Spy in Chancery

Craon left the dais and walked over to Corbett, he made little attempt to hide Ms pleasure over the proposed settlement. The Frenchman nodded benevolently at Ranulf and Hervey before turning to Corbett.
    'Well, Monsieur. You think your King will accept these terms?'
    'There is little reason to doubt he will,' Corbett replied.as non-committal as possible.
    De Craon rubbed his chin and smiled.
    'Good. Good.' He was about to turn away when suddenly, almost as an afterthought, he spun round. His Grace, the King is holding a banquet here tonight. He would like you/ he smiled expansively at Ranulf and Hervey, 'all of you to be his guests. Till then, adieu.'
    He sauntered off as if his every problem had been resolved. Corbett watched him go, trying to suppress the fury welling up inside him, making his heart pound harder and his throat constrict, Hervey expressed mild enjoyment at such a gracious invitation and recoiled in horror at the anger which blazed in Corbett's face.
    By the time Corbett and his party returned to the palace that same evening, the clerk's temper had cooled. He had accepted Philip's proposals on Edward's behalf but the English king was only vulnerable if the spy was allowed to remain free. Corbett now accepted that Waterton was not the traitor and hoped the over-confidence of the French would provide some sign, some due about whom they had bought on Edward's council.
    The French were certainly determined to show the full splendour of their power. The great hall shimmered in silks, velvet, multi-coloured tapestries: the tables were covered in white lawn fringed with gold. Silver plates, diamond-encrusted cups and gold flagons gleamed and winked in the light of thousands of
    beeswax candles in huge bronze candelabra placed in rows along the hall. Philip and his family, resplendent in purples, whites and golds, sat at the high table almost hidden by a huge pure gold salt cellar. In the gallery musicians with rebec, flute, tambour and viol competed desperately with the growing clamour as the wine circulated and servants brought in course after course of lampreys, eels, salmon, venison garnished with tangy spices, a huge swan cooked and dressed, it seemed to swim on the great silver serving plate. Corbett and his party sat at a table just beneath the great dais, de Craon opposite them a smile on his face as he stared directly across at Corbett.
    The English clerk did not relish the enjoyment on his opponent's face and sat there, moodily playing with his food and sipping gently from his cup. Beside him, however, Ranulf and Hervey were eating like men who had been starved of food for months. De Craon watched them. His supercilious smile infuriated Corbett but the clerk had enough sense to realise that any outburst would only increase the Frenchman's enjoyment. It was evident that de Craon believed that he and Philip had achieved a diplomatic coup. Edward's heir would be married to Philip's daughter. Philip's grandson would one day sit on the English throne and, if Edward made any secret attempts to outflank the French manoeuvres, their spy on the English council would promptly inform them and to be forewarned was to be forearmed. Corbett pushed his plate away and rested his elbows on the table.
    'Monsieur,' he said softly, 'You must be very pleased by today's events.'
    De Craon idly picked his teeth with his finger, totally ignoring the look of disgust on Corbett's face.
    'Of course, Monsieur,' he said slowly, at the same time dislodging a piece of chewed meat from his teeth which he looked at before popping it back into his mouth. 'We do not see it as a victory,' he continued, 'but merely the restoration of Philip's rights in France and in Europe as a whole.'
    'And the hostages?' Corbett said carefully; 'They will be returned?'
    De Craon smirked. 'Of course. Once the processes have been sealed formally by your master, we will ship them home as quickly as possible. They are a burden on ihe royal expenses.'
    'All of them?' Corbett sharply enquired. The smile on de Craon's face vanished.
    'What do you mean?' he asked suspiciously.
    'Does that include the Earl of Richmond's daughter?'
    'Of course.'
    Corbett nodded. 'Good! And Tuberville's sons?'
    'Of course,' de Craon snapped.
    The French clerk sipped slowly from his flagon. Corbett had watched him throughout the meal and realised that the Frenchman had drunk often and deep. His face was now flushed, his eyes glittering, a mixture of self-satisfaction and rich