Paul Doherty - Prince of Darkness

Corbett felt pity but resolved not to weaken

'If the King's serjeants-at-law or the lawyers in King's Bench heard of this,' he replied, 'they would say you were a traitor. It is treason, Father, to correspond with the King's enemies beyond the seas.'

I am no spy and no traitor,' the priest said quietly. 'Have you ever seen a woman yoked to her husband pulling a plough because they can't afford an ox or a horse, while their baby lies under some hedgerow, wrapped in rags, sucking a crust and whining because it is too weak with hunger to cry?' His eyes flared. I tell you this, Clerk, one day the poor will rise and there will be a terrible reckoning. Tell me, what would you have done in my place?'

Corbett leaned across and put his hand on the priest's elbow, glad that Father Reynard didn't flinch.

I suppose,' he replied, I would have done what you did, Father.' He withdrew his hand and sipped the watered wine. I know you are no spy or traitor, but de Craon is dangerous. He has no morality, no God, no code of chivalry except service to a French King who sees himself as the new Charlemagne. If de Craon has spun his web round you, then you are in danger, Father.'

The priest made a rude sound with his mouth and looked away.

'Father, de Craon suspects I know the identity of his informant He will strike against me and may well try to hurt you. Fear nothing from our King, I can get you letters of safe conduct, but you must go into hiding for a while. You should not stay here!'

Father Reynard shook his head and looked up, the fanaticism gleaming in his eyes.

I am the good shepherd,' he replied, 'not the hireling. I will not flee because the wolf is on the prowl.' He smiled and relaxed. 'Anyway, Corbett, you forget I was once a soldier.'

Corbett shook his head.

'I cannot force you, Father, but heed my warnings.' He paused. 'What does de Craon know?'

'What I told him – that the Lady Eleanor died.' The priest smiled. 'Died in the most suspicious circumstances. You know, Clerk, I have seen many a corpse. A woman doesn't fall down steep stairs then lie at the bottom as if she is fast asleep.'

'Anything else, Father?'

'No. What I know, you know.'

Corbett rose.

'Then I bid you goodnight, and warn you to take care.'

Father Reynard looked away, dismissing his warning with a smile. Corbett went out through the deserted churchyard. The sun was now sinking, a fiery ball of light in the west, its dying rays lighting up the greens and russet browns of the graveyard. Somewhere, high in one of the elm trees, a lonely bird sang its own hymn for the dead. Corbett looked around. Father Reynard had said that the corpses of the young woman and her companion were buried beneath an old elm tree. Who were they? he wondered. What secrets did they hold? He stared around and he wondered. A silent, peaceful place but he had a premonition of something terrible. Was he being watched? He was used to the feeling in the dark, winding streets of London, but here near God's house? A twig snapped. Corbett spun round, looking beyond the priest's house.

'Is there anyone there?' he called softly.

No sound, nothing but the gentle flurry of leaves as the wind lifted and scattered them like pieces of gold across the grass. Corbett strained his ears and grinned. The evening breeze also brought the sounds of singing and he recognised the lusty bellowing of Ranulf.

He went back through the wicket gate, crossed the darkening village green. As he had guessed, Ranulf had led Maltote into temptation Both were standing, foaming tankards of ale in their hands, in the middle of the group of mourners around the makeshift coffin, leading them in raucous song about the fate of an innkeeper's young daughter. Corbett joined them and waited for the tankards to empty before good-naturedly bullying Ranulf into collecting their horses and making their way back on to the deserted track to Godstowe.

Of course, Ranulf and Maltote were now firm friends, the servant innocently enquiring whether the messenger ever played dice? A game, he confessed, in which he was deeply interested but had very little skill. Corbett was about to alert Maltote to the truth when he tensed. Something or someone was following them, treading through the trees on the side of the track. He reined in his horse and gestured to Ranulf to keep silent He stared into the green darkness behind them. Someone was watching from the shadows of the forest.

'What is it Master?' Ranulf whispered.

'Nothing,' Corbett murmured. 'But when I lower my hand, ride as fast as you can!'

He half turned, dropped his hand and kicked his horse into a gallop. Ranulf and Maltote following suit just as the two crossbow quarrels came whirring out of the darkness, skimming the tops of their heads. They needed no second bidding but rode as fast as they could, not pausing until they thundered through the half-open gate of Godstowe Priory, putting the porter into such serious agitation he appeared almost sober for once.

'Close the gates!' Corbett rasped. 'Bolt them, and let no one through without my orders!'

He suddenly looked round and remembered the two retainers.

When did they leave us?' he asked Ranulf.

'At Woodstock, Master. They said their duty was to guard Godstowe Priory.'

'Is that so?' Corbett retorted. 'Then, Master Porter,' he raised his voice so the two soldiers hiding in the porter's house could hear him, 'tell them I will check that they are carrying out their duties. If I smell so much as a drop of ale on their breaths, they will answer to the King's Provost Marshal!'

He left Ranulf with the horses and walked round to Lady Amelia's chamber. He found the Lady Prioress closeted with Dames Frances and Catherine.

'Master Corbett!' She rose from behind the desk, her face full of surprise. 'Do come in.' She ushered him to a window seat. 'More danger, more problems?'

'On the way back from Woodstock we were attacked.'

The Lady Prioress drew her imperious brows together.

'Outlaws? Wolfshead?'

I would like to think that, My Lady,' Corbett tactfully replied. 'But I think they were sent to kill me.'

He gazed at the two Sub-prioresses who were staring fixedly at him. Ranulf was right, he thought Dame Catherine did have a lecherous look in her eyes.

'Lady Amelia, I have a request. Does the phrase "Noli me tangere" mean anything to you?'

'Do not touch me!' The Lady Prioress grinned mischievously. 'A family motto, Master Corbett. And hardly suitable to a nunnery. Why should it mean anything to me?' She shook her head.

'In which case,' replied Corbett, I must crave your indulgence. ' He looked across at the hour candle on the table. 'Soon the sisters will gather for Compline, I believe?'

'Of course.'

'May I speak to them?'

'About what?'

'About the motto. Whether they have heard it or not.'

Lady Amelia glanced at the Sub-prioresses and shrugged.

'It's most uncommon,' she murmured.

'The King would be pleased,' Corbett added.

'In a little while then, Master Corbett. Perhaps you will take refreshment first?'

Corbett agreed, allowing the Lady Prioress to serve him a full cup of malmsey whilst chattering about everyday matters and his recent trip to Woodstock. A bell tolled, the sign for Compline, and Lady Amelia led him down through the darkened cloister out across the grass to the church. Corbett sat on the same bench he had occupied the previous Sunday watching the nuns file in. At last, when all the stalls were full, Lady Amelia gestured to the cantor not to begin the usual psalms and caused a stir when she herself rose and swept up to the lectern.

'Sisters in Christ,' she began, 'tonight we have a change in the regular order of our routine. Master Hugh Corbett, Clerk and Special Emissary from our King, wishes to address you. He has a question which on your loyalty to God, the King and this Order, you must answer if you can.'