'In which case…'

Corbett got to his feet just as Maltote, his hair tousled, his face heavy with sleep, burst into the room and gazed beseechingly at Corbett.

'Master, I am sorry, I did not know you had arrived. I went upstairs and fell asleep.'

Corbett smiled at the man's innocent, open face.

'Don't worry, Maltote.'

Corbett signalled to Ranulf to collect their boots and cloaks. He bowed at the others and allowed Gurney's steward to lead them up the winding staircase to their chamber. Maltote, still heavy with sleep, found it difficult to cope with Ranulf's teasing and without the steward's guidance would not have been able to find his own way back to the chamber they were to share. The steward explained that the house was so full of visitors and guests it was difficult to find a room for everyone. Corbett thanked him, slipped a coin into the fellow's hand and quietly closed the door behind him.

The room contained three beds with thick mattresses and heavy bolsters, probably of swan feather. Woollen rugs were strewn across the wooden floor and so many candles were lit that the chamber reminded Corbett of a church. After his gruelling journey, Corbett found it warm, sweet-smelling and comfortable. A chest stood at the foot of each bed, a large cupboard against the wall. There were two wall-paintings. One was of Christ arguing with Satan, done in brilliant, vivid colours so that in the flickering candelight the black demon seemed to writhe before Christ. The other was more restful; it was of a young lady working on a piece of tapestry beneath a window which looked out on to a light blue sea.

Ranulf and Maltote were already chatting. They sat on the edge of a bed, bemoaning the cold, wild emptiness of the countryside. The servants had already unpacked their saddlebags. Corbett's chancery pouch was, of course, untouched – it was buckled and secured with his personal seal. Corbett walked across the room and unfastened the shutters on one of the windows.