Paul Doherty: Satan in St Mary

Corbett would ignore such sights but Ranulf gawked at the space and openness of such dwellings, loudly comparing them to the rat-infested runnels of the city. At any other time Corbett would have snapped at Ranulf and urged him on, but he began to find the young man's obvious delight in his changing surroundings a pleasant diversion from brooding on his anxieties about Alice.

Corbett also realized that Ranulf had never seen the countryside at work and began to point out the common meadow where the villagers' cattle stood and the pigs rooting at the edge of a copse or wood. Once he stopped to explain and describe a field being ploughed, oxen pulling a two-wheeled heavy plough guided by a man who ensured the heavy-bladed coulter cut straight and deep. Behind him a man walked with a heavy bag slung round his neck from which he scattered seed into the freshly cut furrow, while young boys dispersed the voracious, diving crows with well-armed shots from their slings. Corbett realized that Ranulf understood very little of what he said but was moved by the intensity of his companion's childlike curiosity.

Eventually, the countryside flattened out and they moved closer to the river on their approach to Oxford. Corbett had to patiently explain to Ranulf that London was not the only city in the kingdom, a fact Ranulf soon absorbed when he approached the town gates and, skirting the threatening castle, entered the city itself. It had been years since Corbett had been in Oxford but little appeared to have changed. The place was thronged with scholars, students, portly officials and learned lecturers, specialists in Theology, Philosophy, Logic and the Scriptures.

Corbett decided to stay at New Hall and obtained, without much difficulty, a sparse whitewashed cell for himself and Ranulf with stabling for his horses at a nearby inn. Corbett, to Ranulf's astonishment, immediately asked for a tub in the Hall's wash-house to be filled with hot water and, when it was ready, stripped and immersed himself in it washing away the grime and dirt of his stay at the Tower and the journey to Oxford. He then insisted that the terrified Ranulf follow suit and by the time Ranulf had finished, the water was as black as charcoal. Corbett ordered the tub emptied, refilled and put the hapless Ranulf, who stood shivering wrapped in a robe, back into the water to finish the task as well as wash some clothes which Corbett flung at him before walking out to visit the Hall library.

After a while, Ranulf, clean and scrubbed, joined him there and Corbett took him round, trying to mollify his companion's evident humiliation and anger at the enforced bathing by showing him the reading carrels and hundred precious books that the library boasted. Each of these was beautifully bound in the softest vellum, chained and padlocked to its stand. Corbett explained the value of each book and the precious care the Hall took over them, hence the warning written on each of their covers. "Wash, lest any touch of dirty finger, on these spotless pages linger. "

Corbett then took him from the chapel where the library was housed to the large vaulted Hall for a simple dinner before returning to the sparseness of their cell to sleep and prepare for the following day's journey to Woodstock. By his snores, Corbett knew that Ranulf was soon asleep and could only envy his companion's carefree attitude while he tossed on his narrow cot agitated with anxiety about Alice, remembering the patrols he had encountered travelling to Oxford, going over, time and again, the evidence he had collected and built up against her and her coven. He was still torn between his love for her and his sense of duty to his task and was trying to resolve the dilemma when he fell into an uneasy dream about Alice, Burnell, the sardonic Bellet, the crackling fires of Smithfield and the gibbet at The Elms, tall stark and black against the sky.

Just after dawn Ranulf shook him awake. He rose, splashed cold water over his face from the brass ewer fixed on the wooden stand of the laver and hurriedly dressed in his best robes brought for the occasion. Corbett inspected a neatly turned out Ranulf, grunted that he was satisfied and they then went down to the Hall's kitchen and buttery to break their fast on ale and rye bread.

Their journey to Woodstock was uneventful; skirting the village, they followed the broad beaten track through a large man-made park to the royal palace of Woodstock. It was the first time that Corbett had been there and he was surprised to find it was no more than an enlarged manor house spilling over the brow of a small hill. The principal building was the main hall whose turret, clear against the skyline, stood over the other buildings, offices and chapels which had been later added to it. The building work had gone beyond the old wall and a new, crenellated curtain wall was in the process of just being completed. The place was almost frenetic with activity; carts full of produce fought their way from the main gate. Courtiers in silken clothes and ermine-topped cloaks strolled arm-in-arm, arrogantly surveying all the coming and going. Officials and clerks, messengers of the Court hurried along rapt in their own smug self-importance, while all around the parkland were the bivouacked knights and soldiers of the royal household and other noble retinues.

Cursing and protesting, Corbett led Ranulf through the crowds to the main gate, the most effective aid being the evil-tempered sumpter pony whose sharp teeth and flailing hooves proved remarkably persuasive. At the huge gate, men-at-arms, spears crossed, blocked the entrance and, beyond, a group of knight bannerets from the royal household stood about in half-armour, swords drawn while Corbett had already noted the royal archers patrolling the parapets above him. Corbett had to use the combined warrants of Burnell and Swynnerton to gain entrance to the inner ward where his horses and any arms he and Ranulf carried were deftly taken away from them before one of the household knights reluctantly agreed to send a servant to look for the steward of the royal household. The latter eventually arrived, huffing and puffing with haste. A small, bald, overdressed man with his chest thrust out so that he waddled into view like some portly pigeon. He introduced himself as Walter Boudon and his little pebble eyes gleamed with recognition when Corbett introduced himself.

"Come!" Boudon snapped his fingers.

"Where to?" Corbett asked.

"The King! The King!" Boudon looked surprised. "That is why you have come? Is it not?" His round smooth face wrinkled in astonishment, lips pursed with annoyance. "His Highness is waiting for you, " he stuttered, "you must follow me. " He turned and waddled off with Corbett and Ranulf in hot pursuit.

Corbett was surprised, for he knew the routine of court and the royal household and had expected to be kept waiting for days.

Boudon led them through a maze of small alleyways, up some steps, through a buttery, kitchen, a small chapel, then up another staircase into the Great Hall of the manor, long and spacious, with a high vaulted timber roof which soared up and over them. The room was unique with its dark red fire-glazed tiles and the large trefoiled window through which the morning sun shone down on a large oaken table on the dais at the far end. Ranulf gawked and even Corbett was astonished at the hall's luxury. The walls were covered in woollen and velvet drapes, whilst costly and richly decorated carpets covered the floor. Aumbries or cupboards with beautiful wrought-iron scroll work on their boarded doors stood in corners and niches. Against the left wall was a large chimney piece with logs spluttering in the grate while before it, seated in large, elaborately carved chairs, sat a man and a woman, both wrapped in furs, leaning across the table between them quietly studying a chess-board.