Angel of Death

administered. The answer to either of these questions will lead us to the truth.'
    The king went back and sat on the bench, his legs apart, head in hands. He rubbed his face, a favourite gesture, toyed with one of the many precious rings on his fingers and looked up at Corbett.
    'I know you, Clerk. You have not come here to tell me the obvious. You have come here to ask something haven't you?'
    Yes, Your Grace.'
    'Then for God's sake,' the king bellowed, 'ask it!' Corbett took a deep breath.
    'I don't think anyone would believe, Your Grace, the wine you sent to de Montfort was poisoned by you, but they might ask why you sent the wine in the first place.'
    The king shrugged. 'A gift, a peace offering.'
    Corbett rose, picked up a stool and walked over to sit close to the king. 'Your Grace, you know I am your obedient servant.' Edward looked at him warily. 'Your Grace,' Corbett repeated, 'I am your obedient servant, but if you wish to find out the truth then, with all respect, I must urge you to tell me the truth. You hated the de Montfort family. You hated the Dean of St Paul's. He was going to denounce you and your taxes before the entire English Church. His words would have gone abroad to the Pope in Avignon, to King Philip in Paris, to the Archbishops and Bishops of Scotland and Wales. So why did you send him the wine?' Corbett licked his lips. 'It could not be a bribe, not to a man like de Montfort. You would need the wealth of an abbey to buy a man like that.'
    The king smiled. 'You have a sharp brain, Master Corbett. Sometimes too sharp.' The king rose and walked restlessly round the room. 'But you are wrong. De Montfort was not going to denounce me. In fact, I had bribed him already. I had bought him, Master Clerk. In his speech after mass he was not going to attack the Crown's claims on the Church's revenues but support them.' The king paused to watch Corbett's astonishment. 'You see,
    Master Clerk, you are probably an honest man. In your own lights an incorruptible one. You make the mistake of thinking that because you do something or think something, other people do the same. But they do not.' The king jangled the purse which swung from the gold, jewel-encrusted belt lashed round his waist. 'Silver and gold, Master Corbett. I bought de Montfort. A mixture of bribes and threats.' 'And the wine?'
    'The wine was sent, Master Corbett, as a gesture to seal our understanding. De Montfort liked the luxuries of the world. Your investigations will prove my suspicions correct. You see, Corbett, yesterday, I was not angry about de Montfort's death but I was angry that he had not at least lived to deliver the sermon I had bought. I virtually wrote it for him myself – chapter and verse. It went back in history: how the Church in this country had constantly supported the monarchs. How Erconwald himself, Bishop of London, the great Saxon by whose tomb I stood yesterday, had done so much for the city, the king and the kingdom.
    'I am still angry de Montfort is dead, and I need to find the assassins. Did they kill him for some private reason, or did they kill him because they knew he had been bought? Body and soul de Montfort was mine. His killer is my enemy and I suspect sits close, even at the right hand, of that pompous treacherous prig, Robert Winchelsea, Archbishop of Canterbury.'
    The king's chest heaved and Corbett noted that Edward was on the verge of one of his notorious royal rages. The king smacked his hands together and his pacing became more vigorous.
    'I can tolerate bishops who oppose me for the right reasons, Master Clerk, but not Winchelsea! He has sly conniving ways, scurrying to Rome, to Avignon, appearing to be a saint, a Becket in finer clothes. Winchelsea is a politician who plots against me. He would like me to be beholden to him. He sees himself as a defender of the Church's liberties. I suspect,' the king almost spat the words out, 'he would relish the fate of Becket and, if he is not careful, he may well meet it.'
    Corbett shrugged. The king, watching him closely, returned to sit on the trunk facing him, his anger apparently forgotten.
    'You seem surprised, Master Clerk.'
    'I am surprised, Your Grace,' Corbett replied. 'Because if I accept what you say, I must also accept the premise that someone discovered that de Montfort had been bought and then killed him. I still believe, however, that whoever murdered de Montfort wished to strike at you.'
    'But they have done just that,' the king replied.