Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

the wine was making him morose and sulky. Corbett stretched forward, picked up the sword and let it drop back with a crash on to the table, where it skittered about on the polished surface.
    ‘De Craon? You also mentioned Gaveston!’ Sir William lifted his head, a half-smile on his drunken face.
    ‘Ah, I see how this game goes,’ Corbett said, leaning his elbows on the table. ‘You will answer my questions if I protect you from the King.’
    ‘Sir Hugh, I did nothing wrong. The Prince of Wales came down here. It’s well known that Piers Gaveston is in England hiding. Now the Prince would never have anything to do with Lord Henry but he approached me. Gaveston has been hiding in manor houses and villages along the south coast. Would I bring him here to Ashdown? I told the Prince my brother would be furious. He became petulant; he reminded me that one day he would be king, that I was of his retinue and that he would remember younger brothers who had not helped him, so I agreed. Gaveston travelled to Ashdown disguised as a pilgrim. He hired a chamber at the Devil-in-the-Woods tavern and visited St Hawisia’s priory. The Prince met him in the tavern, and in the forest as well as the priory.’
    ‘And where is Gaveston now?’
    Sir William splashed more wine into his cup. ‘He left as soon as he knew a royal clerk was visiting here.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Like a morning mist.’
    ‘And Lady Madeleine? She knew all this?’
    ‘Oh, Madeleine knew. The Prince of Wales visited her, all sweetness and light, talking about that damnable shrine of hers.’
    ‘Damnable?’
    ‘It’s the only thing she cares for. The Prince sang the same song as he did to me. How, when he was king, he would frequent St Hawisia’s as often as he did Becket’s tomb at Canterbury . Madeleine rose, like the sour fish she is, to the golden bait. Gaveston Was allowed into the priory and the Prince met him there.’
    ‘If the King knew of this?’ Corbett straightened in his chair. ‘You’d be summoned to Westminster and, how can I put it, while waiting for an audience, be lodged in chambers in the Tower.’
    Sir William sucked in his lips. ‘I have committed no crime. Gaveston’s a popinjay. He’s no threat to the King or kingdom. You should remember, Sir Hugh,’ he said hoarsely. ‘One day, God forbid, the King will die and the crown will rest on another brow.’
    ‘You speak the truth. But don’t you forget, Sir William, that it’s that crown I serve, not its wearer!’
    ‘Ever the lawyer, eh, master clerk?’
    ‘No sir, ever the truth. And the truth is that you have done no real harm but de Craon, now he’s a different dish. Why did the French king demand that Lord Henry lead the English envoys to Paris ?’
    ‘Henry travelled a great deal,’ Sir William said. ‘He was a scholar, a collector of artefacts. He was well known at foreign courts.’
    ‘So am 1,’ Corbett retorted. ‘The French were quite particular. They asked for Lord Henry Fitzalan. Now, sir, why?’
    Sir William looked up at the rafters. ‘The truth,
    Sir Hugh, is that I don’t really know.’ He held up a hand. ‘I will take an oath on it. My brother was certainly on pleasant terms with the French king.’
    ‘Did they correspond?’
    ‘Just gifts and brief letters.’
    ‘May I see these?’
    ‘If you wish.’
    ‘But come, Sir William, you can offer more than this.’ Corbett spread his hands. ‘You want my protection at court, then buy it.’
    Sir William clumsily got to his feet. He went to pull back one of the shutters and stared through the latticed window.
    ‘The key to all that, Sir Hugh, is Pancius Cantrone. But God knows where he is! It’s dark and I am feared for his safety.’
    Corbett sat back. Aye, he thought, and where is Master Ranulf?

    Ranulf-atte-Newgate, who’d drunk a little more than he’d wished, slipped out of the hallway, as planned, to meet Master Baldock. He found this new friend and ally sitting on the steps outside the main hall.
    ‘You are ready, Master Ranulf? You will mention my name to Sir Hugh?’
    Ranulf clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I’ll take you in to the King himself, Baldock. But the house of Mistress Alicia?’
    Baldock beckoned him on. The ostler led him along a warren of passageways, through the kitchens, still thick with the odours of the cooking and baking which had preceded Sir William’s feast. The scullions, kitchen boys and slatterns were now feasting on the remains, picking at