The rest had already mounted their horses. Ranulf and Maltote were trying to hide their smiles at the sight of the fat physician being bundled into the saddle and Father Augustine looked decidedly ill-at-ease on a rather sorry-looking roan. Corbett and Gurney mounted. The gates were thrown open and they followed the trackway out of the manor and across the moors. In the distance, Corbett could hear the thunder of the surf. Now and again rabbits, startled by the hoofbeats, darted across the gorse in a flurry of fur; short, fat-tailed sheep scattered, bleating, before the horses. The mist was still thick and Gurney shouted to them to keep together. At one time they had to rein in as he led them around a small, weed-fringed marsh.

'It's treacherous country,' he said from the depths of his cowl. 'Hugh, be wary where you go. Try and keep to the paths. The same applies to the beach. The tides are fickle. Sometimes they come in slowly like the night, at others they will rush in to catch the unwary.'

'Which is the point of my story last night,' Physician Selditch spoke up. 'The whole coastline of the Wash is treacherous. Sudden tidal surges can make trickling streams into full-grown rivers, as King John found to his cost.'

'Was the gold never recovered?' Ranulf asked, intrigued by the prospect of a royal treasure lying nearby, waiting to be discovered.

'There are many legends,' Selditch replied. 'Some say that beneath Sir Simon's land a royal ransom waits to be collected.'

He broke off as they cleared the marsh and Gurney urged them forward. Corbett realized that Gurney was leading them further inland, along a well-beaten path; they were travelling south, keeping the coast to their left. He pushed his horse alongside Gurney's.

'What is the Hermitage?' he asked.

'It's really an old farmstead, a small outlying manor. The soil around it is rather poor. In my father's time it fell derelict. Sometimes it was used by shepherds and the people of the roads, travelling friars, anyone.'