Paul Doherty: Satan in St Mary

"I am Simon, " the boy lisped. "I am told you wish to speak to me. "

Corbett leaned over. "No, " he replied softly, "but Lawrence Duket did!"

The terror in the boy's eyes was something almost tangible and he would have jumped to his feet if Corbett had not held his arm tight and whispered reassuringly that he was Duket's friend and meant him no harm.

"What happened to Duket?" Corbett whispered. "Why did he die? He was murdered wasn't he? Tell me please. I can protect you as well as bring his murderers to justice. "

Simon stared at Corbett, biting his lower lip and blinking back the tears. He started to speak then bowed his head and nodded. Corbett waited until the boy raised his tear-stained face. "They murdered him, " he whispered.

"Who?" rasped Corbett.

"The Dark Ones, hooded and masked, led by a giant and a dwarf, " Simon answered softly. "They floated up the church. There was no sound. They simply picked him up, moved the chair and hung him up. " The youth wiped the tears from his face with the sleeve of his jerkin and looked quickly round.

"I do not know where they came from or where they went, " he continued hurriedly. "They must have come from Hell. Not a sound, not a word. " He looked wide-eyed at Corbett. "And Lawrence did not even utter a word! Why?" he asked tearfully.

"How do you know this?" Corbett asked, trying to calm his own pounding excitement.

"I was there, " the boy replied. "I fled to the church early in the afternoon. I got in through a small window as the priest was at the door. "

"What about the Watch?" Corbett asked.

"They had not arrived, " Simon continued. "I went over to Lawrence and comforted him but he told me to hide. I lay down behind a bench in the sanctuary and fell asleep and did not wake till it was dark. There was a candle burning. I was going to get up when They suddenly appeared. So I hid. I was terrified and kept hidden till morning when the priest and Watch forced open the door. In the confusion I fled. "

Corbett thought of the piece of fabric caught on the briar bush and nodded. "You must know more, " he insisted. "Giant? Dwarf? Who were these people?"

The boy shook his head. "I must go, " he whispered hoarsely.

"Tomorrow, " Corbett urged. "Meet me tomorrow, just before Prime, outside the church of St. Katherine's by the Tower. " The boy nodded, got up, smiled falsely and minced away.

Corbett and Ranulf sat for a while longer then, pulling their hoods closer, got up and left, their shadowy guide letting them out into the street. Corbett was pleased to be out under the stars and gulped in the fresh air to purge and clean the evil humours of that cellar. Then, satisfied that they were alone and not being followed, they turned and made their way back to the Tower. Ranulf had scarcely followed the conversation between Corbett and the boy in the cellar and so pestered Corbett with a series of questions, but then gave up when all he received were grunts and evasive answers.

Corbett was excited by what the boy had said though he realized he had only embellished what he suspected already. Duket had been murdered by more than one person. But the rest? Who were they? The Giant? The Dwarf? Figures in black who glided up the church without a sound? How did they get in? Corbett was still trying to find solutions when they reached the postern gate of the Tower and a sleepy, grumbling guard let them in. They made their way to their new quarters, Corbett told Ranulf to shut up and stop nagging him and, rolling himself in his cloak, turned to the grey granite wall and willed himself to sleep, to forget the exhaustion and terrors of the day by thinking of the soft, satin silk body of Alice.

Corbett went along to the meeting-place the following day after telling Ranulf to stay and rest from the previous day's labours. He made his way out of the Tower postern gate and walked the short distance to the church of St. Katherine. As he approached, the bells of the church were tolling for Prime.

He expected to find the place deserted and was surprised to see a small crowd gathered outside the porch of the church. He broke into a run, dreading what he might see when he arrived. The crowd parted to let him through and he almost fell over the body of the young man whom he had spoken to the previous evening. Dressed in the same clothes, his long blond hair still curled and pressed, the only difference was the long red gash in his throat and the blood which saturated the front of his tunic. Simon was lying there sprawled on the ground, arms and legs stretched out, his sightless eyes staring up into the sky.

"What happened?" Corbett asked one of the bystanders, a small, brown, wrinkled woman with straggly grey hair escaping from underneath her hood.

"I don't know, " she replied. "A group of us were making our way into the city to the market. We found the body here. There was no one about. Someone has sent a message to the Coroner and the death crier. " She peered closely at Corbett, as old women are wont to do. "Why do you ask? Do you know him?"

Corbett shook his head. "No, I thought I did but I was mistaken. " He turned and slowly walked away, realizing that when he had visited the Blackbird Tavern the previous evening he must have been followed. Somebody must have seen him talking to the boy and decided to follow him.

Corbett suddenly felt tired and angry. Here he was, a king's clerk going about the King's lawful business, yet he had been blocked at every turn, attacked twice and now, whoever it was, had taken the life of this pathetic young man. He felt a deep sense of depression, he was fumbling about in the dark like a traveller who has lost his way, and was now up to his waist in a morass. Somebody knew something. Somebody would have to pay for that long red angry gash in that young man's throat. But who? Was it Ranulf? Could he be trusted? Had he been suborned or bribed by Duket's murderers? Corbett abruptly dismissed the idea as fantastic and unworthy of Ranulf's help over the last few days. After all, he reasoned, it was Ranulf who had brought him to meet the young man so it was highly unlikely that he would allow the meeting to take place and then arrange the boy's murder. The only person Corbett suspected was guilty of some crime or complicity in a crime was Roger Bellet, the Rector of Saint Mary Le Bow. The sinister priest who always hinted that he knew more than he was telling. Corbett felt a surge of anger and frustration through him when he thought of Bellet's sardonic smile and sarcastic comments. Corbett decided that he had been baited long enough. Burnell had given him complete power in this matter. It was time he used it, to his own advantage.

Fifteen

On his return to the Tower, Corbett demanded an audience with its constable, Sir Edward Swynnerton. The old soldier met him in his quarters on the first floor of the White Tower. He listened carefully to Corbett's request and sorrowfully shook his head. "I cannot do that, Master Clerk, " he replied. "I cannot simply arrest a priest and detain him, even question him, without giving a reason or a warrant from the King! Can you imagine the Church's reaction to that? A rector of a London parish church taken from his house and put into the Tower! I could be excommunicated, lose the favour of the King and be removed from office. No, " he concluded. "I cannot do it. "

"But this man may be a traitor, " Corbett argued fiercely. "He may be responsible for murder, for plotting treason against the King. For being involved in black magic. Surely no court, church or secular would agree with that?"

"That may well be so, " Swynnerton replied. "But you say 'may'. You have no proof. You have no warrant and that is the difference!"

Corbett restrained his temper. He realized that his anger would only alienate this old soldier unaccustomed already to taking orders from a clerk. "What happens, " he said slowly, "if I am right? If this priest is a criminal in both the eyes of the Church and of the Crown? Let us say he is involved in villainy and this latter comes to light. How can we, " and he emphasized this word to include both himself and the constable. "How can we then justify not taking precautions now?" He saw doubt creep into the old man's eyes and was satisfied knowing that his cause was not utterly lost. He watched as the old soldier turned and crossed to one of the arrow-slit windows overlooking the inner ward and let him think for a while before he returned to the attack.