Crown in Darkness

place, but it is going to cost you even more. You had best get in.' They both clambered aboard and the man pulled the boat out into the main current. As he rowed, the man explained. 'There are,' he said, 'caves up from the beach, just across the Forth to the west of Inverkeithing. I will take you there.'
    The man was true to his word. They landed on a sandy, gravel beach; above them rose cliffs which ran along the entire coast. The ferryman indicated with a wave of his hand. 'If you go up there,' he said, 'you will see them. They are like small chambers; they were once used by pirates, only His Grace, the late King, cleared them out with fire, sword, and gallows. Do you wish me to stay?' 'Yes,' Corbett said. 'If I am not successful in finding what I am looking for I shall return and tell you.'
    Corbett slipped another coin into the man's hand and, while the ferryman made himself comfortable in the shadow of his boat, Corbett began the long arduous climb up the hill. Soon he reached the top where the hills levelled out and stretched to the hard rock face of the towering cliffs. He immediately saw what the ferrymaster had been talking about. At the base of these cliffs, almost as if they had been hewn in the rock by men, were three, four or five cave-mouths, chamber-like, as if they were a row of monastic cells in some monastery. Corbett made his way through the thick clogged sand and entered the first one. There were signs of human habitation, scraps of litter, faint smells, broken pottery, strange markings on the walls of the caves which seemed to stretch for ever down into the blackness beneath the cliffs. Corbett's heart sank when he noticed this. If all the chambers were as long as this, or if they were only used by people who had gone down deep into them, then his search would take months. He decided to go on to the second and third caves, determined to find what he was looking for. In the fourth cavern he did. Just within the entrance there were mounds of horse dung. He picked some up in his hand and crumbled it. Corbett reckoned horses had been stabled there within the last two or three months. There were other signs, a ragged, empty bag bearing traces of oats and a clump of dark wet material which, Corbett realised, was once hay. Satisfied, he knelt and cleansed his hands in a pool of salt water and walked back down to where the ferryman was patiently waiting for him.

FOURTEEN
    After recrossing the Forth, Corbett joined his party. Their journey back began uneventfully. They crossed Dalmeny bridge and were in open countryside when the attackers struck. Five or six men, horsed, masked and well-armed, burst from a clump of trees and bore down on them. Corbett grabbed the crossbow, already loaded, which swung from his saddlebow and brought it up, aimed and sent the quarrel deep into the chest of the leading rider. Then the rest were amongst them, slashing with short-sword, mace and club. Ranulf and his companions drew their swords and cut, thrust and screamed at their assailants. Corbett whirled his big Welsh dagger, dug his spurs in and, shouting at the rest to follow him, broke through and galloped from the trees where the ambush had taken place. It was a tactic Corbett had seen used in Wales, cavalry never stopping to confront an enemy but breaking away, eluding the trap. Corbett saw two of the assailants go down screaming, clutching red spouting wounds and hoped the rest would be too chastened to follow, surprised by the fierce resistance they had encountered.
    After a while, Corbett called a halt; his horse was half-blown and he realised there was no sign of any pursuit. He was unscathed but almost sick with fear.
    Ranulf had bruises and cuts on his hands, arms and legs but one of the others, a young man, had received a terrible slash across his stomach and Corbett knew the fellow would be dead very soon. The blood poured out from the gash while he groaned and begged for water. Corbett gave it to him, knowing it might hasten his end. They took him from his horse, and laid him tenderly on the ground; Ranulf stood watch while they waited quietly for the man to die. He did, on a frothy gurgle of blood. Corbett said the "Miserere" and "Requiem" realising he did not even know the man's name. Someone's brother, baby son, or lover he thought and now he was gone: Corbett looked down at the corpse and felt the futility of the death. He ordered a cloak to be draped and tied round the body which was then slung over a