Paul Doherty - Song of a Dark Angel

'Did Monck ever tell you,' Corbett quietly began, 'why he was really here?'

'He said it was because of the Pastoureaux.'

Corbett rose, went across and closed the hall doors. He came back but this time he did not sit down but stared at Gurney, his wife and the sly, secretive face of the physician.

'Lavinius Monck came to Mortlake Manor,' Corbett explained, 'not because of the Pastoureaux but because of more ancient history, the lost treasure of King John.'

Corbett hit his mark. Alice looked up startled. The physician's head went down to conceal his features. Gurney's hand immediately went to his face as if he wished to smooth away his anxious frown. Corbett sat down.

'You knew, didn't you? You knew, or at least you suspected?'

'Aye.' Gurney shrugged. 'Of course I did. As soon as they arrived here, Monck and Lickspittle demanded to search the manorial rolls and court records.'

'Why?' Corbett asked. 'Is there anything there about the lost treasure?'

Gurney shook his head.

'Sir Simon,' Corbett persisted. 'You know the story. Your great-grandfather accompanied King John when he crossed the Wash. He journeyed with the king as far as Swynesford Abbey before returning here. You must have heard the legends about John Holcombe, the guide who may have escaped with some of the treasure. The king is determined to find this treasure. Did Monck tell you why?'

Again Gurney shook his head, but his eyes never left those of Corbett.

'Because some of the plate, which is supposed to lie under the sands of the Wash, has recently surfaced on the London markets. Somebody knows where that treasure is hidden and is already selling it.'

His three listeners sat frozen in their chairs.

'I believe,' Corbett continued, 'that someone in this manor is selling the treasure. I want the truth. Terrible deaths are occurring, horrible murders. Now, Sir Simon, on your allegiance to the king, do you know anything about the treasure?'

'No, he doesn't. But yes, I do!' Selditch sprang to his feet. 'Giles, there's no need!' Gurney said.

The physician rubbed his face with his hands. 'I'd rather tell Corbett than Monck. It's best if charges were not laid against you.'

'Master Selditch!' Gurney ordered. 'Sit down and keep quiet!'

The physician looked at Corbett.

'You'd have found out sooner or later,' he said. 'You, with your sharp eyes and silent ways. I sold the plate in London.' He laughed sourly. 'After all, I am a physician; I go to London regularly to meet friends as well as to purchase goods, those potions and powders that can only be bought there. I was also born in London, a fact you would have soon discovered, so I know the city well.' Selditch's voice was edged with bitterness. 'Especially the pawnbrokers. I was born poor. My parents could ill afford my education, so those tawdry little merchants knew me well.'

'There's no need for this,' Gurney interrupted quietly.

'I am sorry, Sir Simon, there is. Every need.' Selditch took a deep breath. 'Sir Hugh, I entered Sir Simon's household. He proved to be a generous lord. When we left the king's service his home became mine.' The physician paused and stared around the richly furnished hall. 'I became fascinated with the place. I searched every nook and cranny. I read every document in the manorial archives until I discovered Mortlake's great secret.' Selditch looked at Gurney. 'It's best if Corbett sees what we know.'

Gurney quickly agreed. He told his wife to stay in the hall whilst he and Selditch led a bemused Corbett down into the underground passageways. Torches were lit. They continued along the hollow, cavernous passage past Gilbert's cell. Corbett peered through the door's spyhole, but the young man was fast asleep on what appeared to be a most comfortable bed. At the end of the passage, the physician pulled away a large beer barrel revealing a narrow doorway. He took a key from his belt and unlocked the door and they entered a long tunnel. The air was much colder and Corbett was sure he could hear the rumble of the sea. With the physician in front and Gurney behind, Corbett realized how vulnerable he was and wished Ranulf was with him. He put his hand on his dagger and, as the ground underfoot became slippery, wished he had not changed his boots for soft leather buskins. His heart began to pound and the sweat broke out on his brow, for the passageway was narrow, so tight it almost felt as if the walls were closing in on him. Corbett breathed deeply. He fixed his gaze on the spluttering torch Selditch carried and quietly prayed for a speedy end to their journey. Suddenly, Gurney and the physician turned a corner. The passageway became broader and led into an underground chamber. Corbett breathed more easily as Selditch lit the torches fixed in the walls of the cavern. The place flared into light. Selditch began to claw at a pile of boulders and stones in the far corner. Gurney went over to help him and Corbett watched fascinated as they pulled out a long pinewood coffin. Gurney undid the clasps and pushed the coffin forward. Corbett gazed at the yellowing skeleton that lay there. He looked up in surprise.

'Who is this? And what is this?'

He glimpsed a leather pouch at the foot of the coffin. He bent down to pick it up, but Gurney was faster. He plucked it out and held it tightly against his chest.

'Who is this?' Corbett repeated.

The hair on the nape of his neck began to prickle. His hand fell to his dagger.

'Oh, Hugh, Hugh,' Gurney murmured. 'We are not your enemies. We are only frightened of what you might do.' Gurney pointed to the skeleton. 'This is John Holcombe, once a native of Bishop's Lynn. My great-grandfather, Sir Richard Gurney, hired him to lead King John's convoy across the Wash.' Gurney tapped the decaying coffin with the toe of his boot. 'Instead Holcombe took it to its destruction – or at least part of it, the royal treasure train. Apparently, before King John left Wisbech, Holcombe had seen the treasure piled high on sumpter ponies and mules. In the blackness of his soul he devised a murderous plan. The king's convoy was in three parts – the king and the court first, the treasure train and then the foot soldiers. Holcombe was to go in front but on that day he held back. He also, using a heavy mist as his excuse, deliberately delayed the crossing.'

'The rest you know,' Selditch interposed. 'The tides began to sweep in. The treasure's escort panicked. Holcombe rode back. He seized a string of mules and, using his knowledge of the secret paths and routes, escaped with some of the treasure, leaving the rest to be washed away and its guardians drowned.'

Gurney took up the story again. 'Now, when my greatgrandfather reached Swynesford, he began to think about what had happened. He was no fool and, in the last confusing days of King John's reign, he decided to leave the court and hunt Holcombe down. It's a long story.' Gurney played with the leather pouch he held. 'It's all contained in here.'

Corbett held his hand out and Gurney gave him the pouch.

'For you only, Hugh. I don't want that bastard Monck seizing these documents!'

Corbett nodded. 'We'll see,' he murmured. He gestured down at the coffin. 'How did Holcombe end up here?'

'Well, to cut a long story short, my great-grandfather caught him and hanged him on the gallows, the ones you passed on Hunstanton cliffs. Once the flesh was decomposed, he had his corpse placed in a special casket and buried it here.'

'But he told no one?' Corbett asked.

'No, he was ashamed. After all, it was he who had hired Holcombe and he had his enemies. The malicious would whisper that he and Holcombe were accomplices.'

'And what about the treasure?' Corbett asked.

'Ah, that's where the mystery begins. You see, Sir Richard had few sensibilities in the matter. Before he was hanged, Holcombe was tortured in the dungeon you have just passed. He refused to disclose his hiding-place but did admit he'd had an accomplice, a second guide named Alan of the Marsh, the steward here at the manor. According to Holcombe, Alan knew where the treasure was hidden. However, according to my great-grandfather's confession, dictated to his son, this Alan was never found nor the whereabouts of the treasure.'