Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

you. My belly was weak, my bowels like water.’
    ‘No, they weren’t,’ Corbett said, pushing his horse alongside. ‘You drank very little wine the night before, even though it was tainted.’
    ‘How do you...!’
    ‘Never mind! Why did you leave the hunt and go into the trees? Was it to be away from the marksman? The assassin hiding on the other side of the forest dell?’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
    ‘Don’t threaten me, my lord! Tell me this. You Fitzalans are hunters, aren’t you? You were all born to the chase?’
    Fitzalan’s anger was replaced by puzzlement.
    ‘What has that got to do with it?’
    ‘Never mind. Now, if Lord Henry, who drank the tainted wine, could recover, why not his brother?’
    ‘I’ll tell you, Corbett. On the morning of the hunt there was nothing wrong with my belly or my bowels. But, as I waited in Savernake Dell, my brother threatened me over my help for Gaveston. You didn’t really know the Lord Henry, did you? He was a man who drank deep of power, particularly over other people. If he had the knife in you, he’d turn it until you screamed.’
    ‘Like he did with the King of France?’
    Sir William looked shocked. ‘What? What?’ he stammered.
    ‘Just tell that to Amaury de Craon,’ Corbett murmured. ‘But you were talking about your brother?’
    ‘Once I realised he knew about Gaveston,’ Sir William’s shoulders sagged, ‘I knew I would never hear the end of it. Not as long as he lived. I went away, frightened and humiliated, to be sick. I puked like some little boy. I couldn’t stop trembling. Can you imagine it, Corbett, living at the beck and call of someone like Henry?’
    ‘Is that why Lady Madeleine became a nun?’
    ‘I confess this, Corbett and, if you ever repeat it, I’ll drive my gauntlet into your face. Madeleine hates men and can you blame her? Years ago, every time Henry had the opportunity, he had his hands up her skirts as if she were some tavern wench.’
    Corbett drew back his horse, shocked at what Sir William had told him.
    ‘So, I bid you adieu, clerk.’
    Sir William was about to ride on but Corbett caught the reins. Sir William’s hand fell to the pommel of his sword.
    ‘Hush, my lord,’ Corbett said. ‘Just remember to tell Seigneur de Craon exactly what I said to you about Henry and his master!’
    ‘He’ll be gone soon, thank God! He’s away to Eltham for an audience with the King.’
    ‘And Gaveston?’
    ‘Why, clerk, I am now a manor lord. The King’s most faithful subject. Gaveston is well beyond the seas.’
    Sir William rode on into the small yard in front of the church, his horsemen clustered about him. Deep in thought about what Sir William had said , Corbett dug his spurs in.
    Once he had reached the tavern, Corbett went up to his own chamber where he cleared the small table, took out a piece of parchment, quills and pumice stone and wrote down everything he had learned. A scullion brought up a trauncher of food and some ale. Corbett absentmindedly thanked him and went back to his writing.
    He listed the names of the victims who had been killed in the forest, all slain by an arrow, then looked up and tapped his quill against his cheek. Somewhere on the edge of the forest a wood pigeon cooed rhythmically time and again. Corbett felt a twinge of pain in his neck and nursed the scar left by the assassin in Oxford . And the secret? Fitzalan’s blackmailing of the French king. Where was the proof? Sir William didn’t know anything about it. Was de Craon involved? He wrote down ‘Pancius Cantrone the Italian physician’, then laughed softly.
    Of course there were no hidden manuscripts! Cantrone was the proof! He had been physician to the royal court in France : that’s how the pact was to be sealed! Philip would be only too pleased and pay heavily to have his hands on such a man. Once Cantrone was gone, Lord Henry Fitzalan could say nothing. True, Corbett reflected, Lord Henry might have left some cryptic message with his brother but, ‘Oh, the beauty of it all!’ he murmured. Of course, Philip would have Cantrone but Lord Henry would have gold bullion despatched by Philip’s bankers. The French king would effectively silence Fitzalan: how could an English lord explain to his King how he became so rich at the hands of the French? He might even be accused of treason! It was like a game of chess. Philip and Lord Henry would have checkmated each other.
    Corbett heard a sound on the stairs and Ranulf slipped