The Treason of the Ghosts

garrotte: it’s silent and
very quick. I don’t know,’ he rubbed his face, ‘whether he first made her lose
consciousness, then raped her, or just defiled her dead body. What I am sure of
is that he didn’t wear a mummer’s mask. Widow Walmer would never have let such
a creature into her house. So, whom would she allow in?’
    ‘The
list is endless,’ Sorrel replied. ‘Sir Louis, Taverner Matthew, Repton the
reeve, who was sweet on her. Parson Grimstone, Burghesh, Curate Bellen. Even
Molkyn and Thorkle can’t be ignored.’
    Corbett
rocked himself backwards and forwards on the stool. Why would a widow, he
wondered, open her door at the dead of night? There again, she was respectable.
She had the protection of a man like Sir Roger. If her visitor was a worthy
burgess or priest from Melford...?
    ‘The
killer,’ he declared, ‘must have used some pretext to get into her house.’
    ‘That
would be easy,’ Sorrel smiled. ‘Widow Walmer was full of wine and happiness.
Perhaps the visitor posed as a messenger from Sir Roger?’ She caught Corbett’s
sideways glance. ‘I know what you are thinking, clerk!’
    ‘What
am I thinking, Mistress?’
    ‘Furrell,
he was a poacher, wasn’t he? Well liked by Widow Walmer. He was near her
cottage that night. Widow Walmer would see him as no threat. Furrell had
squeezed the life out of many a pheasant or partridge.’
    ‘I
am thinking that,’ Corbett agreed. ‘And you must have thought the same in the
days following Sir Roger’s execution.’
    ‘That’s
why I told Furrell to keep his mouth shut. I pointed out how people might begin
to think, perhaps regret Sir Roger’s death and point the finger at him. I told
him I didn’t want to hear any more about the business so he kept it to
himself.’
    ‘Did
he ever hint that he knew the truth?’
    ‘Sometimes. Once he mentioned Repton the reeve but, as I have
said, he’d grown secretive.’
    ‘Did
he go anywhere? Meet anyone?’
    ‘If
he did, he didn’t tell me.’
    Corbett
started as he heard a sound from the hall beyond. His horse whinnied. Corbett’s
hand went to the dagger in his belt.
    ‘Oh,
you are safe,’ Sorrel reassured him. ‘I’ve sat here many a night, clerk. I can
tell one sound from another. We are alone.’ She grinned impishly. ‘Apart from the ghosts.’
    ‘And
the night Furrell disappeared. You said he left one night?’
    ‘Furrell
had stopped talking to me. Oh, we’d discuss the weather, what he’d poached,
what goods we should buy. He also avoided the Golden Fleece and drank in other
taverns. He’d grown very tense and watchful. He mumbled more and more about the
devil. One night he left, all cloaked and hooded.’
    ‘Was
he armed?’
    ‘Like
me, a dagger and a cudgel. He never returned the next morning. I wondered if he
had got drunk and was sleeping it off somewhere. Or had he been caught? I went
out into Melford but no one had seen him. A week passed. One night I was
praying before that statue. Autumn had come early. I remember a mist sweeping
through the hall. Do you know, clerk,’ her eyes filled with tears, ‘I just knew
Furrell was dead and buried somewhere so I began to wander the countryside. I
didn’t believe the rumours. Furrell wouldn’t run away; he wouldn’t leave me or
his house.’ She blinked quickly. ‘I am not fey-witted. I don’t really believe
in visions or dreams but I used to have nightmares of Furrell’s corpse lying in
some shallow, muddy grave all scarred and unhallowed. I remembered what he used
to say. How, when he died, he wanted his body churched and blessed; a Mass sung
for his soul.’
    ‘Did
you go to see Parson Grimstone?’
    ‘Yes
I did. Him and Master Burghesh were very kind. The
parson said he’d sing a Mass for him and refused the coin I offered. I still
want to find his grave. I’ve discovered many things — that’s what I want to
show you — but not Furrell.’
    ‘Many things?’ Corbett queried.
    ‘Come
with me.’
    Sorrel
put her cup down. She took a torch from the wall, handed it to Corbett and
grasped one herself. She led him back into the hall, across the courtyard and
in through a small stone-fretted door.
    ‘Take
care,’ she warned as she led him up some weatherworn steps.
    Corbett
followed warily. The steps were narrow, steep and slippery. They reached a
stairwell. Corbett steeled his nerves against the scampering rats. At last they
reached a long, narrow room very similar to the hall. The roof was gone,