Crown in Darkness

answered emphatically. The only visitor was the messenger who arrived about that time and left a message that the King would be coming to Kinghorn later that day!' 'You are sure?' 'I am certain. The only visitor who came to Kinghorn was Benstede, who came the day before.' 'What did he want?' Corbett snapped. 'How should I know?' the purveyor crossly replied. 'He came with that strange quiet creature, stayed with the Queen for a while and then left.' 'Did the King come to Kinghorn frequently?' 'At first, yes, and he often summoned the Queen to meet him across the Forth, but in the weeks before he died, his visits became less frequent. A man of impetuous passion,' the purveyor drunkenly concluded. 'Is it possible for me to see the Queen now?' Corbett asked. Alexander shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'She will not see anybody today. Perhaps tomorrow,' he looked speculatively at Corbett. 'Perhaps, for a consideration, I might be able to arrange something.' Corbett slipped a silver coin across the table. 'I would be grateful for that.' He nodded at Alexander, rose and returned to Ranulf.
    They were able to pay to stay in a small chamber of the manor and bought their meals at the kitchen and buttery. Corbett was worried as the silver Burnell had furnished him with was nearly gone. He had some more coins stitched into his broad leather pouched belt as well as his own money, but he did not wish to use that. When he returned to London it would take months of arguing with some scrupulous clerk of the Exchequer to get it reimbursed. Corbett only hoped the Queen would see him soon. She did not. The next day, and the day after, his requests for an audience met with a blunt refusal and the clerk had to stay and hope for the best. He met Agnes, the brazen lady-in-waiting, whom he had met on his last visit to Kinghorn. She flirted outrageously, promising that she would secure an interview for him with the Queen but she always seemed to fail. Corbett became tired of her constant witticisms and sly innuendoes so she transferred her attention to Ranulf, who was overjoyed to see the tedium of staying in a manor on the Scottish coast so pleasantly broken. They became constant companions and Corbett often found them playing cat's-cradle in some corner or window embrasure.
    For his part, Corbett could only fret and decided to draw up a memorandum on what he had learnt so far:
    – Why did Benstede visit the Queen?
    – Why did the French envoy take a ferry across the Forth but never arrive at Kinghorn?
    – Who delivered the message at Kinghorn gate, a letter to the Queen saying the King could be arriving that evening and telling her to instruct the purveyor to have horses at Inverkeithing, particularly his favourite, the white Tamesin? More mysterious, why was such a message delivered hours before the King actually decided to leave for Kinghorn.
    – Most importantly, what did Alexander learn at that Council meeting which changed his attitude, sending him on a journey in very dangerous conditions to court a queen he could scarcely be bothered with a few weeks before?
    – Why, when the King did not arrive at Kinghorn, did Queen Yolande not send out a search-party? What was the real reason behind Queen Yolande's false pregnancy?
    Corbett studied the list wearily. He was making no real progress. Perhaps, he decided, it was time to leave and report his failure to Burnell. He tried once more to see the Queen but her fat, pompous chamberlain rudely announced that Lady Yolande was leaving Scotland and had no wish to discuss anything with anyone. Corbett dejectedly decided to stay a little longer in Kinghorn and then leave. Meanwhile, he asked Ranulf to learn what he could from his new-found paramour though, privately, he believed nothing would come of that. Two more days passed, the Queen sent no invitation so Corbett angrily ordered Ranulf to pack. His servant protested but Corbett was adamant so the young man prepared to leave. Ranulf muttered indignantly against his strange master who dragged him across this wild country so different from the narrow streets of London and so utterly tedious as well. Now, when he had found a pot of honey, Corbett was hurrying him away. Ranulf thought of the Lady Agnes and moaned; she had proved a fiery lover from the time he had first flung her on her back and lifted her lace-trimmed skirts. After that she needed no invitation and, when he was lying exhausted beside her, she would send him into loud peals of