Paul Doherty - Satan in St Mary

"That is all!" Ranulf glared at him. "I risked my neck going into both houses. For what? A dirty piece of parchment which you immediately toss away!"

Corbett smiled. "No, I am grateful. Look, " he handed the youth a few coins. "I want you to get something to eat and, at the same time, find out something for me. " He raised his hand to quell the expected objection from Ranulf. "It is not as dangerous as the last but more important. You say you know the underworld?" He saw the look of perplexity in Ranulf's face, "The criminals of this city, " he explained.

Ranulf nodded, warily watching this strange clerk. "Good, " Corbet continued: "Then I would like you to find out two things. First, a few evenings ago two murderers, professional assassins tried to kill me a few yards from this house. They were not 'roaring boys' or gutter bullies but, as I have said, skilled assassins specially hired. I would like you to find out who hired them and why? Secondly, my young friend, if I was attracted, " he glared at Ranulf, "and I am definitely not, but if I was attracted to young men and boys, where would I go to in this city?"

Corbett watched with quiet amusement the scared look on Ranulf's face. "Do not worry, " Corbett said softly. "I am not that way inclined and, even if I was, you would have no cause to worry!"

"I am not worried, " Ranulf was almost shouting. "I'm frightened. What will happen to me if I'm caught in such a place? If the church does not burn me, my friends might and I do not want to become the laughing-stock in every alleyway in the city!" He glared fiercely at Corbett, who smiled sweetly back.

"Ranulf, I have every confidence in you. " He looked towards the door. "Now you had better go!"

The young man pulled a face, rose and clumped towards the door.

"Oh, Ranulf, " Corbett asked. "What did you do when you broke into a house? Go barefoot?"

The reformed housebreaker grinned. "You are dull in some things, " he replied. "We wore mufflers. Rags tied round our boots. Everyone knows that!"

"Except me, " Corbet smiled. "Well, you had better go!" Ranulf went carefully down the stairs, cursing and muttering but secretly wondering at the strange habits of Master Corbett. Behind him he could hear the faint notes of the flute, soft and sad, telling of dreams gone, lost or shattered.

Twelve

Ranulf did not return that day nor the next morning when Corbett, washed, barbered and dressed in his best robes left to see Alice at The Mitre. Corbett thought and dreaded that she might not be there, but she was, fresh as a May morning in a dark blue dress, with a copper chain slung low round her narrow waist and a simple gold necklace round her throat. Her hair was as soft as silk and he smelt the perfume as she flung her arms round his neck, her body soft and sinuous against him. He was relieved to see that the burly threatening Peter was not about and would have taken her directly upstairs but she protested most demurely, saying that she was busy, it was not the right time. So he accepted her excuses and sat in the kitchen while she served him wine and sweetmeats, chattering all the time, fending off his eager hands and parrying his questions. Instead, she asked how his investigations were going and laughed when he grimaced, digging his face deep into the winecup. "I hear you have a bodyguard?" she pouted. "Should I be jealous?"

Corbett stared at her and then laughed. "No, he is just a boy, " he replied. "A messenger, a carrier of goods. " Alice smiled and passed on to other matters. Corbett watched, aching for want of her as she busied herself about the kitchen in everyday chores. He sensed, for all her happiness, a tension as if her gaiety was forced. He was also puzzled, troubled by something she had said or left unsaid, but could not decide what it was. At length, he decided to leave; Alice was evidently too busy and he began to feel that he was impeding her. So he rose, embraced her passionately and left the tavern for the sunlit street of Cheapside.

Restless and ill-at-ease, he pushed his way through the crowds down past Cheapside and into Poultry to the house of his banker, the goldsmith. The front of the shop was down and the stall pulled out to display a fine range of products. Apprentices busied themselves about, taking privileged customers within to view more precious objects while others kept an eye on the not so privileged. The goldsmith was inside but came out when Corbett sent a message in with one of the apprentices. He looked troubled and evasive. "You want me, Master Corbett?"

"Yes, and some information, Master Goldsmith. "

Guisars looked round to see if anyone had heard Corbett before beckoning him into the shop. "What is it?" he whispered. "What do you want?"

Corbett stared into the frightened man's eyes. "Duket? Crepyn?" The man's eyes fell away.

"Crepyn, " he answered slowly, "was a well-known member of the Populares party. He kept the coffers of the party and often asked us for money. Protection money to safeguard our houses. Some paid, many did not. Duket may well have refused. "

"But it was Crepyn who was murdered, " Corbett pointed out and the merchant looked at him.

"Was it, Master Clerk?" he replied hoarsely. "Crepyn deserved what he got but Duket? Suicide?" he shook his head. "Never!" he said emphatically.

"Is there more?" Corbett asked softly. The goldsmith again shook his head and pleaded with his eyes for the clerk to go.

It was late by the time Corbett reached his lodgings to find that Ranulf had returned, exhausted, dirty and fast asleep on the floor wrapped in his cloak. Corbett let him sleep a little longer while he lay on his bed and thought about Alice's lovely, naked body, her long, black hair flowing round her like a veil. If only he could search out and lay to rest the anxiety in his heart. Corbett heard Ranulf stir, so he swung his legs off the bed and shook him awake.

Ranulf yawned and woke, scratching his head as he peered at Corbett through puffy, sleep-laden eyes. "Master Clerk, " he yawned, stretched himself and shook himself fully awake. "Master Corbett, " he urged. "You must be careful. You must not go out by yourself as you did today!"

Corbett looked at him. "Tell me why, Ranulf! Tell me now!"

"Have you ever heard of the Pentangle?" Ranulf asked.

"No, nothing, except the drawing you brought to me a day ago from Crepyn's house. Why?"

"I know very little myself, " Ranulf replied, "except that it's a secret society here in London involved in the Black, er Black… "

"Arts? Magic?" Corbett testily interrupted.

"Yes, that's right. There's many here in London. Usually a few fools but this is different. Very secretive. Very powerful. They are led by someone called 'The Hooded One'!" Ranulf stared pityingly at Corbett.

"Anyway, they are the ones who have marked you down. Those assassins who almost did for you the other evening. They were hired by this group. You were very lucky. It's because you not only escaped but killed one of them that has provoked a lot of interest in what you call the criminal frat…, criminal… "

"Fraternity!" Corbett impatiently interrupted.

"Yes, fr… fraternity. Anyway, they may well try again. "

Ranulf looked quizzically at his master expecting to see fear, even terror and secretly marvelled at the man's composure. Ranulf had no illusions about what he would do in Corbett's place, a swift journey to the docks to buy an even swifter passage abroad.

Corbett's equanimity, however, was only superficial. He was frightened, more than he had ever been in the thick of the fighting in Wales. Killers were stalking him here in London and they could strike at any time. He looked up at Ranulf. "And the other business?" he asked.

"Much better, " Ranulf replied. "There are a number of places, usually outside the city limits. I found a few but one in particular where Duket himself went. He evidently liked young boys and his favourite works there. Should we go tonight?" Corbett shook his head.