Spy in Chancery

Corbett's request Edward agreed to meet him in one of the rose gardens behind the Palace of Westminster, a small enclosure, the walls of the palace rising up on every side. Corbett usually loved the place with the roses in full bloom in their raised flower beds interspersed with small patches of herbs which, when crushed, gave off a fragrant smell but the King took one look at Corbett's face and realised that the clerk was blind to his surroundings and Edward was too cunning to push or try such a man's patience. Corbett was unshaven, his eyes red from lack of sleep, his garments stained due to hasty meals and a lack of time to bathe or even change. Edward gestured him to sit on one of the walls of the raised flower bed and sat alongside, almost as if they were two old friends rather than a king and a faithful retainer. Corbett asked the King to remain silent while he went through all the evidence he had collected and Edward did so, head bowed, hands in his lap, he listened like a priest Hearing the confession of a man who had not been shriven for years.
    Corbett talked quietly but remorselessly, building up a picture of what had happened to Edward's army in Gascony and tracing all the developments since. The loss of English spies in Paris, the destruction of the ship St. Christopher, his own adventures there, his suspicions and why he had eventually decided that this particular person was the traitor. He produced evidence, sheet after sheet of vellum with carefully written conclusions which Edward studied. When Corbett finally finished, the King, head in hands, could hardly believe it.
    Corbett watched him nervously. Edward was a strange man, on the one hand, hard, ruthless, he would without any compunction, order men, women and even children to be slain in a town which had resisted him. On the other, he was almost like a child, if he trusted someone he expected that trust to be returned and could never understand why people broke their word. The person Corbett named had not only broken the oath of fealty and loyalty but friendship and trust as well.
    Edward asked one question. 'Are you certain, Corbett?' and the clerk answered it with his own.
    'Are you sure, your Grace?'
    The King nodded. 'I am,' he replied quietly. 'He is undoubtedly a traitor. Any court in Christendom would accept the evidence you have offered and sent him immediately to the scaffold. If it is to be done,' a note of hardness crept into the King's voice, 'then it had best be done quickly.' He called out and a retainer appeared at a small doorway which led into the palace. He came across to the King who whispered a few instructions into the man's ear. The man looked starded, but Edward repeated them fiercely. The retainer nodded and walked quickly away.
    While they waited the King just sat staring moodily into the distance as Corbett, for the final time, went over in his own mind the evidence he had acquired. The King was right, the man was a traitor and deserved to die but he still dreaded the coming meeting. Sir Thomas Tuberville stepped into the garden and the King beckoned him over to sit on the wall opposite him.
    'Sir Thomas,' the King began, 'You are to arrrest the traitor.'
    Tubervilie looked surprised. 'I thought we already had, your Grace. Waterton, the clerk, he is in the Tower.'
    'No! No!' the King answered. 'Waterton has been released. He is no more a traitor than Corbett here.'
    'Then who?'
    Corbett watched Tuberville's eyes narrow and the colour leave his face. Edward simply stretched out his hand and tapped Tuberviile gently on the leg.
    'You know who, Sir Thomas. Yourself! You are the traitor!'
    Tubervilie immediately sprang to his feet, his hand flying to the sword which hung from his belt.
    'Sir Thomas,' the King said, 'Do not do that. If you look up at the windows surrounding the garden you will notice that there are royal crossbow men placed at every one. They have orders to shoot you, not to kill you, but wound you in the arm or leg and I promise you that will only be the beginning of your agonies.'
    Tubervilie looked up and so did Corbett. The King was right. At every window, at every opening, they could see the glimpse of metal and a dash of colour, each representing a trained crossbow man, their evil weapons aiming directly down at Tuberville.
    Tuberville slouched back on the wall and Corbett almost felt sorry for him. A sheen of sweat had appeared on the man's pale face and the knight was doing his best to stop his body