Crown in Darkness

to himself and goaded his horse over the track, across the flimsiest of bridges and up into the village of Dalmeny. It was really more of a hamlet, a collection of long houses built with timber, wattle and daub on cobbled footings while thatched roofs covered both living-quarters and byre. These were scattered round a large green where gaunt cattle cropped hungrily at the sparse spring grass. Half-naked babies played in the dust, watched over by a group of red-haired, green-eyed women. They simply stared at Corbett before continuing their conversations in a fast, guttural dialect. Corbett passed on, down a steep hill which gave him a splendid view of the Forth and the small ferry-port below him. The monks had described the route carefully, adding that the ferry-port was often called
    Queen's Ferry, being the route used by Saint Margaret, the English Queen of the great King Malcolm Conmore, whenever she crossed the Forth.
    The cob gingerly picked its way down along the loose shale track and approached the thatched, wattle-daubed long hut which stood near a crudely-built jetty. The ferrymaster was waiting for custom; a big, bald, brawny fellow with a weather-beaten face and a perpetual toothless smile. He was a sailor who understood English and promptly agreed to ferry Corbett across the Forth, adding a few coins to the price for looking after his horse and saddle. Soon, they were making their way across the water; Corbett sat in the stern while the fellow heaved and panted as he worked the oars. Corbett nonchalantly asked if he had taken the late King across; the ferryman nodded, turned and spat into the water. 'Could you tell me what happened?' Corbett asked. His companion grunted, turned and spat again, so Corbett laid a gold piece on the board before him and the man grinned. 'It was a raw night,' he said, relaxing the oars and letting the skiff dance on the gentle swell. 'A strong easterly wind had been raging for days, driving the water up the Forth. I was in my house, tucked in with my woman when there came a pounding on the door. I saw from the window that it was two squires, wearing the royal livery, wet and bedraggled, who bawled that His Grace, the King of Scotland, demanded passage. I opened the door and they entered. The King behind them. I knew it was he, large-framed, red-haired, with the eyes and nose of an eagle. I had seen him many times cross the Forth.' The ferryman stopped, smiled slyly and went to pick up the coin, so Corbett drew the long dagger from beneath his cloak. The ferryman shrugged, laughed and continued. 'I went down on my knees but the King bellowed at me to get up and prepare my skiff. I tried to reason with him but the King asked if I was afraid of dying. I replied I was, though more than prepared to die with him.' 'What did the King do?' Corbett asked. The ferryman grimaced. 'Roared with laughter and tossed me a purse of coins. So I got the skiff ready.' 'Was the King drunk?' Corbett asked quietly. 'No,' the fellow replied. 'He had been drinking deep but he was not in his cups.' 'Then what?' 'I took him and his two squires across. Landed them, waited till morning and then returned.' 'Why wait till morning?' Corbett asked. 'Because of the storm,' the ferryman replied caustically. 'One ferryman died that night, Simon Taggart,' he pointed back to the shore we had left. 'His body was found in the shallows. Quite drowned. His widow says that he, too, tried to cross the Forth that night but died.' He turned and spat over the side. 'Poor bastard! He should have known better!' 'So, someone else crossed that night?' Corbett asked. The ferryman shrugged. 'Not necessarily, Simon could have been trying to transport goods. Anyway, many people die in the Forth.' 'When you got over,' Corbett insisted. 'Did you see or hear anything untoward?' 'Like what?' the ferryman snapped back. 'Why, should there have been? No,' he continued, 'as soon as we entered the shallows, the King, followed by his squires, jumped out and waded ashore. There was someone waiting. I heard voices, the neighing and movement of horses. Then he was gone. When I beached the boat there was only the royal purveyor standing, soaking wet on the beach, loudly cursing the King's mad escapades.' 'Then what?' Corbett interrupted again. 'Then nothing,' the ferryman replied. 'The purveyor disappeared into the darkness, I made my boat secure and went to sleep in a hut.' 'That is all?' 'That is all,' he replied firmly and, grabbing the oars,