so when Fourbour hurried into the hall, apologizing profusely for being late.
    Gurney ushered him into his seat, Father Augustine said grace and the meal was served. The Gurneys were puzzled, rather frightened. Catchpole, who had swaggered in after grace had been said, sat stony-faced. Selditch was secretive, Fourbour tense and fearful. Father Augustine still showed his vexation at being summoned to the manor. Corbett toyed with his food until Gurney could tolerate the atmosphere no longer. He banged his wine cup on the table and glared down at the clerk.
    'Hugh, you asked us all here. Give us your reasons.' 'He asked us!' Father Augustine exclaimed. 'What is all this?'
    'I thought you'd be interested in what I have to say,' Corbett replied. 'First, I know who has been responsible for all the murders.'
    'The Pastoureaux, surely?' Fourbour bleated.
    Corbett smiled grimly and shook his head. 'Oh no,' he said, 'that's just vicious rumour.' He rolled a crumb back and forth on the table top. 'More importantly, I think I have found the lost treasure of King John.'

Chapter 13
    Corbett's hearers sat dumbstruck, eyes staring, mouths gaping. Selditch was the first to recover. 'Where is it?'
    'I will tell you that later,' Corbett replied. 'This is preposterous!' Gurney exploded. 'Where, Corbett?' Selditch repeated. 'Where, for God's sake?'
    'Certain questions first,' Corbett said. 'Lady Alice, your perfume?'
    'What about it, Hugh? What on earth has that got to do with…?' Her voice trailed off.
    'I smelled it,' Corbett replied, 'yesterday, when I was attacked in the Hermitage. It's a fragrant perfume' – he smiled thinly – 'that I have always associated with you.'
    'For Heaven's sake!' Gurney shouted. 'Are you implying that my wife attacked you?'
    'No, Sir Simon. I simply said I smelled her perfume.'
    'It means the same thing,' Catchpole grunted from down the table.
    Father Augustine, seated beside Alice, looked askance. 'Are you saying Lady Alice was in the Hermitage?' he demanded.
    Corbett sighed in exasperation. 'Lady Alice, has any of your perfume ever been stolen?' 'Of course not!'
    'How is it kept?' Corbett asked.
    'As small sachets of wool,