Assassin in the Greenwood

or fools and their castle or tower.' Corbett tapped the greasy piece of parchment. 'Some of my conclusions are based on guesswork but I have a rough map of the Flemish border towns and, using this cipher, have tried to discover which border town would fit the riddle.'
    'Why have you only used one half of the chess board?' Maltote crossly interrupted.
    'Don't you remember?' Ranulf snarled. 'The Riddle Master had neatly creased his chess board into two. Continue, Master,' Ranulf added with an air of superiority.
    'One word,' Corbett replied, 'fits the cipher based on this chess board and answers the riddle. COURTRAI!' Corbett wrote the name out carefully. 'The three kings are the letters A, I and U. The two knights or chevaliers are the letters C and O. The bishops or fools are the letter R twice whilst the castle or tower is the letter 'I.' Corbett unrolled a greasy piece of parchment displaying a crude map of the Franco-Flemish border. 'Courtrai is a good choice,' he mused. 'The Flemings would never expect the blow to fall there. What Philip intends to do is over-awe this city, force it to capitulate, then spread the news as his forces advance on the next.'
    'In other words,' Ranulf added, 'Philip does not intend to flood Flanders with soldiers but hop from one principal city to another?'
    Corbett threw his quill down. 'I think so,' he muttered. 'I hope so, because that's the best I can do. No other Flemish city agrees with this cipher.'
    'What now?' Ranulf asked.
    'Maltote, I want you and Ranulf to go into Nottingham and buy whatever victuals we need; a jug of wine, bread, fruit and marchpanes will suffice.'
    'And you, Master?'
    Corbett piled together the pieces of manuscript on his table.
    'I am going to write down all I have learnt or seen since arriving here. Everything I know about Sir Eustace's death as well as anything and everything I have discovered about this outlaw.' Corbett rubbed his eyes. 'I have suspicions, vague unsubstantiated ones, particularly after my journey to Kirklees. Now I want to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. If I can make no sense of it by this time tomorrow, we shall return to London. If I can…'Corbett shrugged. 'Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.'
    Ranulf and Maltote needed no second bidding, though on the stairs Ranulf told Maltote to wait and went back to see Corbett.
    'Master!' he called, closing the door softly behind him.
    'Yes, Ranulf?' Corbett asked. 'I thought you had gone.'
    'Your promise, Master.' Ranulf fairly danced from foot to foot. 'I mean, it was you who unlocked the secret of the cipher.'
    Corbett smiled. 'We don't know if it's correct, Ranulf. We won't know until Philip moves. In any case, you will be responsible. I shall tell His Grace the King that your involvement in this matter was invaluable.'
    'But what if it's wrong?' Ranulf cried, ever wary of what the future might hold.
    'In which case, Ranulf-atte-Newgate, it will be too late to do anything. By then the King will have given you a solemn promise to elevate you to the post of clerk in the Royal Chancery.'
    Ranulf fairly skipped down the steps. Once they were out of the castle, he solemnly assured Maltote that when he reached high office he, Ranulf-atte-Newgate, would not forget his friends.
    They visited Amisia at the tavern. Ranulf once again offered his condolences and gave more money to the landlord for Rahere's body to be treated, coffined and transported to St Mary's for burial.
    'What will happen to me?' Amisia asked, seated on the edge of the bed, her beautiful face now white and swollen with tears. The soft-hearted Maltote just stared at her pityingly whilst admiring Ranulf's delicate care of her.
    'Everything will be all right,' he assured her. 'Master Long Face, Sir Hugh Corbett,' he explained, 'has a great deal of influence at court. Tell me,' he added, 'did your brother own any property or tenements in England?'
    Ranulf could have bitten out his tongue for where else would Rahere have property, but Amisia didn't seem to notice. She closed her eyes and rocked herself gently.
    'We had money,' she answered, 'from the sale of our father's property and Rahere was always well supplied with gold and silver.'
    'And where did this come from?'
    'One of the Lombard bankers… Luigi Baldi. That's right!' Amisia's eyes opened. 'Luigi Baldi. He owns shops in London, in Lothbury.'
    'Then this is what we will do,' Ranulf confidently assured her. 'You will go to London and lodge with the