Then there were the Pastoureaux? Were they fanatics, simpletons or saints? Would it be worthwhile writing to the chancery or the exchequer about them? He began to list names. First there was Master Joseph. Who was he? Why did Ranulf recognize him? Next, Marina, daughter of Fulke the tanner: why had she left the Hermitage and what was she doing out on the moors?

Corbett's list of names began to seem endless. He added Amelia Fourbour, the baker's wife. Why did she go out to the scaffold? Why hadn't she struggled? Why were there no signs of another horse at the scene? Who had ridden her horse back to the edge of the village?

Corbett wearily rubbed his eyes and sat staring for a while. He sighed, sipped from his cup of posset and continued writing.

Father Augustine: a stranger in the area, not really at home with the people of his parish. Dame Cecily: shrewd but luxury-loving. Robert the reeve: what was the source of his newly found wealth? Corbett put his pen down. He folded his arms on the table and studied his list of names. Other questions jostled in his mind. Who was disturbing old graves in the churchyard? How had Dame Agnes fallen to her death? He rose from his chair and stared into the shadows at the far end of the room. One question in particular kept nagging him. Why had he and Monck been sent here? What was so important that the king should send a trusted and confidential servant to assist the Earl of Surrey's right-hand man in, ostensibly, the investigation of a few admittedly bizarre murders?

Corbett returned to sit at his desk and thought back to his last meeting with the king. Edward had refused to meet his eye, but had kept shuffling from foot to foot, more engrossed with a peregrine jingling its jesses on a perch. John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, had also been present. Bland-faced, he kept stroking his mouth as if concealing a grin or some secret joke.