Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

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Chapter 11

    Corbett settled himself on the bench and looked quickly at the memorandum Ranulf had been writing. Sometimes he found it unnerving, how his companion’s style of writing so closely imitated his own. He idly wondered what dangers this might pose for the future.
    Brother Cosmas, who had stayed to bless the corpse, came striding up the church. Corbett noted wryly how agitated the Franciscan had become. He went into the sanctuary and relayed what had happened to Verlian, who still sat with his daughter Alicia.
    ‘My father wasn’t there when he died,’ Alicia declared in a loud voice.
    Corbett turned on the bench. ‘Hush now, mistress!’ he said soothingly. ‘There is no evidence against your father.’
    The church door opened and closed. Ranulf walked up the aisle, the hermit Odo striding purposefully beside him. Odo sat on a bench before the table. A youngish man, his hair, black as a crow’s feather, tumbled down to his shoulders. The ragged beard and moustache were slightly streaked with grey. He had large eyes, a hooked nose; his face was sallow and lined. Corbett studied the eyes: worried, anxious? He looked at the man’s hands wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. The bare feet in the rather tattered sandals were dirty and chapped. His robe had once been bottle-green but now it was cut and sweat-stained. A piece of hempen cord bound his waist.
    ‘You know why you are here?’ Corbett began.
    He was aware of Brother Cosmas coming back and sitting on the stool. Ranulf had eased himself down, taken a new quill and was busy writing the hermit’s name.
    ‘Master Ranulf has told me who you are,’ the hermit replied. His voice was soft and cultured, in stark contrast to his rough appearance. ‘He has also told me why you are here. But he gave no reason why you should question me.’
    ‘We are not questioning you. Rather asking what you know, if anything, about the circumstances leading to Fitzalan’s murder.’
    ‘I am the hermit. I live out at Dragon’s Mouth cave. I spend my life in prayer and penance. For your sins and mine.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Corbett said. He spread his hands on the table. ‘I know my sins, Master Odo. What are yours?’
    The hermit stared back in surprise.
    ‘You are not a man of the church,’ Corbett continued. ‘You are not protected by its laws. I can ask for your assistance and you must give it. You, by your own confession, live in the forest of Ashdown . You must see , hear things that may be of interest.’
    ‘I was at prayer when Lord Henry was killed. I rarely leave my cave.’ He held up his bandaged hands. ‘I was born with a rottenness of the skin. I cannot use my hands for work so I pray for God’s faithful.’
    ‘And how do you eat?’ Corbett asked curiously.
    ‘The goodness and generosity of the forest people is well known.’
    ‘They bring you food and drink?’
    ‘I would like to say that, like the prophet Elijah, I am fed by the ravens. But men like Verlian and Brother Cosmas,’ he looked quickly at the Franciscan, ‘are kind and generous.’
    ‘Do you know anyone called the Owlman?’ Corbett asked.
    ‘I do not. I have neither seen nor heard anything which could be of help, master clerk. I beg you to let me go. I will remember you in my prayers.’
    ‘Not so. Not so.’ Corbett beat on the table-top. ‘Shall I tell you what you are, sir? You are a liar. You are no more a hermit than I am.’
    ‘How can you say that?’ Brother Cosmas broke in. ‘Odo has been...’
    ‘Yes, when did you arrive in Ashdown?’ Corbett asked.
    ‘Early spring of this year.’ The hermit was now agitated.
    ‘It may cross your mind to get up and flee. I would advise against that. If you have done nothing wrong you have nothing to fear.’
    ‘What are you saying?’
    ‘Here you are,’ Corbett pointed out. ‘A self-confessed hermit. A stranger in these parts. Why come to Ashdown? It’s not a place of sanctity or holiness. St Hawisia’s Priory is not the sort which attracts men dedicated to the service of God.’
    ‘I have nothing to do with that place.’
    ‘No, no, you haven’t. But I wager you have a great deal to do with Brother Cosmas.’
    ‘This is nonsense!’ The Franciscan sprang to his feet. ‘Sir Hugh, this is God’s house and my church!’ He went and patted the hermit gently on the shoulder.
    ‘Would you mind taking the bandages off Odo’s hands?’ asked Corbett.
    Brother Cosmas looked as if he was about to refuse so