Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

the piece of parchment and put it in his wallet.
    ‘Madam, I come here as the King’s officer. You know full well that Françoise has been murdered in the same forest where Lord Henry was killed. Now, there’s more to Lord Henry than being a client of your house. He and Françoise shared a common bond, Cecilia. Lord Henry took her out, ostensibly as his personal mistress, but then he bundled her abroad. Françoise makes careful searches. She finds Cecilia but she apparently refuses to come back until what Françoise calls "her glory" is restored.’ He gripped Roheisia’s wrist. ‘Now, madam, an explanation!’
    Roheisia swept across to a chair and sat down on it. She sat like a queen, hands dangling down the side. ‘I hate men. I hate them because they are hypocrites, because they believe they can buy what is precious. They strut in here full of wine, mouths bleary, cocks hard, as if this is nothing more than a barnyard. I liked, even loved Françoise but, as the years passed, this grew cold. It was Françoise who brought Cecilia into our house. A Kentish girl. I never knew whether she loved Cecilia as her daughter or as a man would a maid. Françoise distrusted Lord Henry but allowed him to take Cecilia out. When Françoise discovered that she had gone missing, she became demented. The management of this house, the pleasuring of our clients were forgotten. Lord Henry came here and she confronted him. I heard nothing of their bitter words, only Lord Henry laughing, mocking her as he often did. Françoise became determined. She became a constant visitor to the harbour. She would go out visiting this place or that. Sometimes she was absent for days. She’d curse Lord Henry and said both he and his family would pay for what they had done. Ça ira, that’s all I know.’
    ‘And Cecilia’s glory?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘She must be referring to the girl’s face. What Lord Henry did, I am unsure: in his cups he could be vicious. There are men, master clerk, who like to beat women, see them bleed before they can take their pleasure with them.’
    ‘And you think this happened?’ Corbett asked. ‘That Lord Henry beat Cecilia so badly, he sent her to Dieppe to hide any scandal?’
    ‘It’s possible.’
    ‘So, Cecilia wouldn’t return until these wounds were healed?’
    ‘Again that’s possible. It’s also possible that Françoise travelled to Ashdown to confront Lord Henry but, to do that, she was very foolish. After all, who cares if an arrow slits a whore’s throat?’
    ‘Are there any other letters?’ Ranulf asked.
    Roheisia threw her head back and laughed. ‘Françoise was like myself , young sir. Our correspondence? Let me put it this way, good whoring and letters do not go together. A love note received on Monday can be dangerous by Friday. Françoise was no different. Before she left she either burned her letters or took them with her. I only found those by mistake. She’d left them in a pocket of a robe hung on a peg in her chamber. Master clerk?’
    Corbett was sitting, eyes closed. ‘I wonder,’ he murmured, ‘Ranulf, I really do, what Lord Henry did to that girl?’

    In the priest’s house, a narrow, two-storied dwelling built just behind the church of St Oswald ’s-in-the-Trees, Alicia Verlian filled a goblet for her father and placed it on the table in Brother Cosmas’ clean-swept kitchen. Outside darkness was falling, the silence broken by the sounds of the forest as it awaited the night. The verderer sipped from the cup and glanced across at his daughter.
    ‘It will be good to get back,’ he said.
    ‘We should leave now,’ Alicia replied. ‘You have nothing to fear and Sir Hugh will protect us against Sir William.’
    Verlian shook his head. ‘It’s best to wait.’
    Alicia looked at her father pityingly. He had aged in the last few days, nervous, unsure of himself. He was even frightened by the shadows in the church. Brother Cosmas had kindly agreed that he could move into his house. Indeed, since Corbett’s questioning in the church, the Franciscan had grown very preoccupied. He had left early in the afternoon, saying he wished to have words with Odo.
    ‘But make yourselves comfortable,’ he had offered. ‘I have some wine, dried meats and freshly baked bread. Build the fire up. Alicia, if you wish, you can stay, sleep in the church or make up beds for both of you on the kitchen floor.’
    With that he had taken his cloak and cudgel and left them. Alicia had repaid