Read Online Satan in St Mary by Paul C. Doherty - Free Book Online
Authors: Paul C. Doherty
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the coroner, where he made his request of a rather surprised and now petulant official. Of course, the coroner was shocked at his request, but when Corbett argued his case and flourished
Burnell's writ, he reluctantly agreed and sent a servant to the Guildhall with a message. He told Corbett that it would take some time so Corbett decided to visit the stalls and booths along Cheapside.
It was late in the afternoon when he returned to the coroner's house to find two burly individuals carrying spades and a hoe lounging dejectedly outside the door. Inside the coroner was mixing some evil-smelling paste and beside him, looking almost ill with the smell, was a tall, young man with shoulder-length greasy hair, poxed face and sallow features. The coroner introduced him as Stephen Novile, bailiff of the city and, with little ceremony, ushered both of them to the door. The bailiff seemed relieved to be going, though wary of Corbett.
"You know what you are doing, Master Clerk?" The voice was a high treble, almost squeaky.
"Yes, " Corbett replied. "I want you and your assistants, " he turned to nod at the wooden-looking labourers, "to take me where Duket's body is buried in the city ditch. I am on the King's business, " he continued crisply. "The body belongs to a suicide and so we are not disturbing hallowed ground. The coroner sent for all three of you as I understand that you were responsible for the burial. Yes?"
The bailiff nodded, his thin lips pursed, his shifty watery eyes unable to hold Corbett's gaze. He snapped his fingers at the two labourers and all four set off silently up Cheapside, through the shambles, past Newgate and across the old city walls.
The bailiff then turned to the right and walked down Cock Lane, a narrow rutted track with an open sewer running down the centre. It was an area notorious for its prostitutes, many of whom stood in the darkened doorways, their hair dyed and faces heavily painted. Dressed in eye-catching red and orange, they called out invitations couched in the lewdest way to every passer-by. One of them evidently recognized the bailiff and, for a short while, ran alongside them giving a graphic description of the man's sexual prowess in bed. The bailiff, his face plum-coloured with anger and embarrassment, squeaked with indignation. Corbett tried to hide his smiles and ignore the evident amusement of the two labourers who would have encouraged the woman even further if the bailiff had not turned and glared at them.
At last, they found themselves before the great city ditch which ran the entire length of the city wall. Twenty feet wide, its true depth unknown, the ditch had served the city as both sewer and cesspit since the days of King John the Angevin. The smell was indescribable and Corbett immediately pulled the hem of his cloak up over his mouth and nose. The ditch was full of refuse frozen hard by the winter cold and Corbett could only guess what it was like in the full heat of summer. The bailiff had come forearmed and he held a wine-soaked rag to his nose though the two labourers seemed oblivious to it all, walking backwards and forwards along the edge of the ditch, talking and mumbling as they tried to locate the actual spot where Duket was buried.
Corbett did not envy them their task, the ditch was full of refuse, already he had seen a rat gnawing and tugging at some mud-encrusted lump. The place was a dumping ground for dead cats, dogs, unwanted babies as well as the corpses of executed criminals and suicides. The labourers finally decided on the spot and began to dig then, cursing each other, the task and, with angry glances at Corbett, interfering clerks, chose another spot where they shovelled once again. Corbett turned his back on them and looked across the still frozen fields until shouts and cries behind him made him turn back to the city ditch.
"They have found the corpse, Master Clerk!" the bailiff shouted. "Come and have a look!" Corbett moved over, noting that the
Burnell's writ, he reluctantly agreed and sent a servant to the Guildhall with a message. He told Corbett that it would take some time so Corbett decided to visit the stalls and booths along Cheapside.
It was late in the afternoon when he returned to the coroner's house to find two burly individuals carrying spades and a hoe lounging dejectedly outside the door. Inside the coroner was mixing some evil-smelling paste and beside him, looking almost ill with the smell, was a tall, young man with shoulder-length greasy hair, poxed face and sallow features. The coroner introduced him as Stephen Novile, bailiff of the city and, with little ceremony, ushered both of them to the door. The bailiff seemed relieved to be going, though wary of Corbett.
"You know what you are doing, Master Clerk?" The voice was a high treble, almost squeaky.
"Yes, " Corbett replied. "I want you and your assistants, " he turned to nod at the wooden-looking labourers, "to take me where Duket's body is buried in the city ditch. I am on the King's business, " he continued crisply. "The body belongs to a suicide and so we are not disturbing hallowed ground. The coroner sent for all three of you as I understand that you were responsible for the burial. Yes?"
The bailiff nodded, his thin lips pursed, his shifty watery eyes unable to hold Corbett's gaze. He snapped his fingers at the two labourers and all four set off silently up Cheapside, through the shambles, past Newgate and across the old city walls.
The bailiff then turned to the right and walked down Cock Lane, a narrow rutted track with an open sewer running down the centre. It was an area notorious for its prostitutes, many of whom stood in the darkened doorways, their hair dyed and faces heavily painted. Dressed in eye-catching red and orange, they called out invitations couched in the lewdest way to every passer-by. One of them evidently recognized the bailiff and, for a short while, ran alongside them giving a graphic description of the man's sexual prowess in bed. The bailiff, his face plum-coloured with anger and embarrassment, squeaked with indignation. Corbett tried to hide his smiles and ignore the evident amusement of the two labourers who would have encouraged the woman even further if the bailiff had not turned and glared at them.
At last, they found themselves before the great city ditch which ran the entire length of the city wall. Twenty feet wide, its true depth unknown, the ditch had served the city as both sewer and cesspit since the days of King John the Angevin. The smell was indescribable and Corbett immediately pulled the hem of his cloak up over his mouth and nose. The ditch was full of refuse frozen hard by the winter cold and Corbett could only guess what it was like in the full heat of summer. The bailiff had come forearmed and he held a wine-soaked rag to his nose though the two labourers seemed oblivious to it all, walking backwards and forwards along the edge of the ditch, talking and mumbling as they tried to locate the actual spot where Duket was buried.
Corbett did not envy them their task, the ditch was full of refuse, already he had seen a rat gnawing and tugging at some mud-encrusted lump. The place was a dumping ground for dead cats, dogs, unwanted babies as well as the corpses of executed criminals and suicides. The labourers finally decided on the spot and began to dig then, cursing each other, the task and, with angry glances at Corbett, interfering clerks, chose another spot where they shovelled once again. Corbett turned his back on them and looked across the still frozen fields until shouts and cries behind him made him turn back to the city ditch.
"They have found the corpse, Master Clerk!" the bailiff shouted. "Come and have a look!" Corbett moved over, noting that the
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