Paul Doherty - Song of a Dark Angel

'But the ships' captains – they would have to be involved!' Gurney exclaimed.

'It's a thriving trade,' Corbett said. 'There's many a captain willing to engage in this lucrative business as it's so easy. No questions asked, no duty to pay and nobody to object.'

'The victims could,' Nettler whimpered. It was his only attempt to defend himself.

'Have you ever tried to escape from a sea captain who's paid good silver for you? From a brothel in Marseilles or Salerno, or from an Ottoman harem? And, if you do escape, where can you go? If those who own you don't track you down and kill you, others will. How can a girl from Hunstanton walk from Marseilles to Dieppe? She doesn't know a word of the language, and, if she did manage to tell her story, who would believe her? Our friends here would simply say that she had jumped ship or, tired of her religious vocation, had decided to further her fortunes elsewhere. And, even if she was believed, it might take years to prove. By then, Master Joseph would have changed his name again and moved on to some other part of this country or anywhere in Christendom. God save us, Sir Simon, you know how long it takes to obtain justice simply over a piece of cloth!'

'So, what went wrong?' Gurney asked.

'I went wrong.' Blanche turned, her face white with anger. 'And Sir Hugh Corbett is correct. Look at me, Sir Simon. I am too ashamed to go home and, if I did, who would believe me? And why should I bring shame on my parents? I joined the Pastoureaux. This bastard here, this hell-hound, negotiated my passage abroad. But I was fortunate.' Blanche swallowed hard. 'On board ship, I overheard the captain talking to the first mate. He didn't know I was hiding in the shadow of the stern castle, crouching like a dog, listening to my future.'

She went across and spat at Master Joseph.

'They talked about me as if I was a piece of merchandise. I had had my suspicions, just vague ones, because of the way the captain would look at me sometimes, but I dismissed them as impure thoughts.' Her voice broke slightly as she stared at Corbett. 'Anyway, it was autumn and a fierce storm grew worse and the ship was forced to enter the Thames. I jumped ship near Queenshithe. Anyone from Norfolk is a good swimmer and I swam ashore.' Blanche laced her fingers together. 'At first I begged. The friars and some of the nuns were good.' She shrugged. 'But there are many hungry mouths in London. One night a sailor tried to take me. He was drunk. I stole his silver and bought myself some new clothes. Then I met a merchant in Cheapside.' She lowered her head. 'In a few months I had earned enough silver to travel back to Bishop's Lynn. I was too ashamed to go home. As I have said, who would have believed me? But I wanted vengeance. I'd have earned enough money to hire someone to kill this demon and his familiar!' Blanche played with the hem of her sleeve. 'One of my clients was a goldsmith. Through him I arranged for money to be sent to my family. And I got a message to Marina. I gave it to a pedlar. I promised him more coins if he came back and faithfully described both Gilbert and the old oak tree.' Blanche slumped down on a stool. 'I shouldn't have done that,' she added weakly. 'Marina tried to escape.'

Corbett walked across to Master Joseph and, bringing his hand back, struck him violently across the face.

'You deserved that,' he said quietly. He struck again, drawing blood from the man's lips. 'And that's for Marina, whom you undoubtedly murdered!'

'That's a lie!' Master Joseph screamed..

'No, it isn't, you bastard!' Corbett hissed.

He went over and looked down at Philip Nettler. 'You are going to hang, you know, both of you?'

Nettler only whimpered in reply. Corbett crouched next to him.

'You'll hang,' he whispered. 'And when the king's justices hear about this they'll demand a most thorough investigation. You will be tortured until you tell us everything – the captains of the ships, destinations, where you have hidden away your ill-gotten gains. And only when they have finished with you will judgement be carried out? He killed Marina didn't he?'

Nettler nodded.

'Shut up, you whoreson!' Master Joseph yelled, and lunged at his erstwhile lieutenant.

But the chains that linked his ankles and the manacles on his wrists prevented any movement. The Pastoureaux leader fell to his knees. Ranulf dragged him to his feet.

'You killed that girl!' he said softly. 'She was fleeing from you. Fleeing across that mist-shrouded moor. God knows where to. Her family? The manor here? You knew something was wrong and you caught up with her. You raped and strangled the poor girl!' Ranulf pulled him closer. 'Perhaps my master may be good to me,' he whispered. 'Perhaps I'll be given the duty of escorting you down to London!'

Master Joseph's face broke into a sneer.

'You mustn't forget about Gilbert,' he jibed.

'Oh, yes, poor Gilbert.' Corbett left Nettler and came to stand beside Ranulf. 'You took that murdered girl's pathetic necklace and went to Gilbert's hut. By then the poor lad and his mother had fled, fearful of the whispered allegations against them. You threw the necklace down and coolly walked back to the Hermitage. You condemned an old woman to death by drowning and, if it hadn't been for God's grace, her son to death by hanging.' Corbett looked over at the white-faced Gurney. 'Don't you remember, Sir Simon, when you held the court in the parish church? Master Joseph abruptly left. I thought it was strange for a religious leader to forsake, so quickly, the corpse of one of his community. But, there again, why should he care? Marina wasn't worth a penny to him any more.'

'And how did you discover the truth?' Gurney asked.

'It was the money left to Robert the reeve that started me thinking. Why should some mysterious benefactor give money to a goldsmith in Bishop's Lynn for a poor reeve in a fishing village?' Corbett walked back and put his hands gently on Blanche's shoulder. 'Your father probably half-suspects.' He looked over his shoulder. 'Sir Simon, I am finished with these demons. You have room for them in your dungeons?'

Gurney nodded.

'Hold them there, but keep them separate. Nettler here may turn king's evidence and throw himself on the royal mercy. He may give us the dates, names, seasons. If he does, who knows what clemency we may recommend?'

Nettler looked up, a sly look in his eyes. Master Joseph swore and tried to lash out at Nettler, but fell with a crash of chains to the floor. Gurney was half-way to the door to call his retainers when Master Joseph struggled to his feet.

'Wait!' he shouted.

Corbett turned, eyebrows raised.

'A full and frank confession, Master Joseph?'

'Piss off!'

'What then?'

'Information.'

Corbett walked closer. 'What about?' 'The treasure.'

'What treasure?' Corbett asked.

The man raised his manacled hand to wipe the blood from his mouth and stared maliciously at Corbett. 'First, give me your word.'

'There'll be no pardon for you, Master Joseph, or Hubert Mugwell, whatever you wish to call yourself! You'll hang!'

'Oh, I don't worry about myself. I'll skip to the scaffold. Death doesn't worry me. I am going to hell where I'll dance with the devil and wait for you, Corbett!'

'What then?' . 'I have a house, a woman and child at Lothbury. You'd eventually find out about them. They are not to be harmed or their goods seized.'

'That's where I have seen you!' Ranulf suddenly interrupted. 'Years ago. In London, in a brothel on the stew-side in Southwark. What did you call yourself? Some French name? Oh, yes, Alphonse. I was there. You were the Master of Revels.' Ranulf walked closer. 'I never forget a face, but I couldn't clearly remember' – Ranulf smiled apologetically at Corbett – 'because the memories of that evening are sweet. How many names have you had?'