Paul Doherty - Spy in Chancery

De Craon shrugged. He knew he could not keep this English clerk if he wished to return. But de Craon was suspicious. Had Corbett discovered something? He wanted this English clerk to make a mistake, just one and so de Craon could revenge himself for previous insults inflicted by this insufferable Englishman. Nor had de Craon forgotten that Corbett was responsible for the recent death of one of his best agents. The Frenchman tried to clear the intoxicating fumes from his head as he concentrated on what he had said to Corbett since the Englishman had arrived in Paris. There was nothing. Nothing had been given away. De Craon rose.

'Your safe conducts will be ready tomorrow morning. О wish you a safe journey,' and, having said this, he spun on his heel and walked up to the high table to whisper softly in the ear of his royal master. Corbett did not bother to see if Philip objected but, half dragging Hervey and pushing Ranulf, left the hall for their chambers.

De Craon was true to his word, the warrants were ready, as was a small military escort hand-picked by de Craon himself.

Throughout their journey across the early autumn Norman countryside Corbett was careful to keep his thoughts to himself and continue to act as if he was the bearer of bad news. Ranulf and Hervey were delighted to be returning to England but Ranulf knew enough about his master's moods to remain silent and not try to vex him with idle chatter. The captain of the escort, a burly Breton, watched the English envoy carefully, being secretly instructed to do so by de Craon himself. De Craon believed that Corbett knew something but could not fathom what it was. However, throughout the journey, the clerk's sad demeanour and apparent agitation made the escort relax and at Boulogne the captain sent a courier back to de Craon with a verbal message that the English envoy continued to behave as if he dreaded the coming meeting with his royal master in England. They were put aboard a merchant cog bound for Dover and from there Corbett was able to secure horses to travel to London.

If his journey back had been quiet and uneventful, the subsequent interview with Edward of England was a stark contrast. Hervey and Ranulf were not allowed into the royal chamber but Corbett attended the meeting, grateful at least that the King had decided to have Edmund of Lancaster also present. Edward heard Corbett out, before bursting into one of his famous royal rages. Tables and stools were overturned, manuscripts thrown and rushes kicked as Edward stormed around the room calling Philip of France every filthy name Corbett knew and a few he did not.

'That man,' Edward roared, 'is a danger to Europe and threatens our very crown. He would like his own misbegotten grandson on my throne! He intends to build an empire which rivals Caesar's or even Charlemagne's, but he will not.' The King's rage lasted for an hour before he eventually calmed down.

He drank deeply from a wine bowl before crossing to Corbett and bringing both of his jewelled-bedecked hands slapping down on the clerk's shoulders. Corbett stared into his blue red-flecked eyes.

'Corbett,' the King rasped, 'You are the bearer of very bad news. I understand that in ancient times such a messenger would be promptly executed. I am almost tempted to carry that out myself. At other times and on other occasions I couldn't care what Philip intends to do for his blessed daughter but you know, Master Clerk, that any attempt we make to break free from the Pope's arbitration would be immediately reported to Philip by the spy or spies who now sit at our very council.' The King pushed his face close to Corbett, who stared back unflinchingly. 'You have come home,' the King said, 'not only bearing these bad tidings but with your guess, your reasonable deductions, that Waterton is not the spy.'

Corbett controlled the panic he felt and coolly stared back at the King.

'Your Grace,' he replied, 'I have always served you, your crown, your family. I went to France with careful instructions given to me by your brother,' he turned and nodded to where Lancaster slouched anxiously against a wall, 'I had no choice but to accept Philip's terms. It is one way you will have the duchy returned.'

'It is one way I get the duchy returned!' Edward mimicked, 'For God's sake, Corbett, don't you realise that as long as a spy is on our council any secret we discuss, any attempt to outmanoeuvre Philip, will be brought to nothing.'

Corbett cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. 'I cannot,' he began, grateful that the King had now removed his hands from his shoulders and walked back to sit on a chair. 'I cannot,' he repeated, 'allow Waterton to go to the scaffold. I believe he is a love-sick, rather stupid young man, but not a traitor. However, your Grace, before you pass judgement on me I do have other news but I must have your word that you do not challenge or question me.'

Edward accepted that with an airy wave of his hand. Corbett paused. 'I know who the traitor is!' he announced. Edward shot up in his chair as if struck by a blow while the look on Lancaster's face was one of pure astonishment.

'Who is he, Corbett?' the King asked quietly. 'Who is the misbeggoten cur?'

'I know,' Corbett replied coolly, 'but I cannot give you the name. You must give me time, your Grace. I need evidence and I know where to look.'

The King rose and walked slowly over to Corbett. 'I promise you, Hugh,' he said; 'that if you deliver this man, you may ask for anything in my kingdom and it will be yours. You have a week.'

Corbett bowed and left the chamber. Once the door had closed behind him he leaned against the cold brickwork as he tried to control the trembling of his own body while fervently hoping that he could keep his promise to the King.

The next day Corbett returned to the Palace of Westminster. Through Lancaster's intercession Water-ton was freed from the Tower, bathed, dressed, given a filling meal but kept under close guarded secrecy in a chamber in Westminster Palace well away from any prying eyes. Corbett visited him, placating the clerk's hostility by pointing out that it was he who had managed to secure his release. He questioned Waterton very carefully about the council meetings, the procedures, who was present and, above all, what happened after the council meetings ended. It took some time. Waterton, like any clerk, attempted to dismiss the minor matters but Corbett knew these very petty details would provide the evidence to arrest the traitor.

After much questioning, probing, even a heated row, Corbett managed to confirm the suspicions he had formed in France, so he asked the chief clerk of the Chancery for copies of all letters and records, sent to France, both to the royal court as well as to the hostages. Over the next few days Corbett studied these, hardly leaving the chamber except to drink, eat or relieve himself. It took some time but, eventually, he had the evidence he needed and Corbett immediately demanded an audience with the King.

At Corbett's request Edward agreed to meet him in one of the rose gardens behind the Palace of Westminster, a small enclosure, the walls of the palace rising up on every side. Corbett usually loved the place with the roses in full bloom in their raised flower beds interspersed with small patches of herbs which, when crushed, gave off a fragrant smell but the King took one look at Corbett's face and realised that the clerk was blind to his surroundings and Edward was too cunning to push or try such a man's patience. Corbett was unshaven, his eyes red from lack of sleep, his garments stained due to hasty meals and a lack of time to bathe or even change. Edward gestured him to sit on one of the walls of the raised flower bed and sat alongside, almost as if they were two old friends rather than a king and a faithful retainer. Corbett asked the King to remain silent while he went through all the evidence he had collected and Edward did so, head bowed, hands in his lap, he listened like a priest Hearing the confession of a man who had not been shriven for years.