Paul Doherty - The Demon Archer

‘It’s women,’ he said. ‘Every scene depicts women! There are hardly any men, apart from Adam’s head and Christ. And look, master, even the Saviour, with his long hair and delicate face, has a girlish cast about him.’

‘And have you noticed the damned?’ Corbett asked. He pointed to the dark shadowy forms, each of whom was dressed in battered armour. ‘Look, Ranulf, all those cursed by God are male but the saved are. .’

‘They are all women!’ Ranulf exclaimed. ‘Even the angels!’

They walked along the church. On the one hand the paintings were lavish, brilliant in their colours and expertly depicted but their message was the same. In Heaven as on earth, the woman was good, the male worthy of condemnation.

Corbett looked up the nave. He saw the Lady Chapel to the left and, to the right, a gleaming oak wood sarcophagus, the glass case at its head shimmering in the light of dozens of beeswax candles.

‘St Hawisia’s last resting place,’ he explained.

He was about to go up and investigate when from the choir stalls in the sanctuary came a young woman’s voice intoning the Salve Regina : ‘ Salve Regina, Mater Misericordia, Vita Dulcedo et Spes Nostra, Salve! ’

Corbett raised his finger to his lips and, followed by Ranulf, entered the gorgeously decorated sanctuary with its polished wooden choir stalls on either side. At the far end stood a marble altar on a raised dais which was carpeted in thick blue and gold wool. Silver candlesticks stood on the altar and, above them, a jewel-encrusted pyx which held the Blessed Sacrament hung by a filigree chain. The nun standing in the stalls was facing the altar, hands by her sides. Corbett expected her to continue singing but she faltered and began again.

‘ Salve Regina, Mater Misericordia, Vita Dulcedo et Spes Nostra, Salve .’

‘Hail Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy, Hail Our Life, our Sweetness and Our Hope.’

‘ Ad te clamanus . .’ But then her voice faltered off.

‘ Ad te clamanus, exules filii Evae ,’ Corbett sang in a rich baritone voice. ‘ Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes .’

‘To you, we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To you we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this Vale of Tears.’

The young nun turned. Her pretty face, framed by its coif, was white with shock.

‘I. . What are you doing here?’

‘Waiting for Lady Madeleine.’ Corbett walked forward. ‘You seem to be having trouble with the hymn. Do you not have a Book of Hours?’

The young nun, more composed, grinned impishly at Ranulf.

‘I’m Sister Fidelis,’ she said in a rush. ‘I’m only a novice. I just cannot remember the words. So Lady Johanna, the choir mistress, not to mention the Lady Marcellina the novice mistress, have told me to stand here and sing it until I’ve learned it correctly.’

Corbett bowed. ‘I am Sir Hugh Corbett, Keeper of the Secret Seal, special emissary from His Grace the King.’

Sister Fidelis’ eyes rounded in amazement.

‘We are not as important as we sound.’ Corbett smiled. ‘Indeed, we have just met your Sister Veronica, who regarded us as two marauders.’

‘She would! I asked her for help but she says she’s too busy.’

‘Then we’ll help,’ Corbett replied. ‘Won’t we, Ranulf?’

‘Men aren’t supposed to sing here,’ Sister Fidelis simpered.

‘I don’t think the good Lord will object,’ Corbett replied. ‘And you must learn the words.’

‘It’s something I will talk about for days,’ Sister Fidelis laughed. ‘You begin, I’ll repeat each line.’

Ranulf, too surprised to join in, watched his master stand next to the young nun and, in a deep, rich voice, begin the Salve Regina . At the end of each line he paused and the young sister repeated it; at the very end Sister Fidelis triumphantly joined in the last line.

‘ O Dulcis! O Pia! Virgo Maria! ’

‘I sang it!’ she exclaimed. ‘I know it now. You won’t tell them, will you?’

Corbett turned to Ranulf. ‘Our lips are sealed, aren’t they?’

Ranulf just gaped and wondered, not for the first time, if the arrow which had struck his master in Oxford had damaged more than his chest bone.

‘Thank you.’ Sister Fidelis smiled. ‘I never can remember the words in choir, Lady Johanna is so hard. She beats my knuckles with a ferrule.’

She held up a white, delicate hand; nasty red bruises marred the knuckles. Corbett kissed her fingertips.

‘Such harshness is ill fitting,’ he murmured.

Sister Fidelis blushed and withdrew her hand.

‘So, you are awaiting Lady Madeleine. I tell you this, you’ll tarry a long while! Lady Madeleine loves to keep people waiting. Even Lord Henry, when he came here, had to kick his heels in the guest house.’ She paused. ‘And he paid generously to refurbish the shrine!’

‘Does the priory have many such noble visitors?’ Corbett queried.

‘Oh yes. The Prince of Wales came here.’

‘I didn’t know Prince Edward had a devotion to the St Hawisia?’ Corbett asked innocently.

‘Well, he has, he came in here. But I’m only a novice, sir,’ she trilled on. ‘Such comings and goings do not concern me.’

‘What comings and goings?’ Corbett quietly prayed that Lady Madeleine would indeed tarry a while, since this fresh-faced young novice seemed eager to chatter.

‘Lady Johanna shouldn’t hit me with a ferrule.’ Sister Fidelis sucked on her knuckles.

Corbett studied her intently. He wondered if the young lady had been placed here, not for any vocation but because she was slightly fey.

‘What were you saying?’ she asked.

‘You were going to tell me about strange comings and goings.’

‘Well, I am! Oh, sir, what is your name?’

‘Sir Hugh Corbett, I’m the King’s emissary.’

‘Well, you see, Sir Hugh, I often daydream, particularly in the refectory; I never finish my food! So, I’m given tasks, little punishments. I hate leaves!’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Ranulf asked.

‘Leaves,’ Sister Fidelis repeated. ‘Because I don’t eat my food quickly enough, when the other novices go to recreation, I have to sweep the yard. I’m given a thick, heavy apron which scores my neck and a broom that’s far too heavy. I’m told to sweep the cobbled yard which divides our refectory from Lady Madeleine’s house.’

‘I don’t like leaves either,’ Corbett told her. ‘And, I promise you, I’ll have a word with Lady Madeleine not to punish you so rigorously.’

‘Oh, would you, sir, and would you also mention Lady Johanna’s ferrule?’

‘For the love of God!’ Ranulf whispered.

‘The leaves?’ Corbett asked.

‘Well, one night, I think it was on the eve of St Matthew.’ Her fingers flew to her lips. ‘Or was it the feast of St Cornelius?’

‘You were sweeping leaves in the yard?’

‘Yes. I went into a corner when it was growing dark and no one would see me. I’d stolen a piece of marchpane from the refectory and my fingers were cold. Anyway, I ate the marchpane. I was very cross because the novices were in their house and all the other sisters were enjoying themselves. Suddenly.’ Her head came forward and Corbett nearly jumped. ‘Suddenly,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘I saw a man, cowled and cloaked, cross the yard.’

‘You are sure it wasn’t one of the sisters?’ Corbett asked.

‘They don’t wear spurs which clink nor do they carry swords! They certainly don’t walk with a swagger. Anyway, he enters Lady Madeleine’s house. Oh, I say to myself, what goes on here? In he goes, just opens the door. Now downstairs is her own refectory and chambers; upstairs is her own bedchamber. No one ever goes up there! I put the broom down and stole across the yard. I looked through the window but saw no one there.’