Crown in Darkness

made their way down to the ferry and across the Forth. The ferrymaster regaled them with spicy stories about the comings and goings of King Alexander. Ranulf laughed and baited him, Corbett heard him out until they had reached the jetty at Dalmeny. 'Tell me,' he said, 'the other ferryman, you said he had a widow. Where does she live?' The ferryman pointed to a thatched, low-roofed timbered hut further along the shoreline. 'You'll find her there, poor woman. Joan Taggart. Her husband only received the letters patent from the King to act as ferryman just before his death.' Corbett nodded; he told Ranulf to collect and saddle their horses while he walked down to Joan Taggart's house. A small, brown-haired woman met him at the door, surrounded by a group of noisy, dirty children who eyed Corbett boldly, then ran to hide and giggle behind their mother's skirts. Corbett bowed. 'Joan Taggart?' he said. 'Aye.' 'I am Hugh Corbett, clerk. I wish to talk to you about your husband's death. I do not wish to upset you.' The woman just stared at him. 'Do you speak English?' 'I am English,' the woman replied abrupdy. 'I come from the border lands. What do you want with my husband's death?' 'He died the same night as the King?' Corbett asked. 'He didn't die,' replied Joan, 'he was murdered, but no one believes me.' She turned and shooed the flock of children away. 'Nobody believes me,' she continued, 'but my husband was a sailor, he knew the water.' She squinted up at the sun. 'A Frenchman, I don't know who, was using him. The same day the King died, late in the morning, this mysterious Frenchman hired my husband's boat and services to take him across to Inverkeithing. My husband came back excited and said he would be going out again late in the evening. The storm came up and burst on the Forth. I begged my husband to stay but he was excited. He said the Frenchman would pay generously.' 'And then what?' Corbett asked. 'He left.' The woman stopped speaking, blinked back the tears from her eyes and swallowed before continuing. 'The next morning, he was found, head down, bobbing like some stupid cork in the shallow water.' 'And his boat?' Corbett queried. 'Still tied up,' the woman replied. 'The coroner came and said my husband must have been drunk, fell and drowned. After all, there was no mark on the body.' 'So, what makes you think it was murder?' Corbett persisted with his questioning. Joan pushed the greying hair from her brow. 'At first,' she replied slowly, 'I accepted it was an accident but then later, when it was too late to do anything about it, I remembered the way the boat had been tied up.' She looked directly at Corbett. 'Every sailor has his own way of tying a knot. My husband's boat was beached and tied but he never fastened that knot. I believe he went out that night with the Frenchman, whoever he is, and crossed the Forth. When he returned, he was murdered. His boat beached and tied up by other hands, probably the same ones which murdered him.' Corbett stared past her at the timbered house. 'You are sure,' he questioned, 'that it was a Frenchman?' 'Yes, my husband called him that. Why, do you know him?' Corbett thought of de Craon's evil smirk and then Bruce with his cruel mouth and perfect knowledge of French. 'No, Madam,' he lied. 'I know no one of that nationality. But why do you not tell the authorities, petition the Council?' Joan shrugged. 'And who would believe me?' 'True, Madam! True!' Corbett muttered, bowed and was about to turn away when the woman caught his arm. 'Sir!' she exclaimed. 'My children and I now starve!' Corbett looked into her harassed face and fearful eyes and, digging into his purse, drew out some coins and handed them to her. 'Thank you,' he said. 'Perhaps I can do more! I will see what I can do.'
    Corbett strode back to where Ranulf and his companions sat with the horses. 'Make yourselves comfortable here,' he snapped. 'I intend to return across the Forth. 'Tis a minor matter,' he continued, ignoring Ranulf s groan, 'but there is something I must find.' He then went down the slope to where the ferrymaster was preparing to beach his craft. 'I wish to return,' Corbett said. The man shrugged. 'It will cost you.' 'Yes, I know,' answered Corbett testily. 'But this time I want to land, not at Inverkeithing but,' he stared across the water, 'at some secret place far from public view where I could stable a horse without arousing suspicion or interest.' The ferryman nodded. 'Yes, I know of such a