Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer

by Paul Doherty

Corbett pointed back to the trackway. ‘I suspect this young woman was coming from the Devil-in-the-Woods. She was travelling either to the manor or to the priory or, perhaps, north to London. She turned that corner. The assassin must have stood somewhere near here, arrow notched. There’s a well-known outlaw’s trick. You throw a stone in the air and let it fall on the trackway.’

  ‘And the victim naturally looks up?’

  ‘Yes, presenting his throat as a suitable target.’

  ‘The archer must have been a good marksman?’ the Franciscan insisted.

  ‘We do not know how close he was,’ Corbett replied. ‘But he was definitely skilled with the bow and he fully intended to kill. You served in the wars, Brother. Do you recall a man suffering a throat wound and surviving? Anyway, the assassin steps on to the trackway and drags the corpse down here where it’s stripped and buried. The poor unfortunate’s clothing, smock, dress, boots, belt and cloak.’ He paused, watching a squirrel scamper up the trunk of a tree.

  Ranulf looked at Corbett curiously. His master stood, mouth half open, brow furrowed.

  ‘Master, you were talking of the corpse being stripped?’

  ‘Of course,’ Corbett breathed. ‘Why strip a corpse?’

  ‘Because you need the clothes?’ the hermit half-joked.

  ‘No, no.’ Corbett shook his head. ‘The assassin was no common thief. He was waiting for this young woman. I doubt if she came upon him by chance. It has all the hallmarks of a well-plotted ambush. Our archer can afford a good bow, a quiver of arrows. So, why should he be so keen on some poor woman’s clothes?’ He punched Ranulf on the shoulder. ‘Come on, Clerk of the Green Wax, clear your wits! Remember that corpse, the cropped hair, the sinewy body.’

  ‘A man!’ Ranulf exclaimed. ‘The woman was travelling disguised as a man! That’s why the clothes had to be removed. If you go back to the tavern and ask, as we have, “Can you remember a young woman?” the answer, of course, will be “No!”’

  ‘In life as in love,’ Corbett observed, ‘the truth’s always the same: very obvious to those who search for it! Brother Cosmas and Odo, I beg you a favour. Would you mind digging round this shallow grave?’

  Brother Cosmas stared truculently back.

  ‘I asked you as a favour,’ Corbett added evenly. ‘I will do my share as well.’

  At this Brother Cosmas picked up the spade and mattock. He gave the latter to Odo and they began to dig while Corbett led Ranulf away.

  ‘How well do you know these woods, Ranulf?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Very well. Go back to the Devil-in-the-Woods. Search out young Baldock: he is now groom and Master of Horse to Sir Hugh Corbett, King’s Commissioner. Sir William won’t object. Tell him I’ll draw the indentures up tonight before we go to Rye.’

  ‘Rye!’ Ranulf exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, Rye. Baldock has two tasks. First, he’s to take you to Savernake Dell and, when you’re finished, to bring you back to the tavern. Afterwards he’s to go and ask Sir William for a letter of release from his service.’

  ‘What am I looking for in Savernake Dell?’

  ‘Well, any sign of Sir William being ill.’

  ‘Sir Hugh!’

  ‘More importantly, see how long it takes to run from where Lord Henry was killed to the other side of the dell and back. Baldock will help you, he knows where everybody stood.’

  Ranulf left. Corbett joined the others. They’d dug into the grave but only unearthed a silver button, no bigger than a groat.

  ‘Would the assassin have hidden the clothes here?’ Brother Cosmas asked. ‘If he took such pains to strip the corpse?’

  ‘True.’

  Corbett squatted at the side of the pit, eyes half-closed, listening to the sounds of the forest. Brother Cosmas had led the digging and the clerk was suspicious. The Franciscan was an intelligent man. He had made no attempt to search elsewhere: like some menial servant, he had literally followed Corbett’s orders, digging deeper, not accepting the logic that the assassin would scarcely have dug a deep grave only to bury the clothing, cover that up and place the corpse on top. Odo was also sullen, distracted. Corbett’s hand travelled to the hilt of his dagger. He had acted arrogantly! Here he was with two strangers, both of whom were under suspicion, yet he was alone in the forest with them where any accident might occur. He got to his feet, quietly promising that he would not turn his back on this precious pair.

  ‘I have shown you,’ Odo protested. ‘And I have dug. Apart from a button, we have found nothing.’

  Corbett looked along the bank. Were these two men guilty of the murder? Had Odo brought him here because he had no choice? Corbett drew his dagger.

  ‘The corpse was dragged down here,’ he began. ‘The assassin moved quickly. The corpse is stripped and swiftly buried.’ Corbett looked to his left and pointed to the thick gorse and undergrowth which sprouted along the side of the bank. ‘The assassin would wish to be away from here as swiftly as possible. He hurriedly put the clothing in a bag.’ Corbett walked to the far side of the freshly dug pit. ‘Then up, across the trackway, and into the forest.’ He crouched down and sifted with his dagger among the brambles and leaves. ‘Let us hope he dropped something.’

  The two men didn’t join him. Corbett continued his search, using his dagger to scrape away the grass and weeds which clung so tenaciously to the soil. He carefully divided the ground into small squares, moving along the bottom of the bank and then up. Now and again he glanced at Brother Cosmas and Odo. They had drawn aside, whispering to each other. Corbett was about to ask them to join him but he decided it would be safer if they kept their distance. He was also unsure what they would do if they found anything untoward.

  He was halfway up the bank when he found two small loops of cloth, luxurious in texture, now stained with grass and mud. Each had golden twine running round the centre and was more than an inch in circumference, the stitching small and precise. Corbett put these in his wallet, continued his search but found nothing else.

  When Corbett clambered back on to the trackway, he pulled out the two pieces of cloth and studied them intently; two minute, costly pieces of needlework.

  ‘You’ve found something, master clerk?’

  Brother Cosmas and the hermit walked over.

  ‘I think I have.’ Corbett stretched out his hand. ‘But I can’t guess what they signify.’ He put the items back in his purse. ‘I have one last favour.’

  ‘I must be getting back to my church!’ Brother Cosmas announced. ‘I have other duties, sir, apart from being host to a royal clerk and a digger of ditches!’

  Corbett fished in his purse for a coin but the friar shook his head.

  ‘Keep your silver, sir. Let’s have done what you want.’

  ‘Just lead me to St Hawisia’s,’ Corbett asked. ‘I must have words with Lady Madeleine.’

  A short while later the friar, still surly and withdrawn, left Corbett at the main gate of the priory and walked away without a by your leave. Corbett watched him and Odo go. He felt his suspicions were, perhaps, unworthy but, then again, they had deceived him. Both lived in Ashdown and both certainly had the motive and means to kill Lord Henry. He sighed and pulled at the bell rope. The small postern door in the main gate opened and an exasperated Sister Veronica waved him into the courtyard.

  ‘I knew it was you!’ she rasped. ‘I looked through the grille and saw you coming with that precious pair!’

  ‘Sister, for the love of Christ, don’t you have any charity?’

  ‘More than you, sir. But it’s up to me how and when I dispense it!’

  She took him through the rose garden towards the priory buildings.

  ‘I would like to see Lady Madeleine.’

  ‘Well, I know you haven’t come to see me. You’ll go, like the rest, to the guest house and wait for her there.’

  Corbett plucked at her sleeve. The little nun stopped and peered up at him.

  ‘What is it, clerk?’

  ‘W
hy don’t you take me to the prioress?’

  ‘Lady Madeleine has her own house,’ Sister Veronica explained slowly as if Corbett was dim in wit. ‘She has her own house,’ she repeated. ‘Garden, stable and kitchen. No man is allowed in there.’

  ‘I’ll remember that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing. But, Sister Veronica, one more question? You remember the corpse of the young woman left at the postern gate?’

  ‘Of course I do. I heard the bell ring. I opened the gate and it was lying there.’

  ‘Naked?’

  ‘Oh no, wrapped in a grey blanket or cloak, I forget which.’

  ‘And who looked after it?’

  ‘Well, first, I sent a message to Lady Madeleine.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She ordered the corpse to be brought into our death house. It’s a small building in our cemetery. One of the labourers picked it up and put it there. When our prioress graciously agreed to have it buried here, I washed the corpse and put it in one of our gowns; a short while later it was buried. Any more questions, master clerk?’

  ‘No, no, I haven’t.’

  Sister Veronica strode on. She took Corbett round the church to a small, pleasant, two-storied building, through the wooden porch and into a large, whitewashed chamber. The guest room was stark and sparsely furnished. A large, black crucifix was fixed to one side of the window and a carving of St Hawisia to the other.

  ‘This is our rest room,’ she explained. ‘The prioress will probably see you here.’ Sister Veronica gestured at a stool before closing the door. ‘Sir down. I’ll bring you something to eat and drink.’

  A short while later Sister Veronica returned with a jug of mead and a small dish of sugar-coated pastries.

  ‘Lady Madeleine will see you when she can.’

  Corbett wanted to question her further but Sister Veronica, despite her age, almost ran from the room, slamming the door behind her, so he picked up the jug of mead and went to the window to look out across the yard. He tried to make sense of everything he had learned this morning but he knew he would need Ranulf’s help to untangle the different strands. He was pleased with what he had found but now conceded he had made little progress. He knew who the Owlman was but how much closer was he to unmasking the murderer? Or was it a group of assassins? People who lived in Ashdown, hated Lord Henry and plotted together to destroy him? And, of course, there was de Craon and his party. But how could he question them? De Craon was an accredited French envoy who would be only too delighted to refuse to answer Corbett’s questions. Even if he did, Corbett mused as he sipped from the tankard, de Craon would scarcely tell him the truth.

  ‘You are here yet again, royal clerk.’

  Startled, he turned round. Lady Madeleine had quietly opened the door and slipped into the room. He could tell he was not welcome from the way her fingers tapped the side of her white gown while the other hand played with the medallion round her neck.

  ‘More questions, clerk?’

  Corbett slammed the jug down on the table.

  ‘Yes, my lady, more questions! Piers Gaveston has, by royal decree, been exiled from this kingdom. He has been banished under forfeiture. It is a serious violation of the law to offer such an exile refuge and security. So, don’t act the high lady with me. You, and Sir William, are guilty of a very grave offence. I believe your brother brought Gaveston from the coast. He allowed the exile to shelter in disguise at the tavern. Gaveston was later allowed into these grounds, yes, even into your own house.’

  Lady Madeleine’s eyelids fluttered. She swallowed hard.

  ‘I am protected by Holy Mother Church!’ she rasped.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I haven’t come to arrest you but I speak the truth. You sheltered Gaveston here, didn’t you? He came here on two occasions. He was seen entering your private chambers.’

  ‘Gaveston’s more woman than I!’ she retorted. ‘Everyone knows that!’ She sat on the bench. ‘The arrogant fool! He came across the grounds, like some troubadour. Who saw him?’

  ‘It’s best if I don’t tell you!’

  Lady Madeleine sniffed noisily.

  ‘In our youth, Sir William and I were playmates of the young prince. Edward asked for Sir William’s protection and help and he gave it. I was drawn into the intrigue. The Prince of Wales sent a letter under his private seal, saying that when he became king he would not forget my help and assistance or that of the Blessed Hawisia’s shrine.’ She smiled thinly, took a string of Ave beads from a pocket in her robe, and threaded them through her fingers. ‘I told him how to come,’ she continued as if talking to herself. ‘You’ve seen my house. It’s built into the curtain wall of the priory with its own stables and yard. He could have arrived stealthily. But, oh no, Gaveston the young cock comes striding through, spurs clinking. He thought it was so amusing!’

  ‘And when the Prince came here?’

  ‘They met in the church; the Prince locked the door behind him. They were both in disguise. I told the good sisters they were stone masons, come here to look at possible building work. Edward then left, and shortly afterwards Gaveston followed.’

  ‘How many times?’

  ‘As you’ve said, clerk, twice he was seen, wasn’t he? And what are you going to do now? Send letters to Westminster?’

  ‘No, madam.’ Corbett pulled a stool across and sat down. ‘I’d like a mite more courtesy and co-operation.’

  ‘Over what?’

  ‘Your brother’s death.’

  ‘I know nothing of it. Henry was an arrogant fool.’

  ‘And the death of that young woman?’

  ‘I’ve told you all I know. Her corpse was left at our postern door, and I gave it Christian burial.’

  ‘Do you know she was probably travelling disguised as a man?’

  Lady Madeleine shrugged. ‘What is that to do with me? We found her naked, we shrouded her, we buried her.’

  ‘Except for the cloak wrapped around her,’ Corbett added.

  ‘God knows where that is now, master clerk!’

  ‘And Pancius Cantrone?’ Corbett demanded. ‘The Italian physician. You know he has been killed? An arrow to the throat. His corpse was found on the edge of a marsh. He must have been murdered shortly after he left here.’

  Lady Madeleine sighed noisily. ‘Sir Hugh, look at this priory. It’s an oasis of calm, of holiness: sure protection against the cruel world of Lord Henry and other men.’ She spat the words out. ‘I rarely leave the grounds. I am sorry for Cantrone’s death but how can I help?’

  ‘But you summoned him here?’

  ‘Yes, he was a very good physician. Sister Fidelis’ knuckles were swollen. I have told Lady Johanna the choir mistress to be more temperate in her dealings.’

  ‘Can I see Sister Fidelis now?’

  ‘If you wish. But why?’

  ‘When Cantrone left here,’ Corbett continued, ‘did you notice if he was carrying anything?’

  ‘Sir Hugh, I hardly knew the man. He came into the priory at our behest. I introduced him to our novice mistress, Lady Marcellina. She took him down to see Sister Fidelis. He examined her hands, recommended her treatment and, as customary, we gave him something to eat and drink, then he left. If you wish to speak to Lady Marcellina and Sister Fidelis I can arrange that. But there is little more I can say.’

  Corbett scratched his head; he was tired and nothing made sense.

  ‘And Seigneur de Craon?’ he asked. ‘The French envoy, has he ever come here?’

  ‘He made two visits to our shrine. I met him on one occasion. I did not like his impudent eyes, but I know nothing of his dealings with my brothers.’ She rose to her feet. ‘But you wished to see the sisters I have named?’

  Corbett made to refuse.

  ‘No, I insist!’

  And, without a word, Lady Madeleine left the room. A short while later the harsh-faced Lady Marcellina, together with a smiling Sister Fidelis, her fingers wreathed in bandages, came int
o the room. Corbett questioned them. Sister Fidelis was subdued but smiled at him with her eyes.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she declared, glancing sideways at Lady Marcellina. ‘My knuckles began to swell like small plums. I showed this to Lady Marcellina and she told our prioress.’

  ‘And the physician was sent for?’

  ‘One of the grooms must have brought him,’ the novice mistress said.

  ‘You don’t have a leech and an apothecary here?’

  ‘Sir Hugh, we are nuns, not physicians. Sister Fidelis’ fingers did alarm Lady Madeleine. Moreover, the Italian had been invited here on a number of occasions to treat certain of our sisters. He was a man skilled in the use of physic.’

  ‘Was?’ Corbett queried.

  Lady Marcellina forced her face into a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Lady Madeleine has told us the terrible news of how the poor man was murdered after he left here.’

  ‘Did he say or do anything untoward?’ Corbett asked.

  He heard the door open beside him and Lady Madeleine returned.

  ‘All I know,’ Lady Marcellina said in exasperation, ‘is that I was summoned to the prioress’s chamber. She introduced the physician and told me to take him to Sister Fidelis. He examined her knuckles, pronounced the swellings were deep bruises under the skin. He recommended a herbal poultice.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Sister Veronica brought him some food and drink. He ate, drank and left.’

  Corbett gazed at the young nun, who listened round-eyed to her superior, all the time nodding her head in agreement.

  ‘He did seem distracted,’ Sister Fidelis offered. ‘Oh, he was kind and patient but it was as if his mind were elsewhere.’

  ‘If there’s nothing else, Sir Hugh?’ Lady Madeleine murmured.

  ‘No, my lady, there’s nothing else.’

  ‘Well, stay there a while, I will send some food and drink. You must refresh yourself before you leave. Please.’ Lady Madeleine smiled. ‘I feel, Sir Hugh, as if I have been discourteous. I would like to give you a gift before you leave. Our honey is famous throughout Sussex. Sister Veronica will bring you a jar. In the meantime let our kitchens refresh the inner man.’

  Corbett was about to object but he realised he was being churlish so he agreed. The three nuns left. Corbett finished the mead. He heard the bells of the priory calling the sisters to prayer.