Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

why the clothes had to be removed. If you go back to the tavern and ask, as we have, "Can you remember a young woman?" the answer, of course, will be "No!" ‘
    ‘In life as in love,’ Corbett observed, ‘the truth’s always the same: very obvious to those who search for it! Brother Cosmas and Odo, I beg you a favour. Would you mind digging round this shallow grave?’
    Brother Cosmas stared truculently back.
    ‘I asked you as a favour,’ Corbett added evenly. ‘I will do my share as well.’
    At this Brother Cosmas picked up the spade and mattock. He gave the latter to Odo and they began to dig while Corbett led Ranulf away.
    ‘How well do you know these woods, Ranulf?’
    ‘Not at all.’
    ‘Very well. Go back to the Devil-in-the-Woods. Search out young Baldock: he is now groom and Master of Horse to Sir Hugh Corbett, King’s Commissioner. Sir William won’t object. Tell him I’ll draw the indentures up tonight before we go to Rye .’
    ‘ Rye !’ Ranulf exclaimed.
    ‘Yes, Rye . Baldock has two tasks. First, he’s to take you to Savernake Dell and, when you’re finished, to bring you back to the tavern. Afterwards he’s to go and ask Sir William for a letter of release from his service.’
    ‘What am I looking for in Savernake Dell?’
    ‘Well, any sign of Sir William being ill.’
    ‘Sir Hugh!’
    ‘More importantly, see how long it takes to run from where Lord Henry was killed to the other side of the dell and back. Baldock will help you, he knows where everybody stood.’
    Ranulf left. Corbett joined the others. They’d dug into the grave but only unearthed a silver button, no bigger than a groat.
    ‘Would the assassin have hidden the clothes here?’ Brother Cosmas asked. ‘If he took such pains to strip the corpse?’
    ‘True.’
    Corbett squatted at the side of the pit, eyes half-closed, listening to the sounds of the forest. Brother Cosmas had led the digging and the clerk was suspicious. The Franciscan was an intelligent man. He had made no attempt to search elsewhere: like some menial servant, he had literally followed Corbett’s orders, digging deeper, not accepting the logic that the assassin would scarcely have dug a deep grave only to bury the clothing, cover that up and place the corpse on top. Odo was also sullen, distracted. Corbett’s hand travelled to the hilt of his dagger. He had acted arrogantly! Here he was with two strangers, both of whom were under suspicion, yet he was alone in the forest with them where any accident might occur. He got to his feet, quietly promising that he would not turn his back on this precious pair.
    ‘I have shown you,’ Odo protested. ‘And I have dug. Apart from a button, we have found nothing.’
    Corbett looked along the bank. Were these two men guilty of the murder? Had Odo brought him here because he had no choice? Corbett drew his dagger.
    ‘The corpse was dragged down here,’ he began. ‘The assassin moved quickly. The corpse is stripped and swiftly buried.’ Corbett looked to his left and pointed to the thick gorse and undergrowth which sprouted along the side of the bank. ‘The assassin would wish to be away from here as swiftly as possible. He hurriedly put the clothing in a bag.’ Corbett walked to the far side of the freshly dug pit. ‘Then up, across the trackway, and into the forest.’ He crouched down and sifted with his dagger among the brambles and leaves. ‘Let us hope he dropped something.’
    The two men didn’t join him. Corbett continued his search, using his dagger to scrape away the grass and weeds which clung so tenaciously to the soil. He carefully divided the ground into small squares, moving along the bottom of the bank and then up. Now and again he glanced at Brother Cosmas and Odo. They had drawn aside, whispering to each other. Corbett was about to ask them to join him but he decided it would be safer if they kept their distance. He was also unsure what they would do if they found anything untoward.
    He was halfway up the bank when he found two small loops of cloth, luxurious in texture, now stained with grass and mud. Each had golden twine running round the centre and was more than an inch in circumference, the stitching small and precise. Corbett put these in his wallet, continued his search but found nothing else.
    When Corbett clambered back on to the trackway, he pulled out the two pieces of cloth and studied them intently; two minute, costly pieces of needlework.
    ‘You’ve found