Paul Doherty - Spy in Chancery

Corbett talked quietly but remorselessly, building up a picture of what had happened to Edward's army in Gascony and tracing all the developments since. The loss of English spies in Paris, the destruction of the ship St. Christopher, his own adventures there, his suspicions and why he had eventually decided that this particular person was the traitor. He produced evidence, sheet after sheet of vellum with carefully written conclusions which Edward studied. When Corbett finally finished, the King, head in hands, could hardly believe it.

Corbett watched him nervously. Edward was a strange man, on the one hand, hard, ruthless, he would without any compunction, order men, women and even children to be slain in a town which had resisted him. On the other, he was almost like a child, if he trusted someone he expected that trust to be returned and could never understand why people broke their word. The person Corbett named had not only broken the oath of fealty and loyalty but friendship and trust as well.

Edward asked one question. 'Are you certain, Corbett?' and the clerk answered it with his own.

'Are you sure, your Grace?'

The King nodded. 'I am,' he replied quietly. 'He is undoubtedly a traitor. Any court in Christendom would accept the evidence you have offered and sent him immediately to the scaffold. If it is to be done,' a note of hardness crept into the King's voice, 'then it had best be done quickly.' He called out and a retainer appeared at a small doorway which led into the palace. He came across to the King who whispered a few instructions into the man's ear. The man looked starded, but Edward repeated them fiercely. The retainer nodded and walked quickly away.

While they waited the King just sat staring moodily into the distance as Corbett, for the final time, went over in his own mind the evidence he had acquired. The King was right, the man was a traitor and deserved to die but he still dreaded the coming meeting. Sir Thomas Tuberville stepped into the garden and the King beckoned him over to sit on the wall opposite him.

'Sir Thomas,' the King began, 'You are to arrrest the traitor.'

Tubervilie looked surprised. 'I thought we already had, your Grace. Waterton, the clerk, he is in the Tower.'

'No! No!' the King answered. 'Waterton has been released. He is no more a traitor than Corbett here.'

'Then who?'

Corbett watched Tuberville's eyes narrow and the colour leave his face. Edward simply stretched out his hand and tapped Tuberviile gently on the leg.

'You know who, Sir Thomas. Yourself! You are the traitor!'

Tubervilie immediately sprang to his feet, his hand flying to the sword which hung from his belt.

'Sir Thomas,' the King said, 'Do not do that. If you look up at the windows surrounding the garden you will notice that there are royal crossbow men placed at every one. They have orders to shoot you, not to kill you, but wound you in the arm or leg and I promise you that will only be the beginning of your agonies.'

Tubervilie looked up and so did Corbett. The King was right. At every window, at every opening, they could see the glimpse of metal and a dash of colour, each representing a trained crossbow man, their evil weapons aiming directly down at Tuberville.

Tuberville slouched back on the wall and Corbett almost felt sorry for him. A sheen of sweat had appeared on the man's pale face and the knight was doing his best to stop his body from trembling.

'You have no evidence!' he said hoarsely. 'I served you, your Grace, well in Gascony. You know that.'

'We have every proof,' the King replied. 'Corbett has collected it.'

The clerk flinched at the look of pure hatred which Tuberville sent him.

'I knew you were a dangerous man, Corbett,' he rasped. 'But not this dangerous. If you think I am the traitor, then you must have the evidence, so why not tell me?'

'It's quite simple,' Corbett replied. 'I don't know why you became a traitor, Sir Thomas, but I know how. After you returned from Gascony you made a secret pact with Philip and the French court to supply information to them. The French knew that you were a knight of the royal household and were privy to secrets. They probably increased their demands when they knew that you were appointed to the post of the captain of the guard which protected the royal council chamber.'

'Exactly!' Tuberville exclaimed triumphantly. 'I was to guard the chamber, not be in it and listen to the King and his councillors discuss secret matters!'

'Ah,' Corbett answered, 'but when the council was over, Sir Thomas, it was you who tidied the council room up. Scraps of paper, memoranda, you even helped Waterton file and put them away and, of course, Waterton, with other things on his mind, was only too willing to allow you to finish these matters while he escaped from the palace and the possible enmity of the Earl of Richmond. Because,' Corbett continued remorselessly, 'you knew Waterton's secret. You became friends. He told you about his love for the Earl's daughter and the Earl's hostility towards him. You offered to protect him. When a council meeting was over and the minutes had been written and redrafted, it was Waterton's duty to write them out fully. You made sure that you were always there. After all,' Corbett remarked, 'why should Waterton be suspicious? In Gascony you had proved yourself to be one of the King's most able commanders, the only man who had attempted to break out of the French trap. You had a lot in common, a mutual hatred of Richmond which opened the door to royal secrets. Waterton did commit a crime but it was one of carelessness not malice.'

Corbett watched Tuberville's face and saw the tension in the man's eyes prove that he was correct.

'Tell him, Corbett,' the King began, 'Tell him how he sent the information to France.'

'Shall о tell you, Sir Thomas?' Corbett said, suddenly hating this man who had sent his friends and other Englishmen to cruel, unexpected deaths. 'You used your sons, the letters you wrote to them. They were cleverly written. They bore messages for your new French masters. When П visited your children in Paris they commented on how sometimes they could not understand the references you were making. I thought this when I first saw them. Full of strange comments, places and names, but there again, at the time, I thought this was simply a result of grief. However, de Craon proved that your letters were not a simple collection of pieces of advice and news. First, he seemed to remember the content of your letters very well. Rather strange, one of Philip's principal ministers should remember details of a letter an English knight had written some months ago to one of his young children in France.' Corbett paused and licked his lips, but hurried on before Tuberville could interrupt. 'So, when I came back to England, I studied one of your letters.' Corbett dug into his pouch and brought out a small piece of parchment. 'One sentence reads "the ship which sails from Bordeaux bringing me home to England from you". The next sentence begins "On October fourteenth I intend to go back to the Welsh march." The third sentence begins "The Saint Christopher which I have given you".' Corbett pauses and throws a look at Tuberville, whose face was now white with terror. 'And, finally, the next sentence begins "A dangerous occasion might arise".'

Corbett thrusts the piece of parchment into Tuber-ville's hands. 'The sentences are quite erratic,' the clerk continued. 'They give jumbled pieces of information. However, take the opening, words of each sentence and you suddenly have your message to the French: that the ship called Saint Christopher is leaving Bordeaux on fourteenth October and because of that a dangerous occasion might arise. De Craon is not the most intelligent of men but the message was quite simple. The Saint Christopher was carrying messages to our King which might prove dangerous to the French. You passed this information on and the Saint Christopher was stopped and sunk with a loss of all hands. The King lost a ship as well as valuable information about his enemies abroad.'