Paul Doherty - Prince of Darkness

'Nonsense!' the old nun replied in her quivering voice. 'The Lady Prioress, as well as Dame Agatha, tasted them. No harm befell them,' she added wistfully, as if she would have liked that to have happened.

'But the lady's mind,' Corbett persisted. 'She was melancholic?'

'Oh, yes, poor thing. Deserted by her lover, she pined for him.'

'You think her death was an accident?'

'It may well have been. The hall was dark, and you have seen how steep the stairs are. I am always complaining about them.'

'You saw the lady's body?'

'Yes, yes. She looked as if she was asleep except for the bruise on her neck and the savage twist to her head.'

'But you don't think it was an accident, do you? How could a lady fall downstairs? Even in the dark, she must have known them well.'

The old nun wetted her lips and leaned closer.

'You are correct. There can only be one conclusion,' she whispered. She leaned so close their heads almost touched. 'Suicide,' she hissed.

Corbett's heart sank in despair. Not the same old theory!

'Then why was she cloaked and hooded?' he asked. 'Surely someone else would have heard her cry or the noise of her fall? After all, both you and the late Sister Martha were here.'

'Oh, yes.' The nun leaned back triumphantly. 'But we went for our sleep. We always do. One of the lay sisters brings us some food. Anyway, this building's old, it groans and creaks all the time.'

Corbett bit his lip in despair. If they were unable to hear Lady Eleanor fall, how could they be so sure no one entered the convent building? But did that matter? Lady Eleanor would hardly let anyone slip into her room.

'Yet the hood on her head was not disturbed?' he asked despairingly.

The nun's eyes narrowed and Corbett sensed any closer questioning would arouse suspicion.

'Oh,' Dame Elizabeth snapped, I don't know why people keep gossiping about that This place is dank and cold. On an autumn evening it's quite customary for a lady to dress against the chill.'

'And you saw her?' he asked smilingly. 'You and Sister Martha, God rest her soul.'

'That's right. Dame Martha was here in this room. She always was, God rest her. We used to sit and watch the ' sisters getting ready for Compline.' She pointed to the window. 'Over there. Now -' Dame Elizabeth squirmed in her chair and popped a sugared sweetmeat into her mouth so fast Corbett hardly saw it '- we were sitting there and we saw Lady Eleanor pass. She was dressed in a cloak and hood, walking as if to go behind the church. We called out and she turned, shouting she was going for a walk, and waved at us.'

'You're sure of that?'

'Of course. She turned and waved her hand.' 'And Dame Martha saw that?' 'Oh. yes.'

'And Dame Martha was your friend?'

'Well, I helped the poor thing. She was a yeoman's daughter, you know,' she added patronisingly. 'Who?'

'Dame Martha: her education was incomplete so I would often help her. She still had a great deal to learn about the spiritual life and I was only too willing to assist' The old nun shook her head. 'I was always telling her she needed to mortify herself, pray more.'

'And now she is dead?'

'Yes, God rest her. I found her body.'

Corbett leaned forward.

'How did it happen?'

'Well, the old dear's mind had turned. She wanted to see the Prioress, said she knew something about Lady Eleanor's death. I told her she should bathe, prepare herself well.' She smiled thinly. 'Dame Martha was not particular in her personal habits.'

'What did she know about Lady Eleanor's death?'

'Oh, she talked about something she had seen. "Sinistra non dextra", she kept chanting. "The left not the right!" Silly old thing! I don't know what she meant so don't ask me. Anyway, I thought she was a long time bathing so I went over. The chamber door was unlocked and I went in.' The old nun paused in mock sorrow. 'Dame Martha was in the bath, her legs sticking out like two thin sticks, her face under the water.'

'Did you notice anything untoward?'

'No, nothing, except I nearly slipped when running out of the room. There was a trail of water right to the door.'

'Anything else?'

'No,' she snapped. 'Why should there be?'

Corbett shook his head sympathetically and neatly turned the conversation back to the hoof of an elk and the blood of the weasel before rising, bidding farewell, and making the most solemn assurances that if Dame Elizabeth would be so gracious as to welcome him, he would definitely call again.

Closing the door on the old nun's grateful acceptance of his offer, Corbett strode back to the top of the stairs and with one look dismissed her vapid outpourings. If the Lady Eleanor had committed suicide there was no need to throw herself downstairs. A fall from a window or even over the balustrade of this gallery would have been just as effective. Corbett went along the darkened galleries to Lady Eleanor's chamber these were large rooms next to each other, occupying one side of the convent house. They were unlocked but he found nothing of interest as they had already been stripped of all furniture and hangings. He sighed and tiptoed downstairs. He'd hoped Dame Agatha was waiting but glimpsed only a grey-garbed lay sister scurrying past the foot of the stairs. Corbett walked slowly towards the main door.

'Master Clerk!'

Corbett allowed himself a half smile before he turned.

'What is it, Dame Agatha?'

'You found Dame Elizabeth well?'

'I did.'

'Good.'

Corbett noticed the colour high in the woman's cheeks. 'It's just that we have so few visitors,' she flustered. Corbett walked back.

I feel sorry for you, Madam, locked up in the presence of death. I can only imagine your grief and loneliness.'

'There are celebrations tomorrow,' she boldly interrupted. 'At the local church. It's harvest time. I have to visit Father Reynard for altar breads – he always insists that we use the unleavened wafers he bakes himself. The roads are -'

'Madam,' Corbett smoothly intervened, I would consider it an honour to accompany you.'

Dame Agatha led him silently back to the guest house which stood on the other side of the nunnery and showed him into a pleasant, comfortable chamber with a few sticks of furniture. Ranulf was already unpacking their saddle bags. Dame Agatha left them there saying a kitchener would bring across food as their rules forbade visitors in the refectory. Corbett sat on his cot and pulled off his boots. He waited to speak until he heard the nun's soft footsteps fade into the distance.

'So, Ranulf, what do you think?'

His servant slumped on the bed opposite him.

'For ladies concerned about the next world,' Ranulf tartly answered, 'they seem very interested in this one. Hell's teeth, Master! They live as grandly as any princess.'

'And the Lady Eleanor's death?'

'I think they are all lying, and they know it The Lady Prioress may be an arrogant cow but she is also a very frightened one.'

'Anything else?'

'Those two Sub-prioresses – Dames Frances and Catherine – they detest each other. Did you notice they hardly exchanged a glance?' Ranulf grimaced. 'And you, Master?'

'I believe the Lady Eleanor did not fall downstairs. If she had, her body would have been a mass of bruises whereas, apart from on her neck, I noticed only one contusion on her leg. She was killed elsewhere and her corpse dumped at the bottom of the stairs to make it appear an accident. I also think,' he added softly, 'the old nun was murdered in her bath because she knew something, though God knows how I am going to prove what really happened.'

Corbett lay on the bed trying to sort out the jumble of facts in his head. A servant brought them up bowls of hot broth, small white loaves and a dish of cold pheasant garnished with spices and a mess of vegetables. After they had eaten, Ranulf went for a walk, coming back still praising the wealth and luxury he had seen. Corbett stared up at the ceiling. He wondered how Maeve was doing. Would she look after herself? Could she manage the reeve and bailiff? Tomorrow the manor court would meet: John the Heywood was petitioning for leave to marry his daughter to a man from the next village. William Attwood wanted to send his son to school. Hik the warrener had broken the ordinance about using the manor mill and had ground his own com at home. Robert Arundel had stolen a yard of land from his neighbour. Could Maeve deal with all these problems? Outside it fell dark. Corbett's eyes grew heavy. He heard the yip-yip of a hunting fox, together with the sounds of Ranulf preparing for bed.