Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

bone. The wound to the flesh soon heals, but the bone beneath...’ She stepped back and took the silver coins from Corbett’s outstretched hand. ‘They will take months to heal properly. Even then, clerk, till the day you die, there’ll be twinges, small stabs of pain; these, like the other blows of life, you will have to accept.’
    Corbett smiled his thanks, buttoned up his shirt and put his tunic back on.
    ‘Master,’ Ranulf said as Jocasta led Blanche back down towards the door of the church. ‘There are as good physicians in Sussex as there are in London .’
    Corbett fastened the top button of his shirt.
    ‘It wasn’t my wound,’ he replied. ‘It was the final Proof.’
    ‘Of what?’ Brother Cosmas asked.
    ‘That she speaks the truth. The best physicians in London have examined my wounds. Isn’t it strange, brother, she said no differently to them? Now, she could have flattered, or offered some ointment or potion, but she told the truth. I suspect the same applies to everything she has told us.’ He picked up the quill Ranulf had discarded. ‘What she said will have to be sifted,’ he added. ‘Then I will reflect on her words.’
    ‘She accused Sir William!’ Brother Cosmas added eagerly. ‘Or in so many words.’
    ‘I’m not sure. But I was interested in her description of the Owlman. Well, let’s see this hermit!’
    Ranulf got up from his bench and was halfway down the nave when the door was flung open and Sir William strode in.
    ‘Sir Hugh Corbett!’ he called out. ‘Come, man! And you, Brother!’
    Corbett and Brother Cosmas hurried down the nave. Outside, the small churchyard was full of armed men. Jocasta and Blanche had stopped at the lych-gate and were looking back. Corbett glanced at the waiting soldiers, a ragged, dirty-faced figure, who must be the hermit, between them, but his attention was caught by the corpse which had been laid out on the ground, a threadbare cloak thrown over it. It had been unslung from a sumpter pony whose saddle was covered in slime and mud. Sir William pushed his way through his men, crouched by the body and pulled back the cloak.
    ‘Pancius Cantrone,’ he explained. ‘Former physician to my brother.’
    The cadaver was covered from head to toe in a muddy slime which only worsened the terrible rictus of death, the half-open mouth stained with mud and blood. The eyes stared, the sallow skin was damp and criss-crossed with streaks of dirt; the hair was soaking wet and in the neck gaped a ragged hole full of congealing blood.
    ‘An arrow wound,’ Ranulf said. He took his dagger out and scraped away the mud.
    ‘Where was he found?’ Corbett asked.
    ‘On the edge of a marsh, deep in the forest.’
    ‘And the arrow?’
    ‘Plucked out.’
    ‘By the killer?’
    ‘It must have been,’ Sir William replied. ‘My huntsman only found it because the body had resurfaced, one boot sticking out of the water.’
    Corbett turned the corpse over. Cantrone was still wearing his cloak, his dagger was still in its sheath, but the large wallet and small purse which hung from the belt were unbuckled and empty.
    ‘And his horse?’
    Sir William, crouching on the other side of the corpse, pulled a face.
    ‘He was riding when he left St Hawisia’s but, of that, there’s no trace.’
    ‘I suspect the horse was unsaddled,’ Corbett said. ‘The harness was thrown into a marsh and the horse left to graze. It wouldn’t take long for such a valuable animal to be found and hidden away.’
    ‘It’s the same as the corpse we saw at St Hawisia’s,’ Ranulf remarked. ‘An arrow wound to the throat. His purse and wallet have been rifled.’
    ‘Amaury de Craon will be pleased,’ Corbett observed, wiping his hands and getting to his feet. ‘Sir William, the good physician, he was your house guest. You will see to honourable burial?’
    Sir William nodded.
    ‘But who can this killer be, Sir Hugh?’
    ‘I don’t know. This mystery, Sir William, is becoming untangled. However, I have yet to pull a loose thread free. I would be grateful, sir, if you could keep your men out of the church.’ He glanced across to where Jocasta and Blanche were now walking away. ‘Did you know that the poor girl is your brother’s child?’ He glimpsed the astonishment in Sir William’s eyes. ‘We are all sinners, Sir William. As a kindness, I beg you, take good care of them.’
    And Corbett walked back into the church, gesturing at Ranulf to bring the hermit in with