Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

his own entourage.
    ‘I don’t give a fig for the French, brother!’ William snapped. ‘You gave me your promise that the manor of Manningtree would be mine when I passed my thirtieth birthday.’
    ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Lord Henry replied. ‘Manningtree will stay with me.’
    ‘And me?’ William accused. ‘Am I to stay with you, brother? Become a hanger-on at your court? Feeding on scraps from your table?’
    ‘You are my dearest brother. You are my heir.’ Lord Henry pulled a face. ‘Well, until I marry and beget a thousand and one sons.’
    ‘Why can’t I have Manningtree?’
    ‘First, because I have said so. Secondly, I need it. And thirdly, brother, I want to keep you close. I don’t want you skulking off and plotting with some of my, let us say, disaffected knights. I’ve given you a choice. You can stay here and, in all things, be my brother. Or I can give you a hundred pounds, two good horses and a suit of armour and you can go and seek your fortune elsewhere. Until then,’ his grip tightened, ‘you will smile when I tell you to! You will do what I tell you to do!’
    His brother broke free and stood back, his hand going to the dagger in the belt around his waist.
    ‘What are you going to do, brother?’ Henry taunted. ‘Settle matters here?’ He stepped closer, his face now drained of any good humour. ‘Go on, sweet brother, draw your dagger, let’s have it out now. But, I tell you this.’ He grasped the hilt of his sword. ‘Your head will leave your shoulders before that dagger leaves its sheath. Now, play the man.’
    William’s hand fell away.
    ‘That’s a good boy.’ He was about to turn away.
    ‘Who’s the Owlman?’ William whispered.
    ‘Why, brother, he’s an outlaw, a wolfs-head, an irritant.’
    ‘But why does he threaten you? Those messages left pinned to the manor gate or shot into doors and shutters? A good archer, brother, why should he taunt you?’
    ‘Brother, I am a great lord,’ Lord Henry explained. ‘I come of ancient family as you do. I make enemies, not only among my own kith and kin, but further afield! One day I’ll go hunting, not the fallow or roe deer but the Owlman. When I catch him, I’ll hang him from my manor gate and that will be the end of the matter.’
    ‘He must hate you deeply?’
    ‘Brother, better to be hated than despised.’
    ‘And the French?’ William asked. ‘Why have they asked the King...?’
    ‘Why have they asked the King?’ Lord Henry interrupted, drawing so close William could smell his wine-drenched breath. ‘Why has the King asked me to lead an embassy to Paris to represent the Crown at the betrothal of the Lord Edward to the Princess Isabella? Yes.’ His eyes rounded in mock surprise. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m doing, William! Because I am what you are not! I am a great lord, a friend and confidant of the King. I am feared not only here but in places you’ve never even visited.’
    ‘Aye, feared and hated!’ William spat back. ‘You threaten me, like last night...’
    ‘ Mes excuses, brother.’ Henry drew closer. ‘I have only hinted at what I know, so now I will tell you! I know about the catamite Gaveston!’
    And, spinning on his heel, Lord Henry walked back to his squires.
    ‘Soon our quarry will be here,’ he reminded them. ‘Shall we agree a wager, gentlemen? That my arrow will bring the first deer down? That my arrow will go deep into the heart?’
    The murmur of conversation stilled. Lord Henry drained his cup and tossed it away.
    ‘Come, come, gentlemen, aren’t there any takers?’
    ‘I accept.’ Amaury de Craon raised a hand. ‘Ten pounds in gold, my lord.’
    The French envoy came forward, hand outstretched. Lord Henry clasped it, his eyes narrowing as de Craon held it fast, pulling him a little closer. The Frenchman’s dark eyes never wavered.
    ‘And when you come to Fontainebleau , Lord Henry, I can take you hunting in our forests.’
    ‘Seigneur Amaury, your wager is accepted. I will take your gold and my hand back.’
    The French envoy laughed and let go.
    ‘In France ,’ Lord Henry felt the anger boiling within him at this French envoy’s impudence, ‘I intend to go hunting for more than a deer.’
    His enigmatic remark had its effect. De Craon nervously licked his lips and his eyes shifted.
    ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Lord Henry reassured him, slipping his arm through that of the Frenchman and drawing away from the rest. ‘They know nothing of what I