Paul Doherty: The Demon Archer

‘So incensed am I by these malicious rumours,’ Edward continued, thoroughly enjoying himself, ‘that I intend to write to the Holy Father and, indeed, all the crowned heads of Europe, to refute them.’

De Craon spluttered on his wine. Edward sprang to his feet, pushed the cup away and patted him hard on the back.

‘It’s a good, strong claret,’ he said. ‘The best MY,’ Edward emphasised the word, ‘MY duchy of Gascony can produce.’

‘There is no need to do that.’ De Craon coughed. ‘Please, sire, there is no need for that. By writing such letters the rumours would only spread.’

‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that!’ Edward admitted, retaking his seat. ‘But they are terrible lies. I mean, if the King of France married a Flemish princess or tried to control the Order of the Templars which has houses, lands and treasure throughout all of Europe, England and its allies would regard that as an act of war. The peace treaty would be rescinded and there would be no marriage between my boy and the Princess Isabella.’

‘Your Majesty jumps too far too soon!’

‘You do not wish me to write such a letter? You want me to keep the matter secret and confidential?’

‘Of course, sire. But, if you could tell us the source of such slander?’

‘I will in due time.’ Edward sat up straight in the chair. ‘But there are a few,’ he waved a hand, ‘a few anomalies about this betrothal treaty.’

‘Your Majesty?’

‘I want the dowry to be doubled: six hundred thousand pounds sterling.’

De Craon blanched. ‘I think that’s possible, in the circumstances,’ he stammered.

‘Good! I want my sweet brother’s assurance that all aid and sustenance to the rebels in Scotland will cease forthwith.’

‘Agreed!’

‘I want my sweet brother’s confirmation that the duchy of Gascony and the city of Bordeaux are recognised as belonging to the English crown.’

‘Agreed!’

Edward spread his hands. ‘Then we are in harmony?’

‘Nothing else?’ de Craon asked suspiciously.

Edward pursed his lips and shook his head.

‘My master the King of France will agree to these, but what assurances do we have that this malicious gossip will not be spread?’

‘I sent Hugh Corbett to Ashdown,’ Edward replied. ‘He knows about these rumours. He is sworn to secrecy. However, you’ve met Lady Madeleine Fitzalan?’

‘Half-sister to Lord Henry and prioress at St Hawisia’s?’

‘The same.’

‘An arrogant woman,’ de Craon said. ‘I heard rumours. .’

‘Such rumours are correct, Seigneur Amaury. Lady Madeleine is a threat to the amity of both our kingdoms. She learned this malicious gossip from Cantrone and told it to her brother. Only she has the details.’ Edward waved a hand. ‘The time, the places, et cetera, et cetera. She refused to tell Sir Hugh very much. We think she is the root and cause of it all and provided details to her brother. Of course,’ Edward smiled, ‘she is now the only surviving member of that unholy trinity! I believe Fitzalan’s murder, and that of Cantrone, were over this malicious story and who should profit from it!’

‘Thieves falling out?’

‘Precisely, de Craon.’

‘So what shall we do, sire?’

Edward caught the word ‘we’ and smiled.

‘Yes, Amaury, what shall WE do?’ He lifted his hand. ‘Before you leave for Dover, I will take an oath on what I have said today.’

‘On a book of the Gospels?’ de Craon asked.

‘On a book of the Gospels,’ Edward confirmed. He picked up the cup, then remembered de Craon spluttering in it so he put it back on the table. ‘This evening, Amaury, you can lodge here and you must attend the banquet tonight. I have a special choir. I’ve taught them a beautiful hymn. We’ll have good roast beef and pledge eternal amity.’

‘Lady Madeleine Fitzalan?’ Amaury insisted.

‘Oh yes, you will write to me, offering me your condolences on the death of her brother and requesting. .’

De Craon’s face split into a smile.

‘That Lady Madeleine Fitzalan accompany us to France so my master can console her personally?’

‘Amaury! Amaury!’ Edward stretched forward, clasped de Craon’s hand and squeezed it viciously. ‘I love our little talks.’

‘A journey across the Narrow Seas,’ de Craon mused as he nursed his bruised fingers, ‘can be fraught with dangers.’

‘If anything happened to Lady Madeleine,’ the King replied, ‘I would not hold you or your master accountable.’

De Craon bowed. ‘In which case, Your Majesty.’

He scraped back his chair and got to his feet. Edward did likewise, came round and grasped de Craon in a bear-like hug. They exchanged the kiss of peace. The French envoy, gratified, responded but stiffened as the King’s embrace became vice-like.

‘But Corbett,’ Edward whispered in the Frenchman’s ear, ‘Corbett I regard as my brother. If anything should happen to him and I can lay it at your door or that of your master in Paris, God be my witness, dear Amaury, you will be able to measure your life span in a few heartbeats!’

Edward released the envoy and stood back.

‘We have an understanding, Seigneur de Craon?’

De Craon gave the most ostentatious bow.

‘In the pursuit of a common peace, sire, I and my master understand you completely!’