"Prince of Darkness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doherty Paul)

Chapter 3

Corbett and Ranulf arrived at Godstowe late in the morning, just after Dame Martha's drowned cadaver was sheeted and moved to the death house, a small brick building which stood behind the priory church. The two riders studied the convent buildings which nestled at the foot of a shallow, wooded valley. Facing them was a high, double-gated entrance and further along the steep curtain wall, the postern door or Galilee Gate leading to the forest

Corbett patted his horse as it stirred restlessly at the faint tolling of the priory bell calling the lay workers in from the fields beyond the walls for their mid-day meal. The priory was a grand building built from the yellow stone carved from local quarries. The main house, a two-storeyed building, was built in a square around the cloister garth. Beyond this was the church with its red-tiled roof and soaring towers. Corbett identified the other buildings: the infirmary, the novitiate, the chapter house built above the refectory, the Prioress' house at the far side of the church, and then, huddled up against the walls, the maltings, kiln room and other outbuildings. A place of ostensible serenity, contemplation and prayer, Corbett thought Still, he must force himself to see it as a place soaked in blood and intrigue.

'Ranulf.' He turned in the saddle and looked across at his servant. 'Godstowe is a nunnery, the women reputedly consecrated to God. Be prudent and remember my advice -nothing will be what it appears. Oh, by the way, what was in that bag you took down to the taproom last night?'

'Nothing, Master.' Ranulf gazed back in round-eyed innocence.

Corbett grunted and they cantered down the hill following the path up to the main gate. Ranulf pulled at the bell cord hanging there and kicked his boot against the small postern door. A tall, thin pole of a man with a face as white as snow, bleary eyes, and a nose so red it flared like a beacon, opened the small door and stepped out, half-closing it behind him.

'What do you want?' he snapped. He studied the dark face of the clerk, noting the expensive quilted cote hardie, woollen hose and costly Spanish riding boots. 'I mean,' he added more politely, 'what business brings you here?'

He was joined by two men-at-arms dressed in the blue and gold livery of the Prince of Wales, well armed with sword and dagger, their faces hidden by the noseguards of their conical helmets.

'Bugger off!' one of them shouted.

He swayed slightly and, behind Corbett, even Ranulf could smell the stench of ale.

Corbett urged his horse forward, freed his foot from the stirrup and pushed the guard up against the gate, pressing his boot firmly into the man's chest

'My name is Corbett,' he announced quietly. 'Hugh Corbett, senior clerk in the Chancery of the King and his special envoy to Godstowe Priory. I treat you courteously so I resent your bad manners. Now,' he turned to the porter, 'you will either open that gate or I will kill one of you!'

He smiled. 'After all, it is treason to interfere with a royal envoy.'

Corbett withdrew his foot and both soldiers scuttled away like rabbits whilst Red Nose hastily unlocked one of the great gates and led them in. He didn't even stop to lock it behind him, so eager was he to show them to the stables. After that one of the soldiers, mumbling a profuse apology, led them across to the Prioress' lodgings. Word of the debacle at the gate must have preceded them for Lady Amelia was already awaiting their arrival in her cool upper chamber with its painted blue walls, polished wooden floor and oval-shaped windows filled with precious coloured glass. The Lady Prioress sat in the centre of the chamber on her favourite throne-like chair. She rose as Corbett entered, extending one elegant hand for him to kiss.

'You are most welcome, Master Corbett. We heard you were coming. I must apologise for the greeting.' She smiled falsely. 'But we have so many curiosity seekers. Lady Eleanor's death draws constant visitors here. Anyway you are most welcome, Master Corbett. I did think His Grace would send…' Her voice trailed off,

'Someone more important than a clerk, My Lady?'

She nodded her head.

'Then, My Lady, you are disappointed!'

Corbett looked at the haughty face framed by its white starched wimple: the gimlet eyes, imperious nose, and a mouth no more than a line. Lady Amelia smelt of perfume, crushed herbs, and something deeper, more cloying. This lady, Corbett thought, would kill if her honour or pride were at stake. Lady Amelia, however, disregarded his answer and graciously introduced her two companions, the Sub-prioresses, who had been sitting on either side of her like two fire dogs: Dame Frances, tall, thin and dry, hard-eyed, and sour-faced with twisted lips; Dame Catherine, comely, plump and pert, cheery-faced and with a generous mouth though her eyes were like two black pebbles in her rosy face. Lady Amelia indicated a chair for Corbett. She clapped her hands and a servant brought in cups of malmsey and a plate of sweetmeats. Ranulf she ignored and left to stand behind his master. He swallowed his pride as he studied the nuns. Hell's teeth, a most unholy trinity! Dame Catherine, however, drew his glance; she was studying Corbett intently, her small pink tongue constantly wetting her lips. Ranulf grinned to himself. A wanton one there, he thought, and began to daydream quietly of what would happen if he and the good dame were alone in some small, cosy chamber. The Prioress settled herself, allowing a faint smile to grace her face. She nibbled at the doucettes.

'What does His Grace the King command?' she began. 'His Grace requires nothing save a full explanation of the Lady Eleanor's death.' Lady Amelia made a face.

'We regret Lady Eleanor's death, as we do that of the unfortunate Dame Martha. One of our sisters,' she added quickly, noting the puzzlement in Corbett's face. 'She was found drowned in her bath this morning. Remember, Master Clerk, in the midst of life we are in death.'

'Yes, but it makes a difference how Death comes.'

'In Lady Eleanor's case, by accident.'

Corbett adjusted his belt and settled himself more comfortably.

'Was she melancholic?' he asked.

'A little. She was often heard praying to be delivered from her sickness. She had a malady of the breast Dame Catherine?' She turned to her cheery-faced companion.

The fat nun shrugged as if freeing herself from a daydream. 'Lady Eleanor,' she piped up, 'had a malignancy in her breast The Prince sent her medicines.'

'Did he bring them himself?' Corbett asked. 'Oh, no.'

'Did any visitors come?'

'Of course not!' Lady Amelia snapped. 'We are a convent, not a guest house.'

'These medicines – why should the Prince be so concerned?'

'The Prince is a caring man.'

'How do you know that?'

'My father was steward in his household.'

'Which is why you got preferment here?'

'Naturally.' Lady Amelia's smile faded. 'Though one approved by both the bishop and the community.'

Corbett noticed how Dame Frances pursed her lips in silent but eloquent repudiation of her mistress' claims to merit.

'These medicines?'

'Oh,' Dame Catherine spoke up, 'bought from a physician in London, distilled by the best apothecary.'

Lady Amelia saw the flicker of doubt in the clerk's eyes and forced a more gracious smile. She must be wary of these quick answers. She had been warned about this inquisitive clerk with his abrupt questions and reputation for honesty. She scrutinised him more carefully. Yes, more than some petty official, with his hair black as night, that sardonic face and those clever eyes which didn't seem to accept a single thing she said. Perhaps attack was the best form of defence. She could be as abrupt as he.

'Be careful, Master Corbett,' she retorted. 'The Prince may have ended his relationship with the Lady Eleanor but he wished her well. The medicines were potions not poisons.'

The Prioress snapped her fingers and Dame Catherine got up and crossed to a small, iron-bound chest She lifted the lid, took out a cachet and handed it to Lady Amelia. The Prioress, her eyes fixed on Corbett, opened the pouch and poured some of the white powder into the palm of her hand, then scooped it up with the tip of her tongue, cleansing her mouth afterwards with a sip of wine.

'See, Master Corbett, I have taken the same potions the Prince sent to Lady Eleanor and I do not die!'

Corbett grimaced.

'Very well. It was you who found the body?'

'Yes, after Compline. The community and I went over to the refectory for the usual collation before we retired. As was customary, I and my two Sub-prioresses went into the convent building through the main door. The hall was dark and only one torch burnt We found the Lady Eleanor lying at the foot of the stairs.' The Prioress stared directly at Ranulf as if acknowledging him for the first time. 'She looked as if she slept' she murmured.

'But how could a woman fall downstairs and not disturb the hood on her head?' Corbett asked.

'Oh, I have heard a lot of useless speculation about that,' Lady Amelia replied briskly. 'The hood was tied tight.'

'And no one heard her fall?'

'There was no one there to do so.'

'Except Dames Martha and Elizabeth? And one of them is now dead.'

'Both of them were very deaf!' Lady Amelia snapped. 'Then what happened?'

'We sent our porter to Woodstock to inform the Prince.' 'And he did what?'

'My Lord Gaveston came down to ensure all was well as could be in the circumstances. He left some silver for the funeral and the Prince's instructions that the Lady Eleanor be buried here.' She shrugged. 'That was all.'

'Did a physician look at the body?'

'No, why should he? The Lady Eleanor was dead.'

'And who was the dead woman's closest companion?'

Lady Amelia smiled triumphantly as if she had caught the clerk out

I wondered when you would ask me that'

She nodded at Dame Frances who rose, went out, and immediately returned accompanied by another sister. The new arrival stood in the doorway so Corbett could only make out her height, her face and figure being concealed by veil and habit

'Master Corbett may I introduce our sacristan and cellarer, Dame Agatha?'

The nun came forward and Corbett remembered his manners and rose. He heard Ranulf gasp behind him. Dame Agatha was beautiful. Her face had a full fresh colour, the eyes were well spaced, calm, serene, full of laughter and good humour. She was honey-mouthed, sweet and wholesome. Her hand felt cool and dry, and as Corbett kissed it he smelt the perfume of her body – fresh, pleasant, and fragrant as a spring rose. Lady Amelia seemed to enjoy Corbett's consternation.

'What did you expect, Master Clerk?'

I expected nothing, My Lady.'

Dame Agatha studied him carefully. Was she laughing at him? Corbett wondered. Dame Frances seemed to have produced a stool from nowhere and, at Lady Amelia's insistence, Dame Agatha sat down, indicating that Corbett should resume his seat.

'You wished to question me, Monsieur?' Her voice was low, tinged with a French accent

'Yes, My Lady. You were a companion of Lady Eleanor?'

'Yes, I was.'

'You shared chambers?'

'No, the Lady Eleanor occupied one corridor of the convent building. She had the use of all the chambers there. Lady Amelia appointed me to be her companion but I slept with the sisters in the dorter.'

'You were appointed companion?'

'The Lady Eleanor asked for Dame Agatha,' the Prioress interrupted.

'And how was the Lady Eleanor the day before she died?' Corbett asked the young nun.

'Oh, quite happy but rather secretive. She insisted I go to Compline and refused to accompany me.'

'She usually went?'

'Oh, yes.'

'And, when you left her, she was still alive?'

The young nun looked sideways, warning Corbett with her eyes that she wished to say something but dare not here.

'Of course,' she replied. 'As sacristan I went to church early to prepare the altar. Dame Frances, you saw me there before Compline began?'

The tall, ascetic nun nodded. Corbett realised the implication of her question.

'Lady Amelia, when was Eleanor Belmont last seen alive?'

The Prioress paused, fingers to her lips.

'She was seen just before Compline. Yes, by the ancient ones – that is, Dame Elizabeth and Dame Martha. They were gossiping in one of their chambers which overlooks the passage to the chapel. They saw Lady Eleanor walking down the path as if she was going towards the Galilee Gate.'

Corbett raised his hand for her to pause as he tried to remember the lay-out of the nunnery. There was the convent building, to its right the priory church, behind that some trees and outbuildings, then the wall and the Galilee Gate. He smiled.

I am just remembering what I have seen. Please continue. The two old sisters who saw Lady Eleanor?' The Prioress shrugged.

'Dame Elizabeth opened her window and called out, asking if all was well Lady Eleanor turned, smiled, waved and shouted that she was going for a short walk. That was the last time she was seen alive.'

'Dame Agatha, what do you think happened?' Corbett asked.

She made a face, lifting her shoulders prettily, but again warned Corbett with her eyes.

I think she went for a walk, returned during Compline, went up the stairs, tripped, fell back and broke her neck. Poor thing!'

'But should such a fall mean immediate death?'

Corbett heard Ranulf stir restlessly behind him and suddenly realised his servant was edging slowly across the room towards some small silver figurines arranged on a gold tray on top of a chest Oh, God! Corbett prayed quietly. Please, Ranulf, not here, not now!

'It's quite possible.' Dame Frances spoke for the first time, her voice harsh and decisive. I have some knowledge of physic. When a woman suffers from a malignancy in her breast, her bones become dry as the humours of her body become juiceless. In such a state, a fall could be most grievous.'

Corbett now moved to the most important question, like a good archer leaving his most lethal arrow to the last

'So,' he said, 'the Lady Eleanor was last seen walking near the church on Sunday before Compline. Dame Agatha, you left her in good spirits?' The young nun nodded her head. 'She was seen by Dames Elizabeth and Martha?'

'Oh, yes,' Lady Amelia interrupted. 'And by the porter. He, too, saw her walking near the church before Compline, as he passed the Galilee Gate.'

Corbett cleared his throat

'Lady Amelia, I must ask you this and I ask you with the full force of the King's law, did you or any of your sisters leave the church during Compline, after Compline, or excuse themselves from the refectory?'

'No!'

'Dame Agatha, did you?'

'She certainly did not!' Dame Frances spoke up promptly. 'She was in the sacristy before Compline. I was with her.' She glanced spitefully at the young nun. 'I always have to keep an eye on Sister Agatha. I am responsible for the stores and the plates, and -' Corbett noticed the young nun blushed '- Dame Agatha can be forgetful, can't you, my dear?'

The young nun averted her gaze.

'May I see the corpse?' Corbett asked, brusquely rising to his feet 'Lady Prioress, I need to see the body. The King insists on that'

Lady Amelia drew back her head, shocked.

'Lady Eleanor, for all she might once have been, was when she died a member of our Order,' she answered.

'My Lady -' Corbett realised that Ranulf was by now very close to the silver figurines '- she was also a subject of the King's and died in mysterious circumstances. Do you wish me to produce warrants and writs?' The Lady Prioress sighed.

'Her corpse lies in the death house,' she replied quietly. 'The mortuary near the church. Dame Frances, Sister Agatha, take our guest across.'

Behind Corbett, Ranulf sighed with relief. He had acted just in time and two of the silver figurines were now carefully hidden beneath his jerkin. He trailed behind his master as Corbett, nodding politely to the Lady Prioress, followed Dame Frances and Sister Agatha out of the chamber. They walked out into the blinding sunlight, Ranulf kicking the hard turf, Frances and Agatha moving softly and silently as shadows.

The nuns led the two men round beautiful, sandstone buildings, across the grass, up to the church, and behind that to the small, red-brick death house which stood near the wall at the end of a dusty path.

Now and again Corbett stopped to ask Dame Frances some questions about Godstowe. She would politely mumble a reply and try to move on but the clerk stood his ground, idly making conversation as he gazed around. Priory servants scurried past and nearby some lay sisters were busy hoeing the garden beds, purifying the dark soil round the rose bushes and the neat, square herb plots.

Corbett breathed in deeply, relaxing in the warmth of the sunshine, half-listening to the wood pigeons cooing in the forest. Behind him, under the eaves of the church, the swallows chattered musically against the walls. Dame Frances, however, proved to be equally contained and stood her ground, quite prepared to answer anything he asked. All the time she watched the silent Dame Agatha. Corbett caught a warning look in the old woman's eyes, indicating the young nun should say nothing or offer any information beyond what politeness demanded. Corbett looked up once more at the blue sky and took two steps closer to Dame Frances.

'That was a pack of lies, wasn't it?' he asked abruptly. 'Back there. Something's wrong. What is it, woman?' He ignored Dame Agatha's gasp, quietly enjoying Dame Frances' flustered air at such an abrupt challenge. 'I am the King's Justiciar in these matters. Lady Eleanor did not fall, did she?'

Dame Frances stepped back, her face sour as a dried fig, eyelids fluttering as she gathered her wits.

'Perhaps you are right, sir,' she muttered. I believe the Lady Eleanor may have committed suicide. The Prioress is trying to hide that Something was preying on Lady Eleanor's mind, but Lady Amelia will not accept it was suicide. She might be held responsible. Moreover,' she muttered, 'the Lady Eleanor… you know what could happen if suicide was proved?'

Corbett just gazed stonily back.

Dame Frances' voice rose. 'The Lady Eleanor would be denied burial in hallowed ground. Do you want that, Clerk? Her body tossed in some shallow grave at the crossroads with a stake driven through her heart so her poor soul will never rest? That's what church law decrees!'

Corbett pointed down the path.

'And that is the death house?'

'Yes,' she snapped. 'Do what you have to do.'

Corbett told Ranulf to stay and went down and opened the unlocked door. Inside it was cool, moist, reeking of the soil and something more corrupt. The clerk closed the door behind him. He felt the menace of death pressing against his own spirit. He jumped as a bat, startled by the noise, spread its dark wings above the rafters and screeched in annoyance. One small window high in the wall afforded some light. Curiously enough two candles had been lit, slender beeswax ones, and placed at the head of the two plain elm-wood coffins, each resting on its own trestles. Corbett went over to the nearest, lifted the gauze veil and stepped back at the sight of the wrinkled old face which stared up at him. The eyes were half-open, the lips parted, showing a red-black mouth. In the flickering candlelight it looked as if the old woman lying there was on the point of rising. Corbett remembered the Prioress telling him about the old nun who had died early that morning. He took a deep breath, replaced the veil and moved across to the other coffin

As was customary, the lid had not yet been put in place; this would be done just before the funeral service. The veil had already been drawn back and Corbett caught his breath at the ice-cold beauty of the young woman lying there. She had Maeve's silvery-gold hair and flawless features. Corbett reflected that, as Lady Eleanor had been dead for six days, the priory must have spared no expense in hiring the best embalmers to preserve her body for burial. He said a short prayer to the Madonna, hoping the dead woman's shade would accept he meant no blasphemy. He pulled the veil further down, picked up the candle and examined the dead woman's throat At the base of the throat on each side, was a small yellow bruise. Corbett then removed the veil completely and almost screamed with terror as a voice suddenly boomed out

'Man, what are you doing?'

Corbett turned. At the foot of the coffin, a friar, who had been kneeling there all of the time, was now standing, his hands clenched tightly on the rim of Lady Eleanor's coffin. The friar's face, a mask of anger, looked ghastly in the flickering light His head was tonsured, his eyes deep-set under furrowed brows. His mouth and chin were fixed in a determined expression. He glared at Corbett

I asked, man, what you were doing?'

Corbett's hand went to the knife as the priest came round me coffin.

'Leave your dagger alone!' he rasped. 'Or I'll give you a rap across the head you'll never forget'

Corbett kept his hand on the knife hilt

I am on the King's business here. My name is Hugh Corbett.'

I couldn't give a devil's fart who you are and why you are here!' The friar pointed down to the corpse. 'A whore she may have been, and her sins as scarlet as those of the Great Whore of Babylon, but you'll treat her with respect.'

The friar paused as Corbett drew his knife. Behind them the door was flung open and a breathless Ranulf burst into the room.

'Rest easy, Ranulf!' Corbett shouted as the friar spun round. 'Father and I have business here.'

His man reluctantly closed the door.

'Father,' Corbett continued quietly, I mean no disrespect. I am here on official business to examine the corpse. Who are you?'

The friar drew a deep breath,

'Father Reynard, parson of the local church, and by episcopal authority, Chaplain to this benighted place.' He nodded, his eyes never leaving Corbett I suppose you had better finish.'

Corbett returned to the head of the coffin and lifted the veil, pulling it down again, paying special notice to the bruises on either side of the woman's neck. He noticed the marks on the finger of the right hand where a ring had been pulled off. He went to the bottom of the casket, lifted the veil there and pushed back the dark gown in which the corpse had been dressed, noticing the yellowing bruise on the right leg mid-way up the calf. Behind Corbett the friar breathed heavily. The clerk, as tactfully as possible, examined the rest of the body and, for the first time, despite the oils and unguents of the embalmers, caught a whiff of corruption. The clerk softly said the Requiem and moved back to the corpse of the old nun He stood looking down, the friar still watching, before carefully replacing the veil and walking wordlessly to the door. Behind him the friar snuffed the candles and followed him out. Despite the golden sunshine, Corbett felt a cold shiver run down his spine at what he had seen.

'Aye, it's the Valley of Death,' Father Reynard intoned, watching him intently.

Corbett stared at him. Reynard did not look so fierce now. Of medium height, he gave an impression of strength, as if drawn from oak and the dark rich soil. A man of the Commons, blunt and honest in speech and action His face was ascetic, though Corbett noted the humour lines which offset the fanaticism in the brooding eyes.

'You knew the Lady Eleanor?' Corbett asked.

'Aye, a fine lady even though she was a whore.'

The priest gazed about, his eyes narrowing when he saw Dame Frances standing with Ranulf at the top of the path.

'A place of evil,' he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, 'make no mistake of that, Clerk. Satan walks and devours souls whose bodies will bum in his belly for all eternity.'

'And the Lady Eleanor?'

'A poor blighted toy of princes. Now she is dead, Christ have mercy on her soul!'

'How do you think she died?'

'By her own hand, of course!'

The friar wiped his own and continued speaking.

'The dark forces present here may have unsettled her mind.' He gestured towards the far convent wall and a polished plinth of stone which rose five feet from the ground.' Look at that, Clerk – the sign of Priapus. They say in ancient times it was a shrine, an altar to some ancient, bloody-mouthed god.'

Corbett followed his gaze. The stone was polished smooth and glinted in the sunlight. He smiled to himself. There was no mistaking its shape and he wondered how the nuns could allow such a pagan object within their grounds. He looked back at the friar.

'You still haven't told me, Father, what you were doing in the death house?'

'Praying, man. I was praying for Christ to have mercy on the souls of those two unfortunate women. As I will pray for you.' He looked darkly at the clerk. 'Believe me, before you have finished here, you may have need of my prayers!'