Prince of Darkness

envoy, Monsieur de Craon, who could not be lightly turned away. Now, the Lady Eleanor was a young woman. She could have lived for years. In time she might even have threatened your own position. So you hired horsemen, God knows from where, though there are enough ex-soldiers around to do anything for silver.'
    Corbett rose and filled a goblet of wine. He looked at Lady Amelia questioningly but she shook her head. Corbett gulped the rich, red wine, relishing the way it warmed his stomach.
    'You prepared the ground well – those messages hidden away in the old oak tree. At first I thought someone climbed the wad and put them there, but on the night I was chased by Gaveston's dogs, I found that was an impossible feat The walls are sheer and any intruder would eventually be noticed, as he would if he came through the gate. I concluded the writer must be inside the priory.' Corbett paused. 'At first I thought it was Dame Agatha, but only you had the power and money to hire horsemen. Moreover, I could never understand why, on the very day horsemen were seen outside the priory, you permitted the Lady Eleanor not to attend Compline. On any other occasion you would have demanded her attendance. Moreover, you must have heard about or seen the horsemen hiding in the trees. Lady Eleanor's absence from Compline and the presence of these riders were no coincidence. You were hoping she would leave. The blame would fall on others and you and your priory would be well rid of her. But, of course, matters went terribly wrong. Lady Eleanor was killed and the riders left empty handed.'
    The Prioress just stared back at him.
    'You were frightened I might hear about these riders. That's why, the morning the porter took me down to the forest, you sent Dame Catherine after me to see where we were going. My Lady, I am correct?'
    'Yes, Corbett,' she replied harshly. 'You are correct. I resented Lady Eleanor Belmont's presence here. We may not be the strictest Order in the realm but Godstowe is a nunnery not a refuge for former whores. Moreover, I disliked the Lady Eleanor intensely, with her sorrowful face and moping ways. I went to Oxford on business. You know the city well. Desperate men can be hired. They had their orders. On that Sunday evening Lady Eleanor was instructed to meet them outside the Galilee Gate. Of course, to achieve that I needed the former whore's co-operation so I secretly sent her the messages.' She shrugged. 'The rest you know.'
    'What if she had left?' Corbett asked. 'I know suspicion would fall on the Prince, Lord Gaveston, the French, or even the King. But what was intended?'
    The Lady Prioress smiled.
    'Oh, nothing terrible. We have a sister house in Hainault just outside Dordrecht Lady Eleanor would have been comfortable but securely kept and I would have been happy.' She pulled a piece of parchment over to her. 'Now, Master Corbett, I am sure you must be as busy as I am.'
    She stared blankly down at the desk and, when she looked up, the clerk had gone. Conclusion
    In the great hall of Westminster Palace, Edward of England sat on his throne beneath the great hammer-beamed roof. Huge scarlet and gold banners hung overhead and members of his household had covered the walls with silken tapestries and thick silver- and gold-encrusted cloths. The floor in front of the dais had been swept clean and fresh rushes, cut from the river's edge, placed over the boards and sprinkled with herbs. Royal serjeants-at-arms in full steeled armour were ranged in serried ranks on either side of the throne, swords drawn, hilts point down. On each side of the King were the leading magnates and bishops of the realm and in front, seated along a trestle table covered in damask cloths, sat the senior clerks of the Chancery and Exchequer. Corbett was in the centre. The table in front of him had now been cleared of ad parchments except one long document, freshly inscribed and sealed: the betrothal indenture affiancing Edward, Prince of Wales, heir apparent to the English throne, to Isabella, 'the sole and beloved daughter' of Philip IV of France.
    Corbett watched de Craon approach and fix Philip IV's seal to the bottom of this document. The French envoy then went across and placed his hand on the huge copy of the gospels held between the gnarled fingers of Robert Winchelsea, Archbishop of Canterbury. De Craon, resplendent in robes of blue and white samite, proclaimed in clipped Norman French: 'How Philip, King of France, rejoiced that the