Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

Face teaching a lesson of humility to arrogant nobles and proud prioresses.
    ‘But that’s only a flea above our dish,’ Corbett continued. ‘Sir William told me that the corpse of the young woman found in the forest was probably a French whore, an expensive one.’
    ‘What on earth...?’
    ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what she was doing in Ashdown. Sir William also told me that both de Craon and Philip of France were not so much friendly towards Lord Henry as frightened of him. The key to this fear is that sallow-faced physician, Pancius Cantrone, but he has disappeared. Lord Henry and his precious physician! It’s my belief, as well as Sir William’s, that his brother discovered a secret scandal, something which could grievously harm Philip of France. Now, Ford Henry and Philip exchanged letters; England and France are at peace, so there’s no crime in that, but Philip also sent Lord Henry expensive gifts. Sir William showed me some of these: gold crowns, precious goblets, little gewgaws, but, assayed and weighed by some clerk of the Exchequer, it would amount to a small fortune. Now.’ Corbett bit his lower lip. ‘I believe Philip asked for Ford Henry to be sent to France , not only to conduct the negotiations regarding his daughter’s marriage but to buy back, once and for all, this secret.’
    ‘In exchange for what?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘A small fortune.’
    ‘But wouldn’t that be dangerous? I mean, if Lord Henry visited Paris an accident could happen.’
    ‘I asked the same of Sir William. He said that Lord Henry, when he travelled abroad, always left Pancius Cantrone in England .’
    ‘Ah, and he would control the secret?’
    ‘Yes, but then Sir William confided in me how Lord Henry, in his cups, had intimated that when they reached Rye, he would entrust certain secrets to his brother while Cantrone would be bundled aboard ship and be taken to France.’
    Ranulf rubbed his brow. He tried to remove the lovely face of Alicia from his mind as he concentrated on the conundrum his master now posed.
    ‘It would seem, Ranulf,’ Corbett continued, ‘that Philip of France asked for Lord Henry Fitzalan who wished to finish his private business with Philip once and for all. He would surrender the secret and betray the man who had handed it to him, probably for lands, castles or moveable treasures.’
    ‘And if anything happened to Lord Henry while he was abroad?’ Ranulf now warmed to the task in hand.
    ‘Sir William would pass on Lord Henry’s secret instructions to the King.’
    ‘I suspect so.’
    ‘But why didn’t Fitzalan tell these secrets to Edward of England?’
    Corbett laughed. ‘Our King would demand them to be freely given as a vassal should to his liege lord.’
    Corbett looked up at the ceiling beams. He sniffed and caught the different odours from the kitchen below. The tavern was falling silent, save for the odd creak of a stair. Somewhere from the kennel a dog growled softly and, on the night air outside, some drunk bellowed a hymn. A busy yet lonely place, Corbett reflected, ideal for Prince Edward meeting his blood-brother Gaveston.
    ‘So, why has Cantrone disappeared?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘Sir William thinks he may have fled. You see, Sir William was used to being his brother’s principal retainer, travelling here and there which, of course, provided a suitable pretext for escorting Gaveston up and down from the south coast. Now, Sir William’s mind is all a jumble with his brother’s funeral as well as the finger of suspicion being pointed at him. He unwittingly let slip to Cantrone what his brother intended to do at Rye . Apparently Cantrone paled, became very agitated and confused, then withdrew to his chamber. The next day he left for St Hawisia’s priory. Sir William sent a messenger there. The Italian physician apparently treated Sister Fidelis’ swollen knuckles, collected his horse and left but neither hide nor hair has been found of him. He could have fled. He could have been waylaid by outlaws, the Owlman or the assassin.’
    ‘Or one of de Craon’s lovely boys?’ Ranulf interjected.
    ‘De Craon may be involved,’ Corbett agreed.
    ‘He must also be pleased.’
    ‘Yes and no. Lord Henry is dead. Cantrone may have joined him. However, Lord Henry and Cantrone were the sort of men who would leave this secret somewhere in writing, a surety, a bond for their own safety.’
    Corbett pulled across the bulging saddlebags he had taken from the manor, undid