Sir Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

king is always pleased, Seigneur Amaury.’
    De Craon pulled his face into mock grief and spread his hands.
    ‘I hope His Majesty is in good humour. We were grieved to hear of the death of one of his clerks, Simon Roulles, a student of the Sorbonne. Such a dreadful death! Surely it proves Scripture, that we never know the time or the place of our demise?’
    ‘My dear Amaury.’ Corbett faced him squarely. ‘None of us know the time and place. But the good Lord be my witness. If there is a time and place when I can settle accounts with you,’ he held his hand up in a gesture of peace, ‘pax et bonum, my dear Amaury.’
    The French envoy bowed, stepped aside and swept into the royal chamber.
    ‘My dear, dear Amaury!’ Edward of England halfrose from his seat, then slouched back as if the effort was too much. He gestured at the chair Corbett had vacated. ‘I understand you have been enjoying the air of Sussex ?’
    ‘I am grieved, sir.’ De Craon took a seat.
    Edward offered his cup. De Craon took it and sipped, pleased at this mark of favour.
    ‘At the death of Lord Henry and, of course, Signor Cantrone. Now I bring you official news of the death of Simon Roulles. Sire, accept my condolences as well as those of his most gracious majesty the King of France.’
    ‘God only knows your grief,’ Edward replied. He gestured at a sheaf of documents in front of him. ‘And I have similar bad news: Pierre Rafael?’ He raised one eyebrow. De Craon tensed. ‘A French student in the Halls of Oxford,’ the King explained. ‘A man, indeed, who seemed to spend most of his life in study. Pierre often journeyed to our eastern ports, he appeared very interested in shipping...’
    ‘What happened to him?’ de Craon asked quickly.
    ‘Unfortunately he was drowned,’ the King replied. ‘His body was fished out of the Thames . My own clerk, Master Aidan Smallbone, was in the vicinity at the time. He examined the corpse most carefully, a boating accident.’ Edward spread his hands apologetically. ‘These students and their drinking!’
    De Craon swallowed hard. He would miss Pierre . He wondered how Edward of England had discovered his spy’s true identity.
    ‘Simon often writes to his family in England ,’ the King continued.
    ‘Sire, what has this got to do with the negotiations for the betrothal of your son and the Princess Isabella?’
    Edward waved a hand. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. My good friend, John de Warrenne, Earl of Surrey, will lead our embassy. You should be in Dover in three days and in France before the end of the week. Other lords and ladies will accompany him.’
    ‘So, the betrothal will go ahead?’
    ‘Of course!’ Edward smiled. ‘It is a sworn treaty, sanctified by the Holy Father in Avignon . However, there are one or two little clauses I would like to discuss with you.’
    ‘What clauses?’
    ‘Ah, that’s why I mentioned Roulle’s letters. He was a great gossiper, a friend of Lord Henry Fitzalan, not to mention Signor Cantrone and Lady Madeleine. Well, to cut a long story short, de Craon, I am deeply distressed at the malicious rumours that Queen Johanna of France did not die of natural causes.’ Edward kept his face grave though he was gratified by the alarm in de Craon’s eyes. ‘Some say that she was poisoned. Isn’t that dreadful?’
    ‘They lie and my master will have their heads!’ de Craon retorted.
    ‘Quite right.’ Edward scratched his head. ‘These same scurrilous gossips also point to the sudden and unexplained deaths of Monsieur Gilles Malvoisin, Queen Johanna’s physician, and Madame Malvoisin his wife, not to mention Malvoisin’s assistant and close friend Signor Cantrone.’
    De Craon licked his lips. Edward leaned forward.
    ‘It grieves my heart, Amaury,’ he said in a low voice, ‘that these same gossips lay the blame for Queen Johanna’s death at the door of my beloved brother in Christ, Philip. They tell fabulous tales, how Philip wishes to marry again, a Flemish princess! Or, even worse, that he wishes to become a bachelor, gain entry into the Templars and so dominate that Order.’
    ‘These are lies! What is their source?’
    ‘We’ll come to that in a while.’ Edward offered his goblet to de Craon. ‘I merely tell you this out of friendship.’
    De Craon took the cup.
    ‘So incensed am I by these malicious rumours,’ Edward continued, thoroughly enjoying himself, ‘that I intend to write to the Holy Father and, indeed, all the