The Treason of the Ghosts

hands, enjoying
himself. He loved to follow his master’s tortuous mind. It reminded him of a
hunting dog snaking and curling amongst the bushes, refusing to give up the
scent, determined to track down its quarry. ‘Perhaps,’ he suggested, ‘we should
collect Master Blidscote and Deverell and cart them off to London .’
    ‘I
doubt it.’ Corbett loosened the cords on the neck of his shirt. ‘The most they
would tell us is that they were corrupted. The killer, the blackmailer,
probably approached his victims in a silent, secretive way.’ He sighed. ‘Now,
as for the killer of Molkyn and Thorkle, we have two choices. First, the
Mummer’s Man could have silenced them. Perhaps both were having qualms of
conscience, feelings of guilt, although there is no evidence of that. Indeed,
the little I know of Molkyn, it’s highly unlikely.’
    ‘And secondly?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘That
there’s a second killer in Melford. Someone who now knows Sir Roger was
innocent either because they found evidence or, more simply, because these
murders have begun again. This man, or woman, realises what a heinous
miscarriage of justice has been committed and is determined to avenge Sir
Roger’s death. Molkyn and Thorkle die and Sir Louis is attacked.’ Corbett
chewed the corner of his lip. ‘Yes, it must be an avenging angel, hence the
warnings daubed on Sir Roger’s tombstone and at the gibbet.’
    ‘And
who could this avenging angel be?’ Chanson asked.
    ‘Well,
the list is endless. Perhaps the priests, they may have heard something in
confession. Chapeleys’ son, Sir Maurice, eager to avenge his
father’s name. Oh, God knows! It could have even been their wives.’
    ‘Their wives!’ Ranulf exclaimed.
    ‘I
told you. I met them tonight. Believe me, Ranulf, if some assassin cut my
throat, and the Lady Maeve showed as little grief as those two,’ he smiled,
‘I’d be tempted to come back and haunt her! I have never met widows like that.
God forgive me, they were almost happy to have their husbands cold in their graves. I believe Ursula may have known Sir Roger more intimately
than her husband would have liked. There is no doubt that Lucy, Thorkle’s wife,
is dewy-eyed about the miller’s son. The one I would love to have questioned,
and intend to do so, is young Margaret.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Why, Chanson, because I am suspicious. Somehow or
other she knows a great deal. She was Molkyn’s daughter, a companion to Widow
Walmer and she hated her father.’
    ‘So
many theories,’ Ranulf whispered. ‘So many paths. Which one do we follow?’
    ‘I
don’t know.’ The clerk spread his hands. ‘So many
possibilities. Is the murderer of five years ago responsible for these
last two young women’s deaths? Is he responsible for the killing of Molkyn,
Thorkle, the attack on Tressilyian, those secret messages? Or are there two,
perhaps even three, killers? Are the Jesses killer and the Mummer’s Man one and
the same? How did this assassin, despite all our theories, entice his victims
out to some desolate spot? Why was Walmer killed? What happened to Furrell?
Were Blidscote, Deverell, Molkyn and Thorkle corrupted? If
so, why and by whom?’
    Corbett
got to his feet, undid his jerkin, went across to the lavarium and splashed
water over his face. He took a linen cloth and dried himself.
    ‘We
should question Master Deverell but it will be as informative as talking to
this bed post. I could go back to the mill and, of course, there are those two
priests. Tomorrow, Chanson, Ranulf will come with me. You seek out Master
Blidscote. Take him to the Guildhall. I want to know if there have been other
reports about young women disappearing over the last ten years.’
    ‘And
us?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘We
are going to the dawn Mass at St Edmund’s.’ Corbett looked down at the floor.
‘I was attacked tonight. I don’t see the logic behind that, or indeed what
happened to Justice Tressilyian. Beneath the serene surface of this town seethe
bloody passions and murderous urges. I need the Mass. I must take the sacrament.’
    Ranulf
watched his strange master.
    ‘In
a matter of days,’ Corbett continued, ‘we celebrate All-Hallows Eve. They say
the ghosts of the dead come back. When I was a boy, we used to light fires, a
circle of bonfires around the village, to ward off the ghosts. Well, the ghosts
have come back to Melford to haunt, to seek justice, perhaps even revenge. We
not only deal with treasons of the living, Ranulf, but