Spy in Chancery

niceties of the Chancery and the Exchequer, trusted his instincts and believed he was in danger and should either fight or flee. Nevertheless, remembering Ranulf's advice, he searched out and found Gareth squatting in the corner of the parapet walk on the curtain wall.
    'You are well, Gareth?' The man smiled, saliva dripping out of his mouth. Corbett looked quickly around 'and, digging into his purse, drew out a silver coin.
    'This is for you, Gareth, if you tell me about the ships which have just gone.'
    Corbett watched Gareth intently, certain he saw a flicker of recognition, of intelligence in the watery eyes.
    'What ships? What does Master Englishman want to know about the ships?'
    'So you know there were ships?' Corbett crouched and pulled out another coin. Gareth glanced quickly around, his eyes sliding like bubbles on water.
    'Three ships,' he whispered and stretched out his hand.
    'Ah,' Corbett withdrew. 'What ships?'
    'French,' Gareth replied. 'I said to myself they are French, flying their great blue and gold pennants. Oh, a brave sight, Master spy.'
    Corbett stared at Gareth and smiled realising Ranulf was right, this man only acted the fool. Gareth confirmed his suspicions: the French were visiting Neath, their ships finding it easy to slip into the deserted coves along the desolate coasdine of South Wales. This explained the beacons, Morgan's secretiveness as well as his wine cellar, though Corbett suspected die French brought arms and stores as well as tuns of red Bordeaux. Philip was intent on raising a rebellion in Wales and Morgan was his chief ally but was there a link with Philip's spy on Edward's council?
    Corbett emptied his purse and showed Gareth a clutch of coins.
    'They are yours,' he said, 'if you can tell me why Talbot died?'
    Gareth wiped saliva from his slack lips and stared at Corbett, the vacuous expression in his eyes, replaced by a wary cunning. 'Master Talbot,' he drooled, 'was an inquisitive man who also paid,' he stretched out a be-grimed claw-like hand and Corbett dropped a few coins into it before drawing back.
    'Gareth,' he added warningly. 'You are trying my patience.'
    Gareth smiled. 'Master Talbot had a quarrel with the Lord Morgan.'
    'What was said?'
    'Nothing, except the Lord Morgan accused him of prying where he should not.'
    'Anything else?'
    'No, except I heard Talbot, Master Talbot, that is, mention something about saddling. I suppose he intended leaving, there was something else.'
    'Yes. What?'
    'A man called Waterdoun.'
    'You mean Waterton?'
    'Yes, I think so for I heard both Lord Morgan and Master Talbot use that name.'
    Is there more?'
    Gareth turned, looking slyly out of the corner of his eyes.
    'Oh, no,' he replied. 'That's all Gareth knows. Truly, so why not pay Gareth his money.8
    Corbett handed the rest of the money over and rose to go. He heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to the parapet walk and hastily distanced himself from Gareth but Owen came tripping up the stairs and stood, legs apart, blocking Corbett's path. Dressed in black, Owen looked like some sleek, well-groomed crow, his glittering eyes stared at Corbett and then beyond to where Gareth say huddled in terror.
    'So,' the Welshman said in his half-sung tones, 'the Englishmen have been talking and now Master Corbett has to be away. Ah well,' he stood to one side and mockingly bowed with an ornate flourish of hands for Corbett to continue down the steps. The clerk turned and looked pityingly at Gareth crouched like a frightened rabbit, there was little he could do and he had to prepare himself. Clutching the dagger beneath his cloak, Corbett glared at Owen and passed him by and, throat dry, his heart thudding with fear, he walked slowly down the steps, half expecting Owen to challenge him, listening intently for the hiss of steel as sword or dagger were pulled from their sheath.
    Nothing. Corbett reached the bottom and continued his journey across the castle yard and up the steps into the keep. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against the cold, grey stones as he tried to control the terror which had drenched him in sweat and threatened to turn his bowels and legs to water. He breathed deeply, gulping the air until his heart ceased its beating and the warmth seeped back through his body.
    Corbett wanted to stay hidden in the dark gloom but he knew he had to prepare himself, he sighed and made his way slowly up to his chamber, leaving the door ajar while he hurriedly packed saddle-bags,