Song of a Dark Angel

slung it over his shoulder. 'Maltote, you stay here. Watch the strain on the pegs!'
    Ranulf grasped the rope ladder and began to walk backwards. He lowered himself over the edge of the cliff and disappeared out of sight. Corbett prayed. He heard Ranulf's shout. Grasping the rope ladder, he too went over the edge of the cliff. He shut his eyes, lowering one foot then another. He gripped the ladder with both hands. Now and again he stopped as a buffet of wind caught him. He thanked God that the wind was coming from the land and not the sea. Even so the rope ladder swayed dangerously, and Corbett grasped the rope tighter as he continued his descent.
    'Not far!' Ranulf shouted.
    The voice seemed to come out of the rock face beside Corbett.
    'Here, Master!'
    Corbett turned to his right and saw Ranulf's outstretched hand. He grasped the guide rope more securely, and then Ranulf's hand.
    'Let go!' his servant ordered.
    Corbett did and, a little bruised where he had brushed the face of the cliff, he was abruptly pulled into an underground cavern. It was dark and wet. Ranulf walked deeper into the darkness. He took two candles out of his jerkin, struck a tinder and lit both. He came back and handed one to Corbett. The clerk stared around and glimpsed the pools of water on the floor.
    'Is it safe?' he muttered. 'Can the tide creep in here?' 'We're too high,' Ranulf assured him. 'But the cave catches the spray and the rain, hence the dampness. You've seen the cliff, it's chalk-layered, it must soak up a lot of water.' Ranulf's voice echoed round the cavern.
    'Hell's teeth!' Corbett muttered. 'I'm tempted to tell the king to search for his treasure himself!'
    Ranulf, however, was eager to continue. 'There's no one else coming?' he asked.
    Corbett shook his head. 'I think it's best if we do this by ourselves.'
    They walked further down the cave. At one point Corbett stopped to examine strange drawings etched on the walls – men, armed with spears and shields, hunted strange creatures he had never seen before. The paintings were done in black, red and blue dyes.
    'Does that have anything to do with the treasure?' Ranulf asked.
    Corbett peered closer. 'I doubt it. I've heard of these drawings in caves along the southern coast, painted by peoples long dead.'
    Corbett followed Ranulf. His nervousness increased as the tunnel narrowed. Would it end in a rock face, he wondered? Had he misunderstood Alan of the Marsh's drawing? Or was that some subtle ploy to disguise the true hiding-place? Ranulf, also, lost some of his jauntiness. Soon they were forced to walk in single file, the walls closed in, the rock above them seemed to swoop down to trap them. They entered a narrow passage, no more than a foot across. Ranulf squeezed through. Corbett heard his exclamation and followed to find they had entered a spacious underground chamber.
    'This must be it,' Ranulf murmured.
    They walked forward, the pool of light from the tallow candles going before them. They separated, Corbett going to the right, Ranulf moving over to the far corner. Corbett's heart sank. Would there be anything here? Ranulf's shouts answered his question. 'Master, it's here!'
    Corbett went over to where his manservant stood. At first he could see nothing but a pool of candlelight but Ranulf crouched, pushing the candle before him. Against the rock face were four or five large sacks. The cloth was beginning to crumble and Corbett glimpsed the precious objects they contained.
    'The royal treasure!' Ranulf exclaimed. He moved his candle and Corbett saw the outstretched arm of a skeleton, head drunkenly flung to one side. 'And its guardian, Father James!'
    Corbett went across and studied the skeleton carefully. The flesh had long decayed, the bones were yellow and brittle. The man's leather boots and belt and a few scattered scraps of cloth were all that remained. He pointed to the back of the skull, where the bone had been shattered.
    'I think,' he said, 'that Alan of the Marsh and Holcombe divided the treasure. This is Alan's portion. A smuggler, he would know about this cave. He needed another person to help him so he called on his parish priest. They brought the treasure here, climbing down to it in the same way as we did. After which Alan killed the priest, striking him on the back of the head with a rock.'
    Ranulf listened impatiently. He pulled one of the weather-beaten sacks over. The fabric, thin with age, ripped and the precious contents – silver plate, golden