Paul Doherty - Crown in Darkness

Selkirk stiffened with anger and made to rise but Wishart waved a hand at him. 'Yes, Corbett, I am very interested in what you find. Sir James and the prison cell were simply a warning not to go too far, not to presume too much on our present weakness.' 'And the charge of murder?' Corbett asked quiedy. 'Oh,' the Bishop smiled. 'Thomas Erceldoun, the squire you so closely questioned on the night of our banquet. He was found garrotted in the church of St. Giles some seven days ago.' The Bishop stifled a yawn. 'He was a strong young man and I doubt if you could have murdered him. Anyway, we do know that on the day he was murdered you were some distance away from Edinburgh, but it was a good pretext to arrest and detain you should you attempt to complain to your masters in London!' Corbett sat and thought. Erceldoun was dead, that was significant, but he was too engrossed in what Wishart was saying to study the matter now. He was exhausted and wished to sleep. 'So,' he said wearily. 'What do you want from me?' 'Nothing yet,' Wishart replied. 'Except that I will not detain you in prison or expel you from Scodand, on one condition. You will tell me if you find it was murder and give me the name of the murderer. In return,' the Bishop straightened in his chair. 'I will give you every assistance. Sir James Selkirk,' he bowed at the knight beside Corbett, 'will assist you whenever you ask. What do you say, English Clerk?' Corbett tried to gather his wits. If he did not agree it would mean the end of his mission. If he accepted, then all it would mean was sharing some of his conclusions with Wishart. Corbett nodded. 'I accept your Lordship's offer but you must answer some questions first.' Wishart looked surprised but agreed. 'Certainly what questions?' 'You were at the Council meeting the night the King died?' Wishart nodded. 'Did you notice anything untoward? I do know the King's mood changed abruptly from one of moroseness to one of joy. Do you know why?' Wishart shook his head. 'No, I too noted the King's change in mood but dismissed it for King Alexander was an excitable, changeable man. The Council meeting was called for petty reasons. I believe Seton was responsible but your own Benstede can answer for that, he and Seton seemed close friends. All I remember is that the King and de Craon were talking excitedly together and that de Craon seemed pleased. The rest you must know.'

Corbett stared at Wishart. He wanted to get away to think clearly. He knew why Wishart had him imprisoned then brought him here cold and tired: he hoped to ensnare him. Corbett suddenly grasped that the Bishop, like others, really believed he was here for other reasons and hoped to trap him into an admission. If not, then keep him busy searching for the murderer of Alexander III. Well, Corbett shrugged, he would continue in his task and then return to England. The succession to the Scottish throne was not his concern. Yet, there were still questions. 'In the days before his death,' he asked, 'did the King do anything out of character?' Wishart thought for a while and shook his head. 'No,' he replied. 'He was morose, ill-tempered. He was preparing to send his confessor, a Franciscan, Father John, to Rome on a certain private, personal mission which he did not discuss with me or the Council.' Corbett detected the air of injured pride in this priest who liked to know everything. 'Was Father John sent?' 'No,' Wishart replied. 'In fact, just before the King left for Kinghorn, he instructed me to order Father John not to go but stay at the castle till he returned. That is all.' Corbett rubbed his eyes wearily, feigning to be more exhausted than he really was. 'My Lord,' he said weakly. 'I really must sleep.' 'You are welcome to stay here,' Wishart replied. 'No. No. I must return to the Abbey. I would appreciate the protection of Sir James. Unfortunate accidents can happen to the unwary traveller.' 'True! True!' the Bishop exclaimed. 'It is dangerous to be imprudent. Sir James, if you would?' Selkirk nodded his consent and Corbett hurriedly took his leave of the Bishop.

The journey back was a silent if an uneventful one. After waking the guestmaster by tolling the abbey gate bell, Corbett was greeted by an anxious Prior and a solicitous Ranulf. He refused to answer their questions but calmed their anxieties, dismissing Sir James as if he was a page-boy with a gentle tap on his cheek. During the next two days Corbett stayed in his cell, recuperating from the journey and forced imprisonment. He did not discuss his ordeal with Ranulf or the Prior, although he told them time and again that all was well and let them order his life, content to drift, think and reflect. He spent his time putting down on odd scraps of vellum his different thoughts on what he had learnt over the past few weeks. A pattern was emerging though it was vague and very ill-defined.

On the third evening after his return from the castle, he suddenly announced that he was going back to Kinghorn. Ranulf groaned in protest but Corbett, fully recovered, insisted that his servant pack and make the necessary preparations. He also instructed the two remaining messengers whom Burnell had sent with them, to accompany him fully-armed. He bought provisions from the abbey kitchen and informed the Prior that they would be away for at least two days. The Prior asked the reason for his journey. 'Confidentially,' said Corbett, 'I must see the Queen before she returns to France.' 'But she is enceinte!' the monk exclaimed. 'She cannot return!' 'If she was pregnant,' Corbett cryptically replied, 'she would not be allowed to leave.' The Prior simply shook his head in puzzlement and walked away.

Early the next morning, Corbett and his party left for Queensferry, fully armed. They encountered no opposition though Ranulf maintained that he had seen a rider watching them as they crossed the bridge at Dalmeny. Corbett heeded the warning, telling his companions to be most vigilant until they were across the Forth. They stabled their horses at the ferrymaster's house, paying for their fodder and keep until they returned. The ferrymaster was absent across the Forth so Corbett told his escort to rest; they opened their provisions, ate and drank and then lay on the sand-strewn grass, enjoying the warm noon sun and listening to the birds overhead and the constant chatter of the bees and crickets. Corbett fell into a light sleep and was awakened by Ranulf with the news that the ferrymaster had returned. Corbett went to meet him; at first the fellow refused to go, saying he was tired and wanted to rest. Corbett offered to double the usual fee and they were soon climbing into the skiff and making their way out across the Forth. The ferrymaster eyed Corbett's heavy purse and slyly asked if there was anything else Corbett wished to know. The clerk shook his head. 'Well,' the man replied between gasps as he heaved at the oars, 'there is something I can tell you.' 'What is it?' Corbett asked excitedly. The man grinned. 'Nothing is free, sir, and a man has to work to earn his money.' Corbett dug into his purse and brought out a few coins. 'Then let us see if you have earned it.' The man rested on his oars. 'The ferryman who drowned. The day before the King crossed, early in the morning, he took a Frenchman across the Forth.' 'Is that all?' Corbett asked disappointedly. The man shrugged. 'That is what his widow said,' he replied. 'I thought it was worth something!' Corbett tossed the coins into his lap and the man began rowing once more.

They landed at Inverkeithing and made their way up the cliffs, the summer sun warming their backs, past Aberdour onto Kinghorn Ness, Corbett showing them the place King Alexander III allegedly fell, before going down the path to the royal manor. They found the place in uproar: the courtyard was full of carts piled high with trunks, chests and bundles of clothing. Servants hurried around, to the shrieked orders of officials, and they had to tend to their own horses in the now emptying stables. Corbett told his companions to wait while he searched for the purveyor, Alexander. He found him in a corner of the hall, already half-drunk. He stared Wearily at Corbett, his slack mouth half-open. 'Whish, it is Corbett, the English clerk,' he muttered. 'Any more questions?' Corbett smiled tactfully and sat down opposite him. 'Yes,' he replied. 'As a matter of fact I have. Why all the commotion? What is happening?' 'Happening?' Alexander said. 'The Queen is leaving, that's what is happening. The French ships are at sea. They'll be at Leith in a matter of days and then she'll be gone.' He belched loudly. 'Good riddance, I say. Pregnant! She was no more pregnant than I am!' 'Then why did she claim to be?' Corbett enquired. The purveyor wiped his mouth with the dirty hem of his sleeve. 'I don't know. A woman's condition, I've heard it's happened before or,' he leaned across and slyly tapped the side of his pocked red nose, 'maybe it was the French! 'What do you mean?' Corbett snapped. 'Ah,' Alexander replied. 'Maybe the French told her to act pregnant and so lengthen her stay in Scotland!' 'Why should they want that?' Alexander stared at a point above Corbett's head. 'I don't know,' he muttered. 'It's just a thought. That's all!' Corbett paused. 'Tell me?' he asked. 'Did the French envoy arrive here that morning, the day the King died?' Alexander shook his head. 'Are you sure?' Corbett persisted. 'Sometime early in the day?' 'No,' Alexander answered emphatically. The only visitor was the messenger who arrived about that time and left a message that the King would be coming to Kinghorn later that day!' 'You are sure?' 'I am certain. The only visitor who came to Kinghorn was Benstede, who came the day before.' 'What did he want?' Corbett snapped. 'How should I know?' the purveyor crossly replied. 'He came with that strange quiet creature, stayed with the Queen for a while and then left.' 'Did the King come to Kinghorn frequently?' 'At first, yes, and he often summoned the Queen to meet him across the Forth, but in the weeks before he died, his visits became less frequent. A man of impetuous passion,' the purveyor drunkenly concluded. 'Is it possible for me to see the Queen now?' Corbett asked. Alexander shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'She will not see anybody today. Perhaps tomorrow,' he looked speculatively at Corbett. 'Perhaps, for a consideration, I might be able to arrange something.' Corbett slipped a silver coin across the table. 'I would be grateful for that.' He nodded at Alexander, rose and returned to Ranulf.