Paul Doherty - Song of a Dark Angel

'How could that have happened?' Corbett asked.

Selditch pulled a face. 'Monck could have knocked into something before he left, or it could have been caused as he fell from the saddle. It's nothing serious.'

'And any possessions?' Corbett asked.

'Your servant has already taken them.' Selditch smiled bleakly. 'And, before you ask, there was no money. I suspect that Catchpole helped himself.'

Corbett thanked him and then went back to the parchments.

Some were roughly drawn maps of the area very similar to the ones he had seen before. There was also a short memorandum about King John losing his treasure in the Wash and some rough scribblings which proved more interesting. Monck had drawn up a list of questions:

Item – The lights at sea and the lights on the cliff top?

Item – Where could the treasure be hidden? The Hermitage? Or the caves beneath Mortlake Manor?

Item – Is Holcombe buried in the village churchyard?

Item – Where is Alan of the Marsh?

Corbett read on and smiled. There were similar questions about the reeve and the Pastoureaux and it seemed that Monck entertained suspicions of Gurney, Selditch and the sisters of Holy Cross convent. Corbett looked up. 'Alan of the Marsh,' he murmured.

'What's that, Master?'

'Alan of the Marsh,' Corbett said. 'I only found out about him because Gurney told me. So how did Monck know?' He sifted through the documents and found the parchment that gave him his answer. 'Monck may have been half-insane,' he said to Ranulf, 'but he was a good clerk. He found out that Holcombe's sister, Adele, married Alan of the Marsh. Certain property in Bishop's Lynn was handed over as her dowry. The grant, as was customary, was confirmed and included in the sheriff's report to the exchequer. Before he left London, Monck must have gone through the exchequer records and found the entry.'

'So?' Ranulf asked.

'Alan of the Marsh was described as living at Hunstanton,' Corbett explained. 'And that's why Monck came here. Alan of the Marsh was Holcombe's brother-in-law as well as his accomplice. Now, where would Alan be buried? And, more importantly, who are his descendants?'

When Corbett met him in the hall below, Gurney was of little help.

'Don't you think I haven't investigated that?' he said. 'Alan had no descendants. He disappeared about the same time as Holcombe did. Perhaps Father Augustine may be of some assistance? However, the burial, marriage and baptismal records of the church are in some chaos – the previous incumbent was not the most organized of men.'

Corbett left Ranulf and Maltote to sort through the rest of Monck's possessions and, saddling his horse, rode out to Hunstanton. He was hardly made welcome – the villagers gave him dark looks and turned their backs as he passed. Women dragged their ragged-arsed children indoors and the men, coming from the fields for their midday meal, glanced sourly at him and muttered amongst themselves.

Corbett found Father Augustine in a small sacristy beside the high altar. Robert the reeve, who was also the verger, was in attendance. He glowered at Corbett. The priest, though, was welcoming enough.

'How can I help you, Sir Hugh?'

'You have records here of baptisms, deaths, marriages?'

'We have, Sir Hugh. Indeed, we have been trying to put them in order. Why? How can these assist you?'

'I want to trace the name of a villager who lived here almost a hundred years ago. A man – probably fairly prosperous – called Alan of the Marsh.'

'Why?' Robert the reeve came forward, eyes wide, lips tightly pursed.

'Why not?' Corbett replied crossly.

'Because he's my relation. An ancestor of mine.'

'Is he buried here?' Corbett asked.

'No, he isn't. He's not really-' The reeve coughed in embarrassment. 'He's not really a relation, in the blood sense. My great-grandmother was married to him. She came from Bishop's Lynn. But Alan disappeared soon after their marriage. They had no children and my great-grandmother married again. Father Augustine can show you the records.'

The priest had already moved across to a large, iron-bound chest in the far corner of the sacristy and was rummaging among its contents. He brought out a great, leather-bound ledger and some scrolls and laid them out on the sacristy table. Robert the reeve was clearly determined to stay. He rearranged candles, then began to polish the brass censer. Corbett tried to ignore him as Father Augustine opened the great ledger.

'Here,' the priest pointed a bony finger at one entry, the ink fading on the parchment, where a forgotten priest had recorded the marriage of Adele Holcombe to Alan of the Marsh on 8 November 1215.

'That will be the only entry there,' Father Augustine said. He closed the book and turned to a crackling, yellowing scroll. 'This is the burial register for the years 1215 to 1253.' Unrolling the scroll he found the entry recording the burial of Adele Holcombe, now Adele-atte-Reeve, in the graveyard. 'And this' – he offered another scroll – 'is the baptismal record.' He and Corbett read through it together but could find no reference to any children of Alan of the Marsh.

'Was Adele Holcombe's one of the graves disturbed?' Corbett asked.

'No, I don't think so.' Father Augustine looked at the reeve. 'Was it?'

Robert merely shook his head.

'Would it have been easy,' Corbett asked, 'for a woman like Adele to have her marriage to Alan annulled so she could marry again?'

The priest sat down at the table, resting his elbows on the arm of a chair. 'According to canon law, if a husband disappears and the marriage is childless, the wife can ask for an annulment after five years. Adele probably did this. Sir Hugh, I don't wish to be inquisitive, but why this interest in people long dead?'

'I am sorry, Father, for the moment I can't tell you. But,' he continued, 'that means Adele must have known that Alan was dead.'

'Not necessarily. She may simply have found another suitor after five years had elapsed and then applied to the bishop for an annulment. Such cases are quite common.'

Corbett looked at the reeve. 'Master Robert, can I ask you a question? And you may deduce from it what you will. In your family, are there any legends or stories about hidden treasure?'

The reeve stared back pompously, though Corbett caught the flicker of guilt in his eyes.

'Master reeve,' he insisted. 'I suggest you be honest with me.'

The reeve clasped his hands together and stared up at the ceiling. 'There are legends.'

'Legends about King John's treasure?'

The reeve flinched as if Corbett had touched a sensitive spot.

'Master Monck asked the same questions.' 'He came here?' Corbett asked.

'Oh, yes,' Father Augustine replied. 'That's why we found the entries so quickly.' The priest's brow furrowed in puzzlement. 'He came, I think, on the second day after his arrival to make the same enquiries as you. Didn't he tell you, Sir Hugh?'

Corbett smiled wryly. 'Master Monck was a secretive man.'

'Was?' the priest and reeve chorused together.

'This morning Master Catchpole brought his corpse in. He was found on the moors, a crossbow bolt deep in his chest.'

The reeve shuffled his mud-stained boots and looked away.

Did you kill him? Corbett wondered. He recalled the black looks as he went through the village. Had Monck been murdered as a result of a village conspiracy?

'Master reeve,' he said quietly. 'You still haven't answered my question.'

Robert breathed in deeply. 'There are legends all over Norfolk about the old king's treasure. About a false guide called Holcombe whom Sir Richard Gurney hanged on the scaffold on the cliff top. There are also stories that Alan of the Marsh may have been his accomplice.'

'And how do these stories end?'