Song of a Dark Angel

very dark,' he muttered. 'God knows when we will see the light again.'
    Ranulf looked at him strangely. He wondered whether his master was talking about the weather or the mysteries that now confronted them.

Chapter 2
    Marina was running for her life, eyes wide, heart pounding, mouth dry. The icy gorse caught her legs and clutched at the brown robe she wore. She stopped, chest heaving, cursing the mist. She stared round like a frightened doe. 'Where can I go?' she moaned to herself. The mist closed in more thickly around her. She crouched on all-fours, sobbing for breath. She had to get to safety. She squatted like an animal, ears straining into the darkness. An owl hunting over the flat headlands made its sombre cry and a vixen prowling near the village yipped in frustration at the mist-covered sky.
    The young woman licked dry lips. Where could she go? The villagers would drive her out. Father Augustine? He would only shout at her. Perhaps she should go back to the Hermitage! She might get help there, if she told her friends what she knew. But which way? She looked around, vividly remembering her younger days when she and the other village children used to play along the cliff tops pretending to be elves or fairy queens. They would close their eyes and build make-believe palaces. But what could she do now? She moved forward, then froze as a twig snapped behind her.
    'Marina!' a soft voice called. 'Marina!'
    She could stand it no longer. She ran blindly, not caring whether she blundered into pool or marsh. As long as she ran she was safe. The ground beneath her feet, however, seemed to take on a life of its own. The briars and brambles clutched like cruel sharp fingernails at her ankles. She saw a light beckoning and could have shouted with joy. Her legs were growing heavy. She ran, but a bramble bush caught her ankle like a noose. She crashed to the hard, cold ground. She was beginning to scramble to her feet when she heard the soft footfall behind her. She half-turned, but the garrotte tightened around her neck.
    The loud knocking of the steward summoned Corbett and his two companions down to the manor hall. Gurney's servants had laid the great table down the centre of the room. They'd covered it with green samite cloth and judiciously placed two-branched candlesticks to provide soft pools of light. The place smelt sweet – aromatic herbs had been placed in small pots beneath the table and scattered on the roaring fire and on the small capped braziers that stood in each corner. On the floor lay some of the most luxurious rugs Corbett had ever seen. Costly Turkey cloth, emblazoned pennants and bright banners hung from the hammer-beam roof. The air was thick with fragrant odours from the nearby kitchen and buttery. Instead of the usual hard-baked traunchers and pewter spoons, silver plates, golden knives and jewel-encrusted condiment pots decorated the table..
    Gurney and his wife had changed. Alice now wore a murrey-coloured dress whose high collar emphasized her swan-like neck; a gold cord bound her slim waist and a thick white gauze wimple, circled by a silver cord, hid her beautiful hair. Sir Simon was dressed in a russet gown with green hose and brown leather boots. The gown was slashed with green silk on either side of the chest, the sleeves were puffed out with dark-blue taffeta. Corbett hoped he and his party would pass muster. He felt rather dowdy in his dark-brown gown till he glimpsed Monck who, as usual, was dressed completely in black.
    Servants ushered them to their seats. The steward blew on a silver horn and, while minstrels played on the gallery at the far end of the hall, Gurney's retainers began to serve the meal. First the steward brought the great silver salt cellar, bowing three times to his master before placing it in the centre of the table. After him came the pantler, with trays of white manchet loaves. He was followed by the cupbearer carrying a great, two-handled ewer brimming with wine which he tasted and placed in front of his master. Gurney and his guests washed their hands in bowls of rose water, wiping them quickly with the towels on the servants' arms. Only then did Gurney introduce his other guests. Father Augustine was a tall, youngish-looking priest with sandy hair and pale face. He had a sharp, green eyes and a slightly bent nose over thin lips and a firm chin. He gave Corbett the impression of quiet authority. The prioress, Dame Cecily, was small and fat, her round face framed