The Relic Murders

was a perfect day to be in England with a tinge of autumn faint in the air and the fields rich with the promise of a golden harvest. Except for me, poor Shallot: guarding relics, being pursued by Lord Charon and his ilk and riding through the lanes surrounded by some of the most sinister men in Europe. Oh, pity me!
    We reached Malevel early in the afternoon. I must give you a careful description of that sombre place. Malevel was built like a square, three storeys high, not from wood and plaster, but of dark-grey ragstone: there were windows on each storey but these were narrow and shuttered. The roof was of red slate, and two chimneys at either end twisted like snakes up into the sky. I could see why it had been chosen: it was a fortified house, probably used by the Crown to detain prisoners well away from the eyes of the city or as a place for the king to meet one of his whores or someone else's wife. Behind the manor was a cobbled yard with stables and out-houses. On either side of it was a narrow garden and, in front, two broad patches of grass divided by a pebble path which swept up to the main entrance. The back door, or postern gate, was small and narrow. The front door, however, was huge: thick blackened timber hung on steel hinges and was reinforced with iron studs. The manor itself was guarded by a high curtain wall built of the same sombre ragstone, at least twelve feet high with spikes on the top. There were no other entrances except under a dark, cavernous gatehouse.
    Kempe informed Benjamin and me that the Orb would be moved here. We sat on our horses beneath the gatehouse staring at the manor.
    'It was owned by Isabella Malevel,' Kempe explained. 'Then, one night, about three years ago, the manor was attacked and all its precious objects stolen.' 'And Isabella Malevel?' Benjamin asked. 'Oh, she just disappeared. One of life's great mysteries!'
    'It's ideal,' Egremont broke in. 'The best place to keep the Orb. I chose it from the list Kempe gave me.'
    'It's easy to guard,' Sir Thomas added. 'Master Daunbey, you and Shallot will stay in the gatehouse.'
    We left our horses grazing on the grass. Kempe had the keys, and he undid the three locks on the front door and took us in. Now, I have been in many a house of ill repute. I have sheltered in lonely, haunted dwellings on the Scottish March, in ghost-ridden palaces on the banks of the Loire and at gloomy castles along the Rhine. All of them were terrible, blood-soaked places where, as soon as you walked in, the ghosts thronged about you. Malevel was one of the worst.
    'It has an air of menace,' Benjamin whispered as Kempe led us along a passageway then stopped at a staircase which swept up to the other two floors. I could only agree. Perhaps it was the flagstone floor or the empty walls which caught every sound and made it echo. Or, there again, the narrow windows which only let in slivers of light so each room and gallery had a gloomy appearance with corners full of shadows. Oh, it was clean all right, it had been swept and washed and there was furniture in every room but I noticed that, because there were no rushes on the floor or hangings on the wall, every sound reverberated. Egremont was proud he'd chosen such a place. He brushed aside Kempe's objections and insisted that we search the house from the tiles on the roof and then down to the dark, eerie cellar. 'Not even a mouse could break in here,' I announced. My master, who had fallen strangely silent, just nodded.
    We eventually gathered around the kitchen table, Kempe and Egremont sitting at either end.
    'So all is ready.' Egremont began. 'Now about guards: the Noctales will stay here.' 'And provisions?' Kempe asked.
    'I shall obtain them,' Egremont replied quietly. 'We always buy our own food and drink.' 'And what about the English guards?' Sir Thomas declared. 'The King has promised six of his best archers from the Tower.'
    'The Orb of Charlemagne will be brought here tomorrow?' Egremont asked. Kempe nodded. ‘It will arrive here just after noon.'
    Egremont scratched his cheek, one finger playing along a scar from a swordthrust on the side of his jaw.
    'The Orb will be brought here,' he said, fingers jabbing at the kitchen table. 'There will be nine Noctales, the rest will not be needed.'
    His henchman was about to protest but Egremont made a sweeping movement with his hand.
    ‘I require them, Cornelius,' he said softly, 'to guard the guards. Now!' Egremont sniffed, narrowing his eyes. 'The Orb