Crown in Darkness

It was deserted except for a group sitting round one table being served ale by the frightened proprietor. A slattern, evidently his wife, looked on fearfully. A group of children, their dirty faces streaked with tears, clung to her tattered gown and stared round-eyed at the group of men who had commandeered the room and were now talking quickly in an alien language. Corbett immediately recognised de Craon, who rose as he entered, gave a half-mocking bow and waved him to a stool. 'It was good of you to come, Master Clerk,' he said in perfect English with only a trace of a French accent. 'I understand that you have been very busy in Edinburgh asking many questions, poking your nose into matters that do not concern you. Here,' he pushed a cup of ale towards Corbett. 'Come. Drink this. Tell us about the real reason you are here.' 'Why don't you ask Benstede?' Corbett retorted. 'You have no right to detain me here. Neither the English nor the Scottish courts will be happy to hear that French envoys are detaining people at their whim!' De Craon shrugged, his hands extended in an expansive gesture. 'But, Monsieur Corbett, we are not detaining you. We have asked you here and you have accepted our invitation. You are free to come and go as you wish. But,' he continued smoothly, 'now that you are here, I know you are too curious to let the matter drop.' He sat back on his stool, his brown, beringed hands gently folded in his lap, staring at Corbett like some understanding elder brother or patronising uncle. Corbett moved the cup of ale back across the table. 'No, you tell me, Monsier de Craon, why you are here and why you wish to speak to me?' 'We are here,' de Craon began smoothly, 'to represent our master's interests and to establish a better relationship between King Philip IV and the Scottish throne. We were achieving considerable successes right up to the moment of the late King's sudden and unfortunate death in which you show a great deal of interest.' 'Yes, it does interest me,' Corbett replied tersely. 'I am a good clerk. I am here at the request of the English court and they, like Philip IV, are interested in any information we can send.' De Craon shook his head slowly in disbelief. 'All of that,' he replied, 'could be done by Benstede, so why are you here?' He wagged an admonitory finger to fend off any protest from Corbett. 'I believe that you are not really interested in Alexander Ill's fall from a cliff. There are other secret reasons. Perhaps an alliance with the Bruces or the Comyns? Perhaps you even bear a secret claim by King Edward himself to be ruler of Scotland!'
    Corbett stared at de Craon in amazement. He suddenly realised that the French really did believe that he was here on a secret and delicate diplomatic mission on Edward I's behalf, that his interest in Alexander Ill's death was mere drapery, a trick to conceal his true task. The ridiculousness of the situation made him smile and, throwing his head back, he burst into peals of laughter. De Craon started forward, his face flushed with anger, and Corbett drew back, believing that de Craon was on the point of striking him. 'I didn't know you found us so amusing!' Corbett composed himself. 'I don't,' he replied sternly, 'and I did not find the incident last night entertaining or acceptable!' The Frenchman simply shrugged and glanced away. 'Moreover,' Corbett added, 'you seem to have answered your own questions. Are you, Monsieur de Craon, here too to make a secret alliance to take advantage of a kingdom without a king?' 'What do you mean?' de Craon snapped back. 'I mean,' Corbett said forcefully, 'that for two decades Alexander III ruled this country with little or no assistance from the French. Now he is dead with no strong heir. Is it not possible that French influence can be made to be felt once more? 'And what about your master?' de Craon almost shouted. 'You know that Bruce is a friend of his! 'What do you mean?' Corbett innocently enquired. 'I mean that Bruce, like Edward, went on crusade and that Bruce gave Edward every assistance in his civil war against the now dead Simon de Montfort. He fought at Lewes on Edward's behalf and at other battles. Bruce has a claim to the Scottish throne. Why should Edward now object to his old friend and comrade-in-arms seizing the Scottish crown?' Corbett rose from his stool and sent it flying back with a crash. He sensed de Craon's comrades behind him, tense, expectant, ready to act. 'Why not?' he asked