Paul Doherty - The Demon Archer

‘Lady Madeleine has to answer a few questions.’

‘She has more to answer than she thinks. You saw that hair, Ranulf? Do you think it’s a genuine relic?’

‘The world is full of trickery, master. Aren’t there oils, potions, herbal concoctions which could keep it supple and fresh?’

They paused as the tavern keeper brought back traunchers with strips of crackling pork, freshly cut bread and some leeks and onions, diced and sprinkled with marjoram.

‘You made the Ancient One’s day,’ he told them. ‘But the other matter?’ He glanced nervously at Corbett and the clerk wondered if mine host had known the identity of his secret visitor all the time.

‘Act the innocent,’ Corbett advised. ‘And innocent you’ll stay.’

The tavern keeper smiled and walked away. Corbett drew his knife, took a horn spoon from his wallet and began to cut up the pork.

‘Are you the King’s emissary?’

Corbett stared and turned. The young woman appeared as if out of nowhere. She was dressed in a sea-green cloak, fringed at the hem with red stitching. It covered her from neck to toe though Corbett glimpsed muddy-toed boots peeping out beneath. Yet it was her face which fascinated him. With the hair piled back beneath a dark-grey veil, it was so composed, so perfect she reminded him of a lifelike statue of the Virgin Mary he had once seen in a church outside Paris. She was olive-skinned, blue-eyed, with a perfect nose and red lips slightly parted displaying white and even teeth. She held Corbett’s stare.

‘Am I wasting your time, sir? I understand you are Sir Hugh Corbett, the King’s emissary.’

Corbett rose and pulled across a stool. He took the young woman’s gloved hand and gestured that she sit.

‘You are Alicia Verlian?’

The beautiful face broke into a smile.

‘How did you know?’

Corbett pointed to the cloak. ‘I suppose that hides a multitude of sins. You’ve left your house rather urgently. You’ve ridden along a muddy trackway so I wonder which woman would want to seek me out so urgently. I tell a lie. I’ve heard of your beauty.’

Corbett smiled at Ranulf, only to be shocked at the change in his manservant. Ranulf was never lost for words but now he sat like a man stricken: eyes staring, mouth gaping, a piece of meat, poised on his knife, half-raised to his mouth.

‘Ranulf!’

Ranulf closed his mouth and lowered his knife but his eyes never left Alicia’s face.

‘My servant is tired,’ Corbett explained.

Alicia smiled at Ranulf. ‘You’ve certainly been upsetting people,’ she said softly. ‘It’s common gossip both here and among the forest folk. Sir William came storming back to the manor and his servants were all agog.’

‘You want some wine?’ Corbett asked.

‘No, sir, I want justice.’ The young woman’s head came up, eyes bright and hard. ‘Lord Henry was a lecher, God rest him.’

Other customers turned. Corbett gave them a warning look and they went back to their meals.

‘Lower your voice, madam.’

‘Lord Henry was a lecher!’ This time her voice was louder. ‘A cruel and vicious man who received due punishment. God’s justice has been done.’

‘But not for your father,’ Corbett replied evenly.

‘My father is innocent of any crime.’

‘But he was not with the hunt!’

‘Neither was Sir William.’

‘Your father fled?’

‘Any man of wit would have done!’ she replied. ‘He was not with Lord Henry when he was killed. It was well known we had justifiable grievances against Lord Henry. If Sir William had caught my father, he would have hanged him out of hand.’

‘And now your father shelters in St Oswald’s?’

‘He shelters, sir, because that is the only place which will protect him, until royal justice is done.’

‘You can continue to shout at me,’ Corbett told her. He put his fingers on her leather-gloved hand; she did not withdraw it. ‘While I am here,’ he went on, studying those beautiful eyes, ‘no man will be hanged, no sentence carried out till the truth is known.’

‘Pilate asked what was truth. He was a judge.’

‘My name is not Pilate. It’s Sir Hugh Corbett. The truth will be discovered by careful questioning.’

‘Such as?’

‘Where was your father when the hunt was taking place?’

Alicia swallowed hard. ‘My father was with the others, the verderers.’

‘No, he wasn’t. He was with you, wasn’t he?’

Alicia blinked and nodded. ‘My father was terrified that Lord Henry would use the hunt, and his absence, to slip back and. .’

‘Meet you?’

‘No, Sir Hugh, accost me! Kick down the door, force himself upon me. As he tried to do on numerous occasions. I was frightened. My father was agitated. He came back to our house on the estate. I told him all would be well, then he left, hurrying back before he was missed.’

‘And during that time Lord Henry was killed?’

‘My father arrived at Savernake Dell shortly after the assassin struck. He took one look at what had happened and ran back to me. He wanted to flee, reach one of the ports, Rye, Winchelsea, go abroad.’ The young woman paused. ‘I refused. I said it was unjust to flee from a crime of which we were both innocent.’

‘Why didn’t you flee before?’ Corbett asked.

‘Sir Hugh, where could we go? My father is a verderer. The roads are full of landless families while Lord Henry’s arm was both strong and very long. Why should we give up our lives because of his lust?’

‘Are you glad he’s dead?’

‘He can burn in Hell for what he did to me and my father.’

‘And now?’ Corbett asked.

‘Sir William is one of the same stock. But, deep in his heart, I think he’s shamed by what his brother did.’

‘And so, why have you come to me?’

‘My father’s in sanctuary.’

‘You can still visit him.’

‘For how long?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Corbett replied quickly. ‘Tomorrow I will hold court in St Oswald’s church. I will summon all those involved in this matter and search out the truth. Is that not correct, Ranulf?’

Corbett was now alarmed by his manservant: he hadn’t touched his food or uttered one syllable but stared fixedly at Alicia. Usually, in the presence of a pretty young woman, Ranulf was all merry-eyed and quick-witted, ever ready to flirt. Now he sat like a moonstruck calf, though Alicia seemed not to notice.

‘I must return.’ She moved back the stool and rose.

‘I. . I will see you to your horse.’

Ranulf pushed his trauncher away and rose like a sleepwalker. He took the young woman’s arm and gently escorted her across the taproom and out to the stable yard. A groom led across a sorry-looking cob, the saddle across its back battered and worn. Ranulf made an angry gesture with his hand and grabbed the reins himself. He then helped Alicia up into the saddle.

‘You ride like a man?’ He found the question stilted and clumsy. He just wished this young woman would notice him and not ride away. She glanced down.

‘You must be Ranulf-atte-Newgate?’

‘Yes,’ he answered in a rush. ‘Senior clerk in the Chancery of the Green Wax.’

She smiled. ‘Do you always stare at women?’

Ranulf rubbed sweat-soaked hands on his jerkin.

‘I’ve never seen anyone like you before.’

Alicia laughed. ‘With two heads!’

‘No, you’ve only got one,’ Ranulf replied seriously. He grabbed the reins again and stared fiercely up at her. ‘Your father’s innocent,’ he said hoarsely. ‘He must be innocent.’ He caught the look of disquiet in her eyes. ‘No, no, you wait and see. Old Master Long Face in there, I mean Sir Hugh, he will discover the truth.’

‘Are you looking for a bribe?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Is that why you are here, Ranulf-atte-Newgate? Are you like the rest, your brains in your hose?’