Satan in St Mary hc-1

by Paul Doherty

  When the King finished talking, Eleanor turned, her face radiant with happiness, and extended a slim be-ringed hand for Corbett to kiss. The clerk did so, realizing that anyone responsible for saving the King's life would have Eleanor's complete protection and gratitude. He smelt the faint fragrant perfume of the Queen, immediately thought of Alice and felt a momentary stab of anger at what both these royal personages had cost him.

  He looked up in astonishment as the Queen burst into peals of laughter, her hand pointing beyond him to where Ranulf sat. Corbett turned and almost laughed himself at the young man's white face, his wide eyes and slack jaw revealing his awe and trepidation at being in the royal presence. Corbett touched him reassuringly on the knee while the King talked to Ranulf in English which almost parodied the voice of a Londoner. Ranulf stammered a short reply then lapsed into silence, head bowed, as the King summoned Boudon and asked his steward to pour the wine that the servants had eventually brought. Only then Corbett was questioned carefully on all he had discovered in connection with Duket's mysterious death.

  Twenty

  The King listened to Corbett carefully, now and again interrupting to ask a question or make him repeat a statement to clarify a point. Occasionally, the Queen broke into the conversation with a blunt question or stark observation. Time passed, more wine was brought, this time with sweetmeats which clogged Corbett's mouth and made him feel slightly nauseous. Eventually, Corbett's story ended, he had circumvented Alice, telling slight lies to soften her participation in the plot against the King. Nevertheless, he was uncertain whether the King was ignorant of the full facts. He seemed well briefed, his shrewd eyes assessing Corbett seemed to sense that something was missing. Yet, he appeared pleased and, when Corbett had finished, there was silence as the King stared into the fire, one hand stretched across the table to caress his wife. He got up, his huge bulk towering above Corbett.

  "You have done well, Master Clerk, " he rasped. "Very well. I shall not forget. Take this, " and he dropped two full purses into Corbett's lap "as a mere token of our gratitude. There will be more, " he added softly, looking at both Corbett and Ranulf. "But that will come later. " The King tapped Corbett on the shoulder. "Enjoy yourself here, Master Clerk. You are a loyal, faithful servant of the Crown who has chosen the better part. Whatever you may think now. " Then he was gone, his wife following in a billow of silk and perfume almost before Corbett and Ranulf could rise to their feet.

  Corbett sat and thought about what he had said to the King. He sighed, turned and grinned at the still awestruck Ranulf. "Come, Ranulf, " he joked. "The King has told us to enjoy ourselves. Let us begin. "

  Corbett stayed at Woodstock for over a week, enjoying and participating in the ritual and festivities of the Court as it celebrated Easter and the ending of Holy Week. Gradually Ranulf relaxed and a cynical Corbett watched him flirt in his open, vulgar way with the ladies of the Court. The young man's blatant sexuality and infatuation with the opposite sex both fascinated and repelled Corbett. The sophisticated court ladies thought differently, a few of whom found themselves in Ranulf's bed, turning and working to pleasure a young man who, by rights, should have been dangling on the gallows weeks ago.

  The days passed. Corbett felt the frantic routine of the Court soothe his anxieties and regrets about Alice though the scraps of news from London were ominous enough. There had been raids on houses both in the city and the surrounding countryside, arrests had been made, followed by summary trials before the King's Justices and then brutal executions at the gallows or in chains at Smithfield. The King, for all his calm demeanour, was secretly furious at being kept from his city by rebels, secret sympathizers of the dead but still hated de Montfort.

  Corbett would have stayed at Woodstock immersed in the Court routine carrying out minor tasks assigned to him by the King but, of course, Burnell changed all that. About ten days after arriving at Woodstock, Corbett received a letter from the Chancellor, and he opened it with trembling hands, recognizing the bold firm script of the Chancellor's own hand.

  "Robert Burnell, Bishop of Bath and Wells, Chancellor of England, to our well beloved clerk, Hugh Corbett, greetings. The information you sent us has proved most valuable in the apprehension and arrest of traitors in the city. The tavern known as The Mitre in St. Mark's Lane was surrounded by soldiers the King had sent into the city. All persons in that tavern were arrested and taken to the Tower for questioning. There was, however, no sign of the owner, the woman known as Alice atte Bowe. Nevertheless, others were not so fortunate in their escape and once confined in the Tower were put to the question and interrogated for days regarding the murder of Lawrence Duket A number of them died under this questioning but one, a huge fellow, the protector of Alice atte Bowe and former public hangman called Peter, eventually made a full confession. It would appear that the revolutionaries or Populares party in the city, those known supporters of the dead de Montfort, were infiltrated and controlled by an even more dangerous faction, a secret black magic coven called the Pentangle

  "This group rejected the cross of Christ and saw the heretic, Fitz-Osbert, as a saint espousing theories which would have done away with the authority of the King, the church and any vestige of authority in this realm. They practised Satanic ceremonies and abominable rites in deserted churchyards or, more commonly, in the chancel of a disused church in Southwark. The leader of this group, known as The Hooded One, was, Peter abjectly confessed, the woman, Alice atte Bowe, who owned The Mitre tavern. Some others in the group were wealthy merchants, even officials in the city government. One of them, Ralph Crepyn, had the specific task to raise money, by whatever means he could employ, to assist the Pentangle and the Populares party in the city with their plot to kill the King, as his Grace moved from Woodstock through Cheapside and down to Westminster.

  "The King's murder was to be followed by a general revolt. The drawing you found in Bellet's bible showed that the assassins would have used the church of Saint Mary Le Bow, the same place they used to store their arms, which explains poor Savel's riddle which you mentioned in your report to me. We have found stores of such arms concealed in the church cemetery. Crepyn's death and Duket's later murder changed everything for they brought you into this matter and so alarmed the rebels that they hired special assassins to track you down and kill you

  "It would also appear, and I do not blame you for this, that Alice atte Bowe attempted by other means to divert you from your task Fortunately, neither tactic succeeded. This self-confessed criminal, Peter, also admitted that he had no knowledge of the whereabouts of Alice atte Bowe, who had mysteriously fled the day before her comrades were seized. However, Peter did supply us with other names and the royal Serjeants have been busy in arresting numerous people throughout the city One group did contrive to make a stand, barricading themselves in a house off the Walbrook Royal archers fired the dwelling and cut down any who tried to escape. London has now been purged of these vermin and safely returned to its loyalty to our Lord the King Consequently, I urge you to return here with all possible speed God save you. Written at Westminster – June 1284. "

  Corbett heaved a sigh of relief. So, Alice had escaped. He agreed with Burnell, he wanted to return and immediately ordered a disgruntled Ranulf to pack their belongings. Corbett took leave of the King and that same day they were on the road south. It was strange to be free of the bustle and noise, riding through the summer countryside. However, Corbett felt his anxieties and fears crowding in on him again, a feeling of deep panic which made him ride faster, making Ranulf forget his grumbles about leaving the new-found luxuries of the Court.

  It only took them a few days to reach the outskirts of London. Corbett decided to leave Ranulf and the horses at a riverside inn while he hired a skiff to take him to Westminster. He arrived there about noon on the fourth day after he left Woodstock and, as he walked through the Great Hall, sensed danger and excitement. It was always the same after a crisis, Corbett reasoned. Warrants had to be issued; letters drawn
up, judgments recorded, recognizances and testimonies witnessed and sealed. All meant an increase in the work load for the clerks who caught some of the fear, tension and excitement from the documents they handled. Corbett tried to ignore any salutations or attempts to drawn him into conversation. He wanted to see Burnell immediately, not be drawn into desultory chatter. He did note that certain of the senior clerks looked at him strangely, their eyes slipping away when he stared back.

  Burnell was in his chambers but Corbett was told to wait and had to stand around for hours until the Chancellor sent for him late that afternoon. He found Burnell, still swathed in robes, almost immersed in a sea of documents which lay curled, spread and heaped across the great table. The Chancellor stared as Corbett came into the room, his dark hooded eyes carefully scrutinizing the clerk before he waved him to a stool and poured him a goblet of heavy red Gascon wine. Corbett sat down and sipped the wine, waiting for Burnell, who sat, gazing closely into his own cup, to begin.

  "Master Hugh, " Burnell said, putting his cup down. "The work that you did was good, very good. That nest of traitors has been netted, some were tortured and so many more have been hanged. A few, " he smiled evilly at Corbett, "will be hanged by the purse. Huge benevolences. Loans to guarantee their future good behaviour. Your part in this will never be forgotten. Oh, " Burnell added, almost as an afterthought. "Master Hubert Seagrave. Do you know his whereabouts?"

  "Seagrave, " Corbett flatly replied, "was a traitor and I have executed him. He was giving information to the highest bidder. He deserved to die!"

  The Chancellor was going to speak but stopped and shuffled amongst the papers on his desk. "There was the woman, " Burnell said slowly. "Alice atte Bowe, her maiden name was Fitz-Osbert. She was arrested on the Dover road by a mounted patrol and brought back to the city. "

  "And, " Corbett heard his voice interject like ice snapping, a sound from far away.

  "And what?" Burnell asked.

  "The woman!" Corbett exclaimed. He could feel his heart pounding like the hooves of a charging horse. "The woman! What happened to her?" he cried.

  "Oh, " Burnell replied, not raising his eyes. "She was not tortured. She confessed all and then cursed us just as clearly. She was brought here before King's Bench and accused of treason, murder and witchcraft. Alice atte Bowe was found guilty and burnt at Smithfield for her crimes!"

  The Chancellor's voice trailed off as Corbett sat, white-faced, his nightmares realized. He had almost prepared himself for such news and only this prevented him from giving voice to the terrible pounding in his ears and the shrill screaming in his head. Corbett was stunned. Images whirled like blazing wheels through his brain. He heard the Chancellor cough and begin speaking again.

  "I am sorry, Hugh. So very sorry. I, too, found her beautiful. She left you this. " He tossed a small, black, silken glove into Corbett's lap. "She gave no other message. She did not suffer, " Burnell's voice slightly faltered. "I – I ensured that she did not suffer. A cup of wine, heavily drugged, was given to her before the fires at Smithfield were started. "

  Corbett, still dazed, heard the Chancellor's voice as if from a great distance, but he did not care. He felt the room turn and spin, his mouth was dry and he felt nauseous and weak. He rose, the small black glove clutched tightly in his hand. He heard Burnell call out but he walked from the chamber, pushing aside startled officials who might have objected but swallowed their words when they saw Corbett's harassed face.

  Eventually, Corbett fought his way out of the Hall and almost ran down to the riverside wharf where, out of breath, he slumped down at the top of some crumbling weather-beaten steps. He tried to calm his breath, to still his thudding heart. Alice was gone, dead, the world was empty without her. Above him, a gull screeched against a steel-grey sky. Corbett smelt the glove, Alice's faint perfume recalling the very essence of her being. It was almost warm against the icy coldness of his face. He held the glove gently in his hand, then let it drop like some rare black flower into the river below. It bobbed, stirred, and then the current caught and pulled it. The river lapped round the glove before driving it out to the vastness of the open sea.

  Author's Note

  The reader may be interested in the following extract from a London chronicle written in Latin at the time. The translation runs as follows: -

  "In that year Lawrence Duket, a London goldsmith, mortally wounded Ralph Crepyn in Cheapside and fled to the church of Saint Mary Le Bow. Afterwards certain evil men from the party of the said Ralph entered the church by night, killed the said Lawrence by hanging him from a window bar. A postmortem was held on this and the verdict reached that the said Lawrence had committed suicide; on account of this the body was dragged by the feet outside the city and interred in a ditch. Soon afterwards, because of the confession of a certain boy who had lain with the said Lawrence on the night of his death but then escaped, the truth of the matter came out. On account of which a certain woman, Alice atte Bowe, who was the author of this crime, together with sixteen men were imprisoned and afterwards many of these were hanged and the woman burnt. The said church was put under interdict by the Archbishop of Canterbury, the doors and windows being blocked up with thorns. Lawrence Duket was exhumed from the place where he had been buried and re-interred in hallowed ground. "

  Alice atte Bowe, therefore, did exist. She was the organizer of a gang or coven which committed sacrilege and murder in the church of Saint Mary Le Bow in 1284. London at that time was in the middle of political change and tumult and the crime may well have been something to do with the murky politics of the time. De Montfort was destroyed at Evesham in a bloody and barbaric way and his followers did later carry out assassinations. The church of Saint Mary Le Bow was the centre of Satanic practices, for Fitz-Osbert was a historical person, who for a short time wielded considerable political power in the capital.

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