Hugh Corbett 13 - Corpse Candle by Paul Doherty Read Free Book Online Page A

of St Benedict or the customs of the abbey. At the far end of the semi-circle sat Brother Perditus. The young man looked decidedly out of place, nervously plucking at his robe and shuffling his feet. Archdeacon Adrian, however, seemed to be enjoying himself, like a spectator at a mummer’s play. He clearly did not view Abbot Stephen’s death as a matter of concern to himself. Corbett sat up in the chair.
    ‘Are we all here?’
    ‘Brother Gildas is absent,’ Prior Cuthbert declared.
    ‘I delivered the summons, Father Prior,’ Perditus declared. ‘Gildas was the first I told but you know how busy he is: you can’t distract him from his work.’
    ‘Then we’ll begin.’ Corbett picked up his warrant, tapping the black and red seal at the bottom. ‘This is the King’s own seal,’ he declared. ‘It gives me the power to act as Commissioner over the death of Abbot Stephen or any other matter of concern. I do not wish to be challenged. The King’s writ runs here, as it does in Wales or the Marches of Scotland.’
    Prior Cuthbert opened his mouth to protest. Corbett held his gaze. The other members of the Concilium stirred restlessly.
    ‘We have a requiem Mass starting soon,’ Brother Aelfric wailed. ‘For Abbot Stephen.’
    ‘If the Mass is delayed,’ Corbett declared, ‘then so be it.’
    He got to his feet, turning his back on the Concilium, and walked to the great bay window and stared down into the courtyard.
    ‘Correct me if I am wrong but as I understand it, four days ago, on Tuesday the eve of the feast of St Leo the Great, Abbot Stephen did not go down to the abbey church to sing Matins?’
    Prior Cuthbert agreed.
    ‘You, Brother Perditus, were the Abbot’s manservant. Was it customary for the Abbot to miss the hours of Divine Office occasionally?’
    ‘He was often busy, sometimes distracted,’ Perditus replied. ‘As the morning went on and Abbot Stephen hadn’t appeared, I became alarmed. I knocked on the door and tried the handle of the latch, but it held fast. I went and informed Prior Cuthbert.’
    Corbett came back and rested his hands on the back of the chair.
    ‘Then what happened?’
    The Prior gestured over his shoulder at the door.
    ‘We forced the lock. When we broke in, Abbot Stephen was sitting in his chair, slightly slumped, with his head to one side. The dagger had been driven in,’ he pointed, ‘just above his stomach. The thrust was deep, almost up to the hilt.’
    ‘It was obvious,’ Brother Aelfric declared, ‘the Abbot was dead, and had been for some time.’
    ‘And the door was definitely locked?’ Corbett asked.
    He went round and studied the door. He could see it had been re-hung on new leather hinges. The carpenter had also repaired the inside latch as well as the bolt and clasps at top and bottom.
    ‘Of course it was,’ Prior Cuthbert snapped, half turning in his chair.
    He resented being questioned like a criminal, as this soft-footed clerk walked round the Abbot’s chamber, and Corbett’s red-haired henchman sat carefully taking down everything said. Now and again Ranulf would lift his head. Prior Cuthbert didn’t like the faint smile, or those heavy-lidded eyes which seemed to be mocking him, as if Ranulf didn’t believe anything he saw or heard.
    ‘Continue!’ Corbett demanded.
    ‘The Abbot’s body was removed.’
    ‘And the chamber itself?’
    ‘There were papers on the desk, the fire had burnt low. Abbot Stephen had drunk some wine but, apart from the pool of blood on the floor . . .’
    ‘There was also this.’ Corbett held up a scrap of parchment.
    ‘Ah yes.’ Prior Cuthbert smiled bleakly.
    ‘Look.’ Corbett turned it round. ‘What does this wheel mean? I have glimpsed it on a number of the abbot’s papers.’
    ‘It was just a favourite sketch of his.’
    Corbett turned the paper round. ‘And these quotations? Both are rather garbled. One from St Paul’s about seeing through a glass darkly and the corpse candles beckoning. The