Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

long and dark, houses on either side. Despite the dark tunnel which runs between them, the inhabitants of those houses know when someone goes along that street, particularly if it’s time and again.’
    ‘And?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘The same is true of the forest. There may be trees as far as the eye can see but remember, Ranulf, what it was like? The dark, tangled undergrowth; those light green patches which may be marshes or swamp. Now, when you walk through a forest you are forced, whether you like it or not, to stumble through the undergrowth, crashing about like a wounded boar and blundering into God knows what danger, as well as being seen and heard by anyone who may be passing.’
    ‘Or,’ Ranulf intervened quickly, ‘you will seek certain paths and trackways where, again, you are likely to be seen or heard.’
    ‘Now there speaks a good and studious observer. So, let’s return to the questioning and, if you can, my noble Galahad, my knight of the moonlight, curb your passion and use your mind.’
    Corbett left the side chapel and walked back into the sanctuary. Ranulf sighed, fished a coin from his purse which he put in the box, and lit a candle.
    ‘And that’s for Master Long Face,’ he muttered. ‘And his damnable logic!’
    He followed Corbett into the sanctuary, where the clerk had already taken his stool.
    ‘Master Verlian?’
    ‘I did not like the way you questioned my daughter, Sir Hugh, or what you implied.’
    ‘If your daughter is innocent she has nothing to fear. And neither have you. True, my questions may bite.’ He half-smiled at Alicia who was now sitting on the floor, her back resting against a pillar. ‘But your answers are logical and you do not have the eyes of a murderer.’
    Now Ranulf smiled to hide his anxiety. If they had been alone, he would have asked his master what the eyes of an assassin looked like, bearing in mind some of the sweet-faced villains they had crossed swords with over the years. When he caught the pleading look in the young woman’s eyes he glanced away. Did she have anything to hide?
    Corbett, however, was now rubbing the side of his face, a sure sign that his sharp brain was hunting an idea.
    ‘You have questions for me, clerk?’ Verlian asked.
    ‘Yes, it’s not about Lord Henry’s murder. It’s about the forest. You know it well?’
    ‘As well as my child’s face.’
    ‘You are a skilled huntsman?’
    Verlian shrugged. ‘Lord Henry said as much.’
    ‘You can track a deer?’
    ‘I can track anything which walks the face of God’s earth,’ Verlian replied proudly. ‘Be it man or beast.’
    ‘And your companions, the huntsmen and verderers, are people who live in and use the forest?’
    ‘Some are very good. Others have got a great deal to learn.’
    ‘So, what about the outlaws?’ Corbett asked abruptly.
    Verlian looked guardedly at him.
    ‘The wolfs-heads, the outlaws?’ Corbett insisted.
    ‘Many of them don’t survive. They flee from the towns and villages. They do not last long in the forest. I have discovered many a corpse frozen in a snowdrift or the edge of some swamp. I’ve even found those who’ve hanged themselves, their wits disturbed. If they have any sense they do not stay long but travel on to another town.’
    ‘And the rest? Those who do stay? The peasants who kill the deer? Or who’ve fled a cruel lord?’
    ‘We leave them alone and they leave us. And we turn a blind eye to the little things they take.’
    ‘So, you do see them?’
    Verlian nodded. ‘If they don’t interfere with us, as I have said, we don’t interfere with them.’
    ‘I can say the same,’ Brother Cosmas interrupted.
    ‘Ah yes, I was going to ask you that.’ Corbett smiled at the Franciscan. ‘You live here, Brother. You describe Ashdown as your parish. You must know all the forest people, as well as those poor unfortunates who have to flee?’
    ‘That’s true,’ the Franciscan replied proudly. ‘I am a friar, not one of the King’s officers. If a man snares a hare to put in his family pot, why should I object?’
    ‘And Mistress Alicia here? You who ride through the forest armed with bow and arrow?’
    ‘My father has answered for me. What are you implying, clerk?’
    ‘My name is Sir Hugh Corbett.’
    Alicia shrugged her shoulders prettily.
    ‘I’d call you all lords of the forest,’ Corbett said humorously. ‘You probably know its pathways and trackways better than Lord Henry ever did. Nevertheless, that puzzles me