Hugh Corbett 13 - Corpse Candle Read Online Free

Edward’s spy master, his limner, his greyhound, his searcher for the truth. Abbot Stephen had once spoken of how Corbett had investigated a strange community, the Pastorales out on the Norfolk coast. Oh yes, a clerk who enjoyed the King’s favour without stint or hindrance! Prior Cuthbert felt the sweat break out on his brow. Even before Corbett spoke he knew which way this was going. Edward of England was not going to be satisfied with some coroner’s report. Abbot Stephen’s death was to be investigated. Corbett stood, staring down at the dead Abbot’s face as if memorising every detail. Then he went and knelt on the prie-dieu and crossed himself. Ranulf and Chanson knelt on the hard paving floor so Prior Cuthbert had no choice but to follow.
    ‘ Requiem eternam ,’ Corbett intoned. ‘Eternal rest grant unto Abbot Stephen, Oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he find a place of light and peace. May he rest in your favour and enjoy your smile for all eternity.’
    Corbett crossed himself, got to his feet and replaced the purple cloth over the Abbot’s face.
    ‘I will not speak to you now, Prior Cuthbert. I want to see you and the Abbey Concilium, shall we say within a quarter of the hour? You have chambers prepared for us?’
    ‘Yes, yes, in our guesthouse.’
    Corbett took his cloak from Chanson.
    ‘One for me and one for my companions?’
    ‘Yes, Sir Hugh.’
    Prior Cuthbert felt uneasy, used to exercising authority, Corbett made him nervous, agitated. The clerk seemed to sense this.
    ‘Prior Cuthbert, I am here on the King’s business. I understand the grief of your community but Abbot Stephen was a close friend of the King. A priest, one of the leading clerics of the Lords Spiritual. His death, or rather his murder, has saddened and angered the King. The assassin undoubtedly was a member of your community. I and my companions, and I swear this in the presence of Abbot Stephen’s corpse, will not leave this abbey until both God and the King’s justice is done and seen to be done!’
    ‘Of course.’ Prior Cuthbert tried to assert himself. ‘We understand the King’s grief, indeed, anger. Abbot Stephen was much loved. Yet his assassin may not be a member of our community. Sinister figures prowl the fens outside: outlaws, wolfs-heads under their leader Scaribrick. It is not unknown for such reprobates to trespass on our property.’
    ‘In which case,’ Corbett replied drily, tightening his sword belt, ‘they have powers denied to you and me, Prior Cuthbert. Wasn’t Abbot Stephen’s chamber locked and bolted from the inside, its latticed windows firmly closed? There are no secret entrances, I suppose?’
    Prior Cuthbert stepped back.
    ‘What are you implying, Sir Hugh?’
    ‘I am implying nothing,’ Corbett declared, ‘except that Abbot Stephen was found in his chamber with a dagger from his own coffer thrust deep into his chest. No one heard a sound, let alone a cry for help. The room was not disturbed. Nothing was stolen. How could some ragged-arsed outlaw perpetrate such a crime, waft in and out like God’s own air?’
    ‘You are implying,’ Prior Cuthbert declared, ‘that Abbot Stephen was murdered and his assassin must be a member of our community? If that is true then it is a matter for the church courts. This is church property. Until the election and installation of a new abbot, I am the law in this abbey.’
    Corbett put on his cloak. He fiddled with the clasp as if ignoring what the Prior had said. He glanced over his shoulder at Ranulf who stood, thumbs tucked into his sword belt. The Prior could see the Clerk of the Green Wax was enjoying himself. Corbett’s henchman, Prior Cuthbert thought, his bully-boy, was clearly not impressed by church authority. His cat-like eyes were half-closed and he was biting his lip to hide the mockery bubbling inside. Chanson, their groom, stood open-mouthed like some peasant watching a mummer’s play. Prior Cuthbert knew that he