Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

Roulles?’
    Corbett nodded.
    ‘They found his mangled corpse on a muddy bank of the Seine . A few days earlier, they’d discovered the half-naked body of Mistress Malvoisin, a few yards further up.’
    ‘The widow of the royal physician?’
    ‘The same. Poor Simon was searching for what you discovered at Ashdown, and he may have even found it. What a waste! A good spy, a cunning clerk but not as good as you, eh Hugh?’
    ‘You won’t use it, sire?’
    Corbett glanced sideways at Ranulf who sat tense, eyes watchful. Ever since they’d left Ashdown and journeyed up to Eltham, Ranulf had been obsessed with bringing Lady Madeleine to justice.
    ‘What do you mean, I won’t use it!’
    ‘Sire, the treaty!’
    The King’s smile widened. ‘Ah, you mean my beloved son’s marriage to the Princess Isabella?’
    ‘Sire, you know that marriage treaty has the support of the papacy, not to mention your Council and the Commons who recently met in parliament. If you break it, there’ll be war within a month and French ships will be helping the rebels in Scotland .’
    Corbett studied his king. Edward was almost beside himself with glee yet Corbett, who had sat with the rest of the King’s Council and negotiated this treaty which was to bring a lasting peace, knew how deeply Edward nurtured his hatred against Philip.
    ‘Seigneur Amaury de Craon,’ Corbett said, ‘is now outside, in your antechamber. He is insistent on returning to France . You must name the lord who is to lead the English delegation.’
    ‘Does he know that I know?’ the King teased.
    ‘He may suspect, sire, but what proof do we have? An entry in a Book of Hours, the corpse of a dead Italian physician?’
    Edward put the cup down. He rubbed his hands together like a little boy who has won a game.
    ‘In a short while, Corbett, de Craon will know that I know what Philip knows but, what he doesn’t know,’ the King laughed at the turn of phrase, ‘is what I really know and where I have hidden the proof.’
    ‘What proof, sire?’ Ranulf exclaimed.
    The King chuckled.
    ‘Precisely, Ranulf! They’ll always wonder just what proof I really have.’ The King raised his hands as a sign that the meeting was over. ‘I don’t think you should stay, Sir Hugh, when I see de Craon.’
    Corbett and Ranulf got to their feet and bowed. Edward rubbed his fingers along the top of the table.
    ‘Do you know, Corbett,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes I wonder if the game is more important than winning? I met Philip’s wife Johanna. I often wondered how long Philip would tolerate her. I wonder what he really is after? Marriage to a Flemish princess? I’ll stop that. And, as for the Templars? Soon it will be Christmas. Perhaps it’s time I invited the Grand Master, Jacques de Molay, back to England .’ Edward clapped his hands. ‘Oh, Corbett, Ranulf, I think we’ll celebrate the feast of All Saints at Leighton!’
    Corbett smiled to hide his deep anguish at having to act as host to Edward and his cronies. They would sweep into his manor and all harmony would be shattered.
    ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
    ‘When Lady Maeve’s child is born,’ Corbett replied quickly, because he knew the King loved such requests, ‘if you could stand godfather at the font?’
    ‘Done.’ The King raised his hand. ‘And, before you leave, Corbett, I have something for Lady Maeve. A necklace.’ His eyes softened. ‘Once worn by my Eleanor.’ He opened the large wallet which hung from his war belt and tossed a purse of gold coins down the table. ‘And that’s for you, my Clerk of the Green Wax!’
    Ranulf let it he.
    ‘Come! Come!’ Edward drew his brows together. ‘Do you refuse a prince’s gift? What else do you want, Clerk of the Green Wax? Promotion? A bishopric?’
    ‘Lady Madeleine dead!’ Ranulf spat the words out, ignoring Corbett’s hiss of disapproval.
    ‘Pick the gold up!’ Edward ordered. ‘Pick it up, boy!’
    Ranulf obeyed.
    ‘I can’t give you Lady Madeleine’s head on a platter.’ Edward drew his dagger, clasping his fingers round the hilt. ‘But, I, Edward, King of England, Ireland and Scotland , give my solemn word: before Easter comes and goes, Lady Madeleine Fitzalan will join her brother before the court of Heaven. That matter’s finished!’
    Corbett tugged at Ranulf’s arm. They bowed and walked out of the chamber. De Craon, lounging in a window seat, got up.
    ‘Ah, Sir Hugh, your king is pleased?’
    ‘My