Satan's Fire (A Medieval Mystery Featuring Hugh Corbett) by Paul Doherty Page A

about?’
    ‘They don’t want you to investigate.’
    ‘But the king will send someone else. Why create more suspicion?’ Corbett glanced up at the darkened sky. ‘Well, they failed for the second time today. That’s the last time I’m wandering round this benighted manor by myself. Well, what did you find?’
    A bell began to toll, the sign for evening supper. They walked back to the main entrance, Ranulf explaining how they had wandered the galleries and passageways. He paused, clutching his master’s arm.
    ‘Framlingham is a mysterious place. There are chambers, stairways, cellars, even a dungeon. The place is well guarded: armed men everywhere. Never once did they try to stop us, except when we tried to climb to the garret at the top of the manor. The stairway is guarded by soldiers. They were polite and shook their heads. When I asked them why not, they just smiled and told me to mind my own business.’
    ‘Oh, and tell him the other thing,’ Maltote interrupted.
    ‘Oh, yes, Master.’ Ranulf leaned closer. ‘On the second floor of the main building there are eight windows.’
    ‘So?’ Corbett asked.
    ‘But, Master, on the gallery inside there are only seven chambers.’

Chapter 5
    Corbett and his companions returned to the guesthouse and changed for supper.
    ‘Make no mention about the attack on me,’ Corbett warned them as they returned along the passageway to the refectory.
    The Templars were already assembled, seated round a table down the centre of the hall, which was a small, comfortable room, brightly caparisoned by banners hanging from the hammer-beam rafters. De Molay quickly said grace, blessing the food on the table, but then, before they sat down, a servant came in bearing a tray with goblets and an equal number of dishes containing bread sprinkled with salt. Each Templar and their three guests were given a cup and a piece of the salted bread.
    ‘Let us remember,’ de Molay intoned, ‘those of our brothers who have gone before us. Those of our comrades who have gone down into the dust.’
    ‘Amen!’ the Templars chorused.
    Corbett glanced round the shadow-filled hall and suppressed a shiver, as if the ghosts of those on whom de Molay had called were now thronging all around them. He sipped from his cup and bit into the salted bread. Ranulf began to cough, but Corbett nudged him and Ranulf hurriedly ate the salted morsels.
    ‘Let us remember,’ de Molay continued, ‘those fair cities and fortresses which have fallen to our foes.’
    Again the wine and bread were tasted.
    ‘Let us remember,’ de Molay spoke for a third time, ‘the Holy Places where the Lord Jesus ate, drank, suffered, died and rose again.’
    After this the cups and plates were cleared. De Molay gestured at them to sit and the supper began. Despite such a sombre toast, the meal proved to be delicious: spiced pheasant, jugged hare, dishes of fresh vegetables, cups of claret, and whilst the sweetmeats were served, iced wine from Alsace. Corbett sipped the wine and remembered the king’s gift to de Molay as he listened to the conversation around him. Most of the talk was about matters abroad, as if the Templars wished to forget the recent occurrences. They talked of ships, corsairs in the Middle Sea, the recent Chapter in Paris and the great question of whether they should unite with the Hospitaller Order. Corbett and his two companions were not ignored, but never once were they drawn into the conversation. Only when Odo the librarian, a thin, bald-pated man with a flowing white beard joined them, did the conversation lighten. Odo was a carefree soul with a smiling mouth and laughter-filled eyes. Corbett immediately warmed to him.
    ‘You are boring our guests,’ Odo declared from the foot of the table. ‘You are not knights and gentlemen but grizzled old soldiers who don’t know any better.’ He bowed to de Molay. ‘Grand Master, I apologise for being late.’
    ‘Nonsense.’ De Molay smiled back. ‘We know