Paul Doherty - Spy in Chancery

The Earl paused to pour himself a cup of wine. 'There's more,' he continued. 'On our return from the embassy, the chancery bags and pouches were emptied. A large fragment of Philip's secret seal was found in the pouch used by Waterton. Which means,' Lancaster testily added, 'that Waterton must have received some secret message from Philip IV.' Lancaster pursed his lips.

'Of course, it may have been a mistake, it may have even been put there but,' Lancaster sighed, 'all the evidence points to Waterton.' The Earl jabbed a finger, dismissing further questions. 'Enough,' he snapped. 'You are to visit Waterton. He has already been arrested and committed to the Tower and,' Lancaster smiled maliciously, 'after that you are, at the King's express command, to return to France with Philip's envoys and see if you can find anything new.'

Corbett groaned at the thought of France but he had no choice in the matter. He nodded his reluctant agreement to the still smirking Earl who rose, patted Corbett on the shoulder and swirled his great cloak around his body.

'The French envoys are now awaiting us,' he said, 'We had better meet them.'

The Earl swept out of the room, Corbett following him down to the great council chamber. Lancaster sat on the throne in the centre of the dais, gesturing at Corbett to join him on his right; other members of the council took their seats as, amid the shrill bray of trumpets, the French entered the chamber led by Louis of Evreux, Philip IV's brother, resplendent in a blue ermine gown, a jewel-encrusted brooch swinging against his chest, glittering rubies, pearls and diamonds sparkling on his gloved hands. Evreux carried his head proudly as if it was something precious and unique, he sat on the chair opposite Lancaster, his entourage taking up position alongside him whilst the clerks and scribes from both sides arranged themselves round a side table.

Lancaster and Evreux began the meeting with the usual diplomatic platitudes; Evreux mourning the absence of Edward and smirking when Lancaster, flushed with anger, snapped back that trouble in Scotland prevented the King being present. The process of Gascony then began, both sides repeating their long lists of grievances. Corbett let the sonorous speeches slip by like water in a steam. He had glimpsed de Craon sitting on Louis Evreux's right. The French master spy had also seen him but avoided any direct giance so Corbett glared at him. Was de Craon surprised to see him? Corbett thought so but the Frenchman's face was impassive as he carefully listened to the list of grievances presented by the English. Corbett sighed and, not for the first time that day, thought about Maeve. Her face stayed in his mind like a sanctuary lamp flickering brightly against the darkness, whilst the memory of her soft blue eyes and long blond hair haunted the innermost reaches of his soul. He wished she was here amongst these grave, self-important men whose thoughts and words would, in a year, be mere dust.

Suddenly, he heard raised voices and broke from his reverie. Louis was taunting Lancaster, achieving considerable success for the Earl was virtually shouting in reply. Corbett felt the rising tension, even the scribes looked sideways, pens poised as they helplessly wondered what would happen next. Corbett glanced at de Craon and caught the sardonic gleam of triumph in the Frenchman's eyes; God, Corbett thought, they bait us here in the very Palace of Westminster. He remembered the attack outside Paris, the vibrant loveliness of Maeve and felt a terrible rage surge through him. Corbett whispered into Lancaster's ear, urging the Earl to say something to halt the constant taunts from the French.

'My Lord of Evreux!' Lancaster called out pulling himself free from Corbett, 'I must apologise for the tumult and discord on our side but this is due to special circumstances.' He looked around, evidently pleased at the way his words silenced the clamour in the hall. 'We have,' Lancaster bluntly continued, 'just ordered the arrest of a man close to our counsels, a veritable viper in our bosom, who gave our secrets to the King's enemies here and,' he added, pausing for effect, 'across the seas.'

His words were greeted by a hum of consternation from those English standing behind the French envoys. Corbett ignored them, closely studying the reactions of the French: Evreux did not seem disconcerted whilst de Craon continued to pick at a loose thread in the sleeve of his gown before turning to whisper to Count Louis. Corbett had set the trap, he now waited for the French to step into it.

'My Earl of Lancaster,' Evreux called out, 'We are pleased that our English cousin has been freed from such an irritation. We hope this viper is not involved in the negotiations with us for, if he has betrayed you, he could well have betrayed us.'

'Is that all, my Lord?' Corbett was surprised to hear himself speak. Evreux looked at him disdainfully.

'Of course,' he replied. 'What else is there?'

'What else?' Corbett thought to himself, ignoring Lancaster's curious glances and de Craon's hostile stare. He had sprung a trap upon the French, years ago in Scotland and now he had done it again. He was sure of it. He clenched his fists in excitement, not bothering to concentrate as the discussion reverted to more boring, desultory matters.

It was late afternoon before the process was completed and, as Lancaster later sardonically commented, there was a great deal of talking but little was said. The French believed there was a way to settle the dispute, saying it was a pity the English king was not present but, and here de Craon had looked meaningfully at Corbett, King Philip IV would personally explain to Edward's envoys his ideas for the resolution of all difficulties. The French then presented their sworn safe conducts for the English envoys who were to accompany them back to France. When Lancaster announced it was Corbett, de Craon smirked whilst Evreux looked offended as if he had expected someone of higher rank. The meeting broke up, Corbett patiently listening to Lancaster's angry exclamations before leaving for the Tower and his interview with Waterton.

A flimsy wherry boat took him up the crowded river past the docks, the steelyard, the galleys and ships pouring wealth into London and the pockets of its merchants: the light craft of the fishermen, petty traders, the scaffolds with the bodies of hanged pirates, their souls gone, fleeing through their blank eyes and yawning mouths. Around them, the living ignored this grim reminder of death in the pursuit of wealth; a spritely barge drifted by, its smart, black woodwork gilded and draped in costly cloths, pennants and banners which proclaimed its importance more loudly than a fanfare of trumpets.

The boatman guided his craft under the towering arches of London Bridge. The water roared and frothed as if in a giant cauldron, Corbett felt afraid but the boat shot through as straight and true as a well-aimed arrow. The turrets of the Tower loomed up above the trees: the great keep built by William the Norman now ringed and protected by walls, towers, gulleys and moat. A fortress to keep London quiet; the King's treasury and record office but also a place of darkness, terror and silent death. In its dungeons, the King's torturers and executioners searched for the truth or twisted it to suit their own ends.

Corbett shivered as he climbed up on to the Tower wharf; it was a calm, soft, golden evening but blighted by his mission to this place. He walked across the drawbridge and began his journey through a series of sombre gateways, places built for trapping and killing any attacker. He was stopped at every turn and corner by well-armed, hard-eyed young men who searched his person and examined scrupulously the warrants and letters he carried. One of these became his guide, a shadowy, mailed figure who led Corbett on, his head and face hidden by a steel conical helmet, he. marched in front, hand on sword, his great military cloak billowing out like the wings of a giant bat. They came out of the range of walls, many still covered with scaffolding ropes, as King Edward tried to strengthen the Tower's defences and on to a large grassy area which surrounded the great, soaring Norman keep.