Paul Doherty - The Demon Archer

Ranulf’s pen was now racing across the page, squeaking as he briefly summarised Corbett’s statement. Corbett pointed at Odo.

‘You discovered the corpse, didn’t you? You are a priest and, for all my suspicions, a man of tender heart. You dare not raise the hue and cry because people would ask what this anchorite was doing wandering around the forest. You could not bring it to Brother Cosmas, that might arouse suspicion. So you took it to St Hawisia’s priory. Your conscience clear, your duty discharged. I am correct, sir?’

Odo nodded.

‘The morning Lord Henry was killed,’ he replied, ‘I knew about the hunt. I went to see if I could do any mischief: loose an arrow, scare the game. I slipped and fell where the earth was soft.’ He shrugged. ‘I found the corpse. The rest is as you say. I later came to St Oswald’s to tell Brother Cosmas but I glimpsed Verlian’s daughter in the cemetery, so I went back to my cave.’

Corbett turned, swinging one leg over the bench, and called Verlian and his daughter over.

‘This is what I am going to do. Everyone shall stay where they are. Brother Cosmas here in St Oswald’s. You, Odo, can act the hermit until this business is resolved. However, you will take me to where the woman’s corpse was found.’

Odo agreed.

‘Master Verlian, I have one question for you,’ Corbett continued. ‘On the night before the hunt, Lord Henry and his guests moved to Beauclerc hunting lodge some distance from Savernake. Why was that?’

The verderer, now sitting on the altar steps, spread his hands.

‘That was the custom. Lord Henry always moved out of the manor. The dogs were brought there, the huntsmen and verderers given their instructions.’

‘And you were present?’

Verlian’s face paled.

‘I understand that Lord Henry became ill, pains in the stomach, that he had to vomit and spend some of the night on the jakes purging his bowels?’

‘He drank late,’ Verlian answered. ‘He and his brother. They opened flasks of wine. Lord Henry was always very proud of his wine.’

‘And that wine?’ Corbett asked. ‘It was brought from the manor?’

Verlian wiped the sheen of sweat off his upper lip.

‘Come,’ Corbett insisted. ‘You were chief huntsman. Your duty was to prepare the lodge, provide game, ensure it was cooked well for Lord Henry and his guests?’

‘I’m not sure what you are saying.’

‘And whose duty was it to serve the lords their wine? I mean, they were away from Ashdown, the usual servants and retainers would be left there.’

‘I did,’ Verlian cried, getting to his feet, rubbing his hands on the side of his robe. ‘I served the wine.’

‘And anything else?’ Corbett asked. ‘You are a forest man, Master Robert, you treat the dogs and horses. I wager you know as much about the plants and herbs as the woman Jocasta. Did you put something in the wine? Something to loosen Lord Henry’s bowels, keep his mind away from lechery? Or was it an act of revenge or even an attempt to poison him?’

Verlian refused to meet his gaze. Ranulf was gaping open-mouthed; he quietly vowed that, next time his master left the bedchamber early in the morning, he would follow him down. Corbett’s brain had proved as sharp as a razor.

‘Well, did you?’

‘I did.’ The chief huntsman waved his hand to silence his daughter. ‘It wasn’t poison, just a purgative. I saw him sitting there, face oiled, eyes mocking me. The rest of the guests had withdrawn. He asked for a special flask, one brought specially from Bordeaux. I opened the seal and sprinkled some powders in: not poison, Sir Hugh, but something to keep the humours of his belly busy and his mind free of lechery. You can’t act the rutting stag when your bowels are loose! Nothing stronger than any apothecary would recommend. He never suspected. I returned to my own house and came back later on. In the morning Lord Henry, who had a strong constitution, was better; he’d purged his stomach, the potion had done no real damage. We assembled in the yard ready for the hunt. I was fastening the straps of his boot and he gently tapped me. “How is the fair Alicia?” he mocked. “Nothing like a day’s hunting, is there, Robert, to stir the fires in the belly?”’ Verlian licked his lips. ‘I became frightened. I wondered if Fitzalan would leave the hunt so I went to warn Alicia but she had already left; the rest is as you say.’

‘And did Sir William drink of this?’

‘A little, though he mixed his wine with water. Lord Henry always made him act as cup man. He liked nothing better than to drink his brother under the table but Sir William had learned his lesson.’

Corbett got to his feet and picked up his cloak.

‘I’m finished here.’

As he swung the cloak around himself he watched Ranulf busily clear away his writing implements. He shook a little sand lightly over the parchment, then blew this off, rolled the parchment up and tied it with a piece of green ribbon. That and the quills, knife and pumice stone went back into the chancery bag.

‘We are on foot.’ Corbett smiled at Odo. ‘We left our horses at the Devil-in-the-Woods and the day has proved a fine one. Brother Cosmas, would you bring a mattock and hoe?’

The friar agreed and hurried off, the hermit following. Verlian went back into the sanctuary. Ranulf was shuffling his feet. Corbett decided not to be too harsh but walked down the nave, leaving the lovelorn man to make his own farewells. He went out and stood on the steps. The front of the church was now quiet and deserted. Sir William had taken his party, including the corpse, back to Ashdown Manor. Corbett stood and closed his eyes, listening to the birdsong. The fragrance of the forest, crushed grass, flowers and newly turned earth, assailed his senses. He wondered how Maeve was progressing at Leighton. Would she be safe? Was she well? He was always anxious that she would do too much but then he recalled that her uncle, Lord Morgan Ap Llewelyn, who had come as a house guest years ago and decided to stay, would shadow her everywhere, clucking like the busy old hen he was. He heard the door open and close behind him.

‘Are you well, Ranulf? And Mistress Alicia?’

Ranulf’s slightly flushed face told him everything. He opened his hand and Corbett espied the little locket he’d seen round Alicia’s neck.

‘A token of affection, eh, Ranulf?’

His manservant’s face became grave. ‘She thinks you are a very dangerous man, Sir Hugh.’

Corbett shook his head. ‘You’ve read St Augustine? He defines murder as the supreme chaos and that chaos, Ranulf, must be resolved by logic, evidence and the enforcement of royal justice.’ He tapped his clerk playfully on the side of the cheek. ‘And murder comes in many guises. For all we know, Ranulf, we may have spent the morning in the presence of a cruel assassin. Remember the proverb: “Of the two brothers Cain and Abel, Cain was the comeliest and smiled the most.”’

After some searching, the hermit found the place where he had crossed the trackway. It was now about noon; clouds were closing over the sun and the first cool winds of autumn were making themselves felt. Gold-brown leaves whirled in the wind, laying down a carpet across the rutted track. The forest was silent apart from the occasional call of the birds and the incessant cawing of the rooks. Corbett noticed how the trackway curved and bent.

‘A corner,’ he said. ‘The best place for an ambush, or so my lord of Surrey is always telling me.’

He and Ranulf followed the hermit and Brother Cosmas down the bank to the narrow grave from which Odo had dug the woman’s corpse. Corbett knelt down and, with gauntleted hands, pulled away the leaves and twigs which had amassed there. The soil was soft, easy to dig; it must have taken only a short while for the assassin to slip the corpse in and then hide it under a layer of muddy soil.