Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

You roll the body down the bank, take her purse and saddle panniers, strip the corpse then bury it. You were calm enough to go through her personal possessions. I suspect Françoise brought a strand of Cecilia’s hair.’ Corbett opened his wallet and took out the two cloth clasps. ‘That lock you took away but dropped these in your hurry. Disguised, you creep back along the trackway, mount your horse, throw Sourtillon’s possessions into a marsh and return to St Hawisia’s.’
    ‘An interesting tale, clerk.’
    ‘God knows what happened next,’ Corbett went on evenly. ‘Did your brother, who visited the brothel in Rye , discover Françoise was missing? Did he threaten you? Or did he continue his secret taunts about your sacred relic? Enough was enough: Lord Henry was the cause of all your trouble. You heard about the hunt. You went to that dell, where you had played as a child, the afternoon before the hunt took place. You put a bow and quiver in the hollow of an oak tree. The next morning, cloaked and cowled, you left the priory. This time you’d silence your brother’s taunts about the relic and possible jibes about Gaveston for good. You could settle, once and for all, your longstanding grievances with this hated man.’
    Lady Madeleine put her head down.
    ‘A fine, sunny morning,’ Corbett remarked. ‘Lord Henry would prove a good target, this time not to the neck but an arrow straight in his heart. Even as he fell to the ground, you’d be hurrying back to your horse, bow and quiver hidden away, and return to St Hawisia’s.’
    ‘But why should I kill my brother?’ Lady Madeleine lifted her head. ‘If, as you say, the Italian physician Cantrone already knew?’
    ‘He was a stranger. A foreigner. What proof could he offer? Who would believe him or the whore Cecilia now Françoise and Lord Henry were dead?’ Corbett paused. ‘In a few months,’ he continued, ‘what could Cantrone say? But, you were committed to the hunt and Cantrone was an easy victim. So why let him go? He’d dared to threaten you, not realising how vulnerable he made himself. However, Lady Madeleine, when you kill, you not only trample lives but become immersed in other plots, other schemes. Cantrone didn’t give a whit about the relic. He and Lord Henry were involved in other stratagems, very dangerous to himself. Cantrone simply wanted to flee. His patron was dead and the French wanted to get their hands on him. He needed gold and silver, didn’t he? You didn’t send for him. He came to the priory demanding to see you. He mentioned the relic and insisted that you buy his silence. Some gold and silver for his journey, he would be gone and that would be the end of it. Cantrone really meant that but you didn’t trust him.’
    ‘But I was here when he left!’
    ‘No, Lady Madeleine, you are cunning. You probably paid him then remembered little Sister Fidelis. She would be your excuse, the reason for his visit. You gave out some story that you’d sent for him. Cantrone would accept that. He’d be a little puzzled but,’ Corbett shrugged, ‘what was that to him? Or that you offered food? Ashdown Manor was in uproar following Lord Henry’s death. Servants and retainers were departing. Cantrone would be hungry. You order him to be taken to the refectory, given something to eat. In the meantime you once again left the priory as you did with me. Ashdown, particularly for a stranger, is a death trap. There’s only one road out to the manor. I, Cantrone, Françoise Sourtillon, must take that trackway or become lost in the trees.
    ‘By the time Cantrone had reached it you were waiting. Again an arrow to the throat. His wallet and purse are taken. A slender, light man, you’d put Cantrone’s corpse across the saddle of his horse, take it deep into the woods and hide it in a marsh.’
    Corbett stood up and glanced down the church where he noted that Ranulf was still sitting at the foot of the pillar.
    ‘Finally, madam, we come to a death, a murder that need not have occurred! The death of Robert Verlian!’



Chapter 16

    ‘His death,’ Corbett continued, ‘was the quickest and easiest to plan, or rather that of the person you really wanted to kill. You went to the priest’s house, knocked on the door and hurried into the shadows of the trees only a few yards away. You believed Brother Cosmas was there. You’d noticed the light in the window. The friar would answer the knock; you would loose an arrow and that