Paul Doherty - Murder Wears a Cowl

‘And if I am right,’ Corbett soothingly replied, ‘then we shall all dance round the maypole.’

He led the archers and men-at-arms into the narrow alleyway leading down to the wharves and quays. Instructions were whispered and, at last, they reached the riverside. Corbett glimpsed the Grace a Dieu ; its ramps were still down but the sailors were already scaling the masts to prepare the ship for sail.

‘Now!’ Corbett shouted.

He, Cade and Ranulf led the charge across the cobbled stones. The ramps were stormed. Two men-at-arms, wearing the royal livery of France, tried to block their progress but were knocked aside as English archers and men-at-arms swarmed all over the ship. Sailors caught unawares in the rigging were ordered down, soldiers found between decks were disarmed.

In a few minutes the ship was secured and the French soldiers reduced to mere bystanders. The door of the small cabin in the poop opened and de Craon, followed by de Nevers, stormed across the deck to where Corbett and Cade stood at the foot of the great mast.

‘This is outrageous!’ de Craon yelled. ‘We are the accredited envoys of King Philip, this is a French ship!’ He pointed to the large banner jutting out from the poop. ‘We sail under the royal protection of the House of Capet!’

‘I don’t care if you sail under the direct protection of the Holy Father!’ Corbett replied. ‘You have been up to mischief again, de Craon. I want the King of England’s gold back. Now!’

De Craon’s eyes flickered with amusement. ‘So, we are thieves?’

‘Yes. You are!’

‘You’ll answer for this!’

‘Either way, monsieur, I’ll answer!’ Corbett turned to Cade. ‘Search the ship!’

The under-sheriff turned and rapped out orders and, despite de Craon’s protests, the English soldiers fell to with a will. The cabin was ransacked but the searchers came out grim-faced, shaking their heads. A troop was sent down to the hold. Corbett just stared at de Craon, who stood arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently on the deck. The English clerk deliberately did not look at de Nevers but whispered to Ranulf where to stand. The soldiers came up from below.

‘There’s nothing,’ they said. ‘Just cloth and sacks of food stuff.’

Corbett controlled his panic as he sensed the dismay of Cade and the other officers. He knew the gold and silver were on board; but where?

‘Master.’

‘Shut up, Ranulf!’

Ranulf grabbed Corbett by the arm. ‘Master, I used to run along these wharves. This ship is ready for sea, yes? There are sailors in the rigging preparing to sail. They are looking for a speedy departure.’

‘So?’

‘Master, the ship’s anchor is down. It should be up!’

Corbett turned his back on de Craon. ‘Ranulf, what are you saying?’

‘Master, they haven’t raised the anchor!’

Corbett smiled and turned to Cade. ‘I want three swimmers to make sure that the anchor of this ship is fine. Perhaps check the hawser chain?’

De Craon’s face paled, his jaw fell open. De Nevers began to move to the rail but Corbett seized him by the arm.

‘Master Puddlicott,’ he hissed. ‘I insist you stay!’

‘Puddlicott!’ de Craon snapped.

‘Yes, monsieur, an English criminal wanted by the sheriff of this city and other counties for a list of crimes as long as this river!’

De Nevers tried to break away. Corbett clicked his fingers and indicated to two men-at-arms to hold him fast. Meanwhile, Cade had selected his volunteers. Three archers stripped off their helmets, sallets and sword belts, kicked off their boots and slipped like water rats into the scum-covered river. They dived out of sight and resurfaced, shouting triumphantly.

‘Sacks!’ one of them yelled, spitting out water and shaking his head. ‘There are heavy sacks of coins tied to the anchor chain!’

‘Bring a barge round,’ Corbett ordered. ‘Have the swimmers retrieve the sacks, place a strong guard and order carts to take the sacks to Sheen Palace!’

Cade hurried away, shouting orders. Corbett looked at his opponents.

‘Monsieur de Craon, I will leave you now. I will take Master Puddlicott; for it is Richard Puddlicott, not Raoul de Nevers, isn’t it? He’s an English subject owing allegiance to our King and will undoubtedly answer for his terrible crimes.’

De Nevers yelled at de Craon but the Frenchman just shook his head and the white-faced prisoner was hustled away.

‘We knew nothing of this,’ de Craon protested. ‘We accepted de Nevers for what he claimed to be.’

Corbett grinned at the blatant lie and pointed to the anchor chain. ‘And I suppose,’ he replied, ‘as you raised anchor and set sail you would have found sacks tied by strong cords to the chain. Of course, you would claim it was treasure trove and take it home to your royal master as a fresh subsidy for his armies in Flanders. Naturally, when the time was ripe, you would whisper about what you had done and turn Edward of England into a laughing stock, a prince who lost his gold so his enemy could use it to attack his allies.’ Corbett shook his head. ‘Come, come, monsieur. Our Chancery will lodge objections with yours. You will protest your innocence but you are still a liar and a bungling fool!’

Corbett, followed by Ranulf, walked to the rail.

‘Did you send them?’ Corbett shouted back over his shoulder. He turned and stared into the hate-filled eyes of the Frenchman.

‘Did I send whom?’ De Craon snapped back.

‘The assassins who attacked us?’

De Craon smiled and shook his head. ‘One day, Corbett, I will!’

Corbett and Ranulf strode down the ramp where their prisoner waited, now securely chained between two guards. Behind him the clerk heard the whistles of the officers ordering their men off the French ship and the hurried cries of the French captain, eager to get the Grace a Dieu to sea as swiftly as possible.

‘Where shall we take the prisoner, Sir Hugh?’

Corbett looked at the officer, then at Puddlicott.

‘Newgate will do, but he is to remain chained between two guards.’ Corbett stepped closer and stared into the bland face of this master trickster. ‘Puddlicott, the actor,’ he whispered and touched the man’s blond hair. ‘How often was this dyed, eh? Black, red, russet? And the beard? Grown and shaved, then grown again to suit your purposes?’

Puddlicott stared back coolly. ‘What proof do you have, Master Corbett?’

‘All I need. You know Adam of Warfield has been taken? He puts the blame squarely on you. Oh, I know about the disguises; the beard, the different coloured hair, the cowl and the hood, but they won’t save you from the hangman’s noose. I take no enjoyment in this, Puddlicott, but you are going to hang.’

The arrogant coolness slipped from Puddlicott’s face.

‘If you make a confession,’ Corbett continued. ‘And answer certain questions, then perhaps something can be done.’

‘Such as what?’ Puddlicott sneered.

‘You committed treason. You know the new laws. To be half-hanged, cut down, disembowelled and quartered.’

Corbett flinched at the fear in the prisoner’s eyes.

‘Well, Master Clerk,’ he slurred. ‘Perhaps we should talk.’

Corbett stared along the quayside. There was nothing he could do for this man except make his captivity a little easier.

‘Bring the prisoner!’ he ordered.

The soldiers, with Puddlicott in between them, followed Corbett and Ranulf into a small ale house. Corbett demanded that the room be cleared.

‘Release him!’ he ordered the soldiers. ‘Let him keep his chains. You can guard the door outside.’

The soldiers, disappointed — their hopes of a free meal being dashed — released Puddlicott but rearranged the gyves of his chains so he could shuffle and still use his hands. Corbett pushed the prisoner over to a corner table.