Crown in Darkness

watered wine was served while one of the brothers read from the Scriptures. Corbett sat impatiendy throughout, his only consolation being the amusement he derived from Ranulf s face as he ate his simple food amidst such sanctified surroundings. Once the meal was over and the thanksgiving intoned, Corbett whispered to Ranulf to return to their chamber while he sought an interview with the Prior. The latter readily agreed, inviting Corbett to walk with him in the silent, shadowy cloisters, taking advantage of the first soft breezes of early summer. For a while they strolled in silence before Corbett began to ask the Prior about his vocation to the monastic life, enjoying the sardonic replies and surprised to find that the Prior was both a distant kinsman to Robert Bruce and a keen herbalist, interested in medicine, with a passion for concocting simples, potions and cures. Corbett gently led the conversation on to the late King and was surprised at the outburst he drew. 'A good, strong ruler,' the Prior commented, 'but as a man, well…' his voice trailed off, leaving the silence to be broken only by the sound of his sandalled feet pattering against the slabstones. 'What do you mean?' Corbett asked. 'I mean,' the Prior heatedly retorted, 'he was a lecher, who forsook his duties. For ten, eleven years he was a widower with every opportunity to marry and beget a son. Instead, he pursues his lusts, marries late and then dies in pursuit of that lust, leaving Scotland without an heir.' Corbett noted that the bitter anger deep within the Prior was about to well over and tactfully he remained silent. 'Even here,' the Prior continued, 'in the Abbey of the Holy Rood, he pursued his lusts! A young noblewoman, a widow on a journey to her late husband's grave, but the King came and saw her. He pursued her, showering her with gifts, jewels and precious cloths. Then he seduced her, not in his castle or one of his manors but here in open defiance of his vows and ours. I remonstrated with him but he just laughed in my face.' The Prior paused. 'A fitting end,' he commented. 'God save him and pity him. I should have attended that Council meeting you know?' he added more lightly, 'but I was busy, I sent my excuses. Who knows, perhaps I could have prevailed with him.' He lapsed into silence and
    Corbett, stealing a sideways glance, noted, even in the shadowy moonlight, how tense and bitter the Prior had become. 'Father,' Corbett cautiously asked, 'you say the King almost brought about his own death?' The Prior pursed his lips and nodded. 'Then,' Corbett continued, 'did others think that? I mean, would this be the source of the many prophecies that some evil would befall the King?' The Prior shrugged and continued to walk, his hand leaning gendy on Corbett's arm. 'Yes,' he answered. 'People did think the King acted rashly but there were other prophecies, not just pious speculation. These were uttered by that strange creature, Thomas the Rhymer, or Thomas of Learmouth.' 'Why strange?' 'In both appearance and ways. He is for ever issuing his four-line stanzas predicting the future for individuals or even entire families. A strange man with a mysterious past. There are rumours that he disappeared for nine years in Elfland!' 'Could I meet him?' Corbett asked brusquely. 'Is it possible?' The Prior turned and smiled thinly. 'I wondered why you wanted to speak to me. Thomas is a minor laird; he holds land near Earlston in Roxburghshire. I know him, I have even protected him on a number of occasions against scurrilous attacks by fellow priests.' He stopped and put a hand on Corbett's shoulder. 'I will write to him and see what I can do, but be careful, Hugh, be very careful!'

TEN
    The next morning, the Prior, true to his word, immediately sent off a courier to Thomas of Learmouth whilst Corbett despatched one of his retinue with his letter to Burnell. Corbett had been accompanied north by four messengers – chosen by the Chancellor from his own household. They had stayed in the abbey kicking their heels and helping with administrative tasks to pay their way; now, one of them was only too happy to take the letter and ride south with Corbett's instructions ringing in his ears. After that Corbett just had to wait, pleased to rest and stay in the monastery where he felt secure and safe. He studied the draft of the report he had sent to Burnell and re-examined it, going over time and again all he had learnt since his arrival in Scotland. The more he