Paul Doherty - Spy in Chancery

Philip IV ensured his scribes were seated behind him at a small table and began the usual courtly courtesies: Introductions and anxious enquiries about the health of his 'dear cousin, Edward of England.' Corbett looked sideways at Lancaster who found this all too much, nearly choking on his fury but the French king sitting rigid in his chair, his eyes staring at a point above the English envoys' heads, continued in a dry monotone. Philip IV, not even bothering to pause so Lancaster could answer, starkly presented the Gascon's situation as he saw it: he was overlord of the duchy, Edward may be king of England but, as Duke of Gascony, he was the French king's feudal subject: Edward's Gascon lords had attacked French property, the feudal bond was broken by Edward, therefore the duchy was forfeit to his overlord the French king. At this Lancaster could contain his anger no further.

'Your Grace,' he rudely interrupted. 'You may have good cause to seize the duchy but, by what right do you hold it?'

'Oh, that is quite simple,' de Craon silkily interjected, 'French troops are all over the duchy, so,' he spread his hands in an expansive gesture, 'we wait with bated breath for your reply.'

The English envoys had already discussed the strategies and tactics they should employ when they met the French and Lancaster, overcoming his dislike of Corbett, had asked him to intervene when he thought fit. Corbett now believed it was opportune.

'Your Grace,' he replied quickly before Lancaster made further rash remarks, 'does that mean that our two countries are at war? In which case,' he extended his hand in mimicry of de Craon, 'our meeting is over and we beg to withdraw.'

'Monsieur Corbett,' the French king's face flickered in a smile, 'you have it wrong, de Craon was only describing the situation as it is, rather than what it should be.' The English eagerly seized on the phrase 'should be' and a long protracted discussion took place on future negotiations. Corbett sat, detached and objective, aware that both de Craon and his master, Philip IV, were quietly studying him. The phrases 'allodial', 'fief, 'feudal rights and suzerainty' were bantered like feathers round the room and Corbett believed the French intended to hold on to the duchy for as long as possible. Yet, both he and Lancaster, who communicated with him in hushed whispers, also came to the conclusion that the French were not just playing for time, their seizure of Gascony being only part of a greater game.

The arguments swept back and forth across the table until both sides agreed to continue the debate at some future date. However, there were other points to raise and Lancaster came rudely to the point.

'Your Grace,' he said brusquely, 'The English agent in Paris, Simon Fauvel, has disappeared.'

'Not disappeared,' de Craon sardonically observed. 'Monsieur Fauvel, I regret to say, is dead. He was killed, probably by one of the beggar bands who roam the streets.' His words shocked the English into angry murmurs of protest.

'This is unacceptable!' Lancaster retorted. 'We are' attacked outside Paris, the English king's agent is murdered in the city! Is the French king's writ so worthless that the sanctity of protected envoys can be so easily violated?'

'Monsieur Lancaster!' Philip exclaimed, 'Look at the facts, our envoys have been attacked in England: the assault outside Paris was most regrettable and you have our apologies and our assurances that the City Provost is searching high and low for the culprits. As for Monsieur Fauvel,' he added crisply, it would appear that your agent ignored our advice. He was out alone, at night, and contrary to our ordinances, walking the streets after curfew. Of course we regret these incidents, but there are only two, are there not?' Lancaster saw the trap and neatly avoided it. Philip was baiting them, hoping they would make some reference to the attack on the Saint Christopher and the death of Nicholas Poer. Corbett knew that if Lancaster raised these issues, he would have to explain the secret work both the Saint Christopher and Poer were involved in. Philip IV, however, was unwilling to leave the matter.

'Your master, our sweet cousin,' he commented, 'is going through unsettled times. In his letters to me he makes veiled references to treason and traitors around him.' Philip spread his hands slowly. 'But what can we do?' The English envoys, Corbett included, were too surprised to answer such an insult, so Lancaster rose, bowed and beckoned at his colleagues to withdraw.

The meeting afterwards was brief but sombre, Lancaster neatly summarising the English position: Philip would hold onto Gascony as long as possible and only hand it back on terms fully advantageous to the French. Philip IV also believed he had the upper hand (the rest bitterly agreed with this) and intended to develop a great design or plan against Edward. The most worrying item, however, was Philip's open baiting with his insinuations that he knew there was a traitor at the heart of Edward's council, Fauvel's death and the attack on the Beauvais road only rubbing salt into an open wound. Lancaster's colleagues reacted predictably; Richmond flustered, Eastry coolly observed they had done all they could and should leave while Waterton remained silent, seemingly anxious to be away. At last Lancaster dismissed them but asked Corbett to stay. The Earl closed the chamber door and came swiftly to the point.

'I do not like you, Corbett,' he observed, 'you are secretive, too withdrawn. You have no experience of diplomacy yet my august brother has sent you here and evidently trusts you, more,' Lancaster bitterly added, 'more than he does me!' Corbett just stared back so the Earl continued, 'I suggest you were sent, Master Clerk, to search out this traitor, and may I suggest, you should begin.'

'If I did,' Corbett replied sarcastically. 'Where would you suggest I start?'

'Well,' the Earl tartly observed. 'You could continue to watch us as I, Master Corbett, will continue to watch you!'

'And secondly?'

'Discover who killed Poer and Fauvel!' Corbett would have liked the Earl to inform him how he was supposed to achieve this but the Earl turned his back, a sign that the interview was over.

So now, Corbett, accompanied by an ever-garrulous Ranulf, paced the streets, alleys and runnels of Paris. They had been given some information regarding Poer and Fauvel. About the former it was very sparse: a brief description of the man, the tavern he usually frequented and, after a series of searching, endless questioning and strange glances at his foreign accent, Corbett had finally discovered the tavern Poer had last been seen in. Not that the discovery led to much, the squat, ugly inkeeper had morosely described a man matching Poer's description who had drank and ate there on that particular evening: no, he was alone: no, he left by himself, no one followed him and the only person who had left around the same time was a crippled beggar. Corbett had tried to press the matter further but the fellow just scowled, turned away and spat.

Corbett had then decided to visit the lodgings of the dead Fauvel. He and Ranulf shouldered their way through the crowds who lined the Seine, waiting for the barges bringing produce in from the outlying farms. They crossed one of the great stone bridges spanning the Seine and walked along the alleys which twisted and turned behind the carved stonework of Notre Dame Cathedral. Ranulf pestered Corbett with questions only to lapse into a sullen silence when his master just refused to answer. Eventually, they found the rue Nesle, a narrow alley with a deep swill-edged sewer running down its middle. The houses of black timber and dirty white plaster crowded together and rose three or four storeys high, each storey leaning over the one below. The windows were wooden shutters with the occasional one of horn and, more rarely, painted glass. Corbett found the building he was looking for and knocked on the stained door. There was a clattering inside, the door swung open and an arrogant, middle-aged woman dressed in an overblown fustian pouted at the English clerk.