Spy in Chancery

cloth except for the large central throne covered in purple velvet fringed with gold. Before this was a low stool and Corbett had no illusions about who was to sit there. The hall filled with various officials, men in the different striped robes of Philip's household, black and white, red and gold, green and black: household knights in silver-plated Milanese armour took up position around the hall, their drawn swords placed point down between their mailed feet, hands resting on the jewelled cross-hilts. Heralds in the gallery above the dais flourished their trumpets and a shrill, braying blast silenced the clamour of the hall. A side door opened, two thurifers, dressed in white robes with gold girdles round their waists, entered, their slowly swaying censers sending puffs of fragrant incense up into the hall. They took up positions at either end of the dais as the heralds followed, each bearing huge banners. Corbett only had eyes for the one carrying the Oriflamme, the sacred pennant of the Capetian kings usually kept behind the high altar in the royal chapel of St. Denis.
    The heralds were followed by members of Philip's family, sons, brothers and cousins, all resplendent in purple and gold. There was a pause, silence and then the trumpets brayed another long thrilling blast and Philip entered, brilliant in cloth of gold, his gown fringed with the costliest lambswool. A pair of golden spurs clanked on his black leather riding-boots which peered incongruously from beneath • the long court gown. Corbett smiled to himself. Philip IV was a master of protocol and court ceremony but, even here, he could not hide his great love of hunting. Corbett suspected that the King had recently returned from one of his hunting lodges in either the Bois de Boulogne or the forests of Vincennes.
    Philip sat on the throne, his family and entourage also took their seats. De Craon appeared as if from nowhere and beckoned Corbett and his party forward to the stools, Ranulf and Hervey sat down, overawed and open-mouthed at the gorgeous panoply of splendid power around them. Corbett slowly took his seat, carefully arranging his robe, taking time with all his movements before schooling his features to become the experienced diplomat prepared to receive messages on behalf of his royal master.
    He stared at Philip but the French king's face was impassive as carved alabaster, though Corbett was quietly pleased to see a flicker of annoyance cross de Craon's face. Clerks scurried about, documents were unrolled and once more Corbett had to listen to the Process of Gascony, a long list of French grievances over the duchy. He had heard it before and sat half-listening as the clerk droned on, only becoming attentive when the clerk paused to intone a new passage, 'Autem nunc Regi Franciae placet', 'However it now pleases the King of France'.
    Corbett listened carefully, trying to control his excitement as the clerk began to unfold Philip's offer of peace. The French king was prepared to submit all grievances to His Holiness, Pope Boniface VIII -Philip's creature Corbett thought: the French would restore the duchy in the hope that Edward would agree to a marriage between the Prince of Wales and Philip's daughter, Isabella, and that Gascony would eventually be ruled by one of their offspring. So, Corbett mused, he had been correct: Philip could not hold the duchy for ever but might restore it on a binding arbitration guaranteed by the Pope. At the same time he would limit Edward's own diplomacy whilst ensure that one grandson would sit on the throne of England while another ruled Gascony.
    The clerk stopped talking. Corbett was aware that the French, including Philip, were staring at him, awaiting his reply but he had already decided, Lancaster had given him one instruction:
    'Agree to anything, anything which will give us time. Once we have the duchy, we can think again about Philip's terms.'
    Corbett cleared his throat.
    'Placet,' he stated, 'Hic Regi Angliae placebit – this pleases, will please the King of England.' Corbett sensed the deep relief of the French. Philip almost smiled, his entourage visibly relaxed, while de Craon's glee was more than apparent. Corbett shifted uneasily: he had overlooked one thing: as long as Philip's traitor was on Edward's council, the French would always know of any attempt by Edward to subvert or ignore the terms of the arbitration.
    Nevertheless, it was too late now: Philip rose, the meeting was at an end. De