Paul Doherty - Crown in Darkness

The Bishop pursed his lips, nodded and looked expectantly at Corbett. 'Father,' Corbett replied. 'I know canon law and I also know that it rests on the justice of God. I do not wish you to violate your oath of secrecy or your conscience but,' and he turned to look eagerly at the Bishop, 'with His Lordship's permission, I would like to take you aside and quietly ask you one question? If I am wrong, you may say nothing, and I vow I will not ask you again.' The Bishop turned to the Franciscan who swallowed nervously and nodded his assent. The Bishop looked at Corbett with raised eyebrows and gestured to him to proceed. Ranulf watched his master and the friar go over to the far side of the room. Corbett whispered a few words and the friar looked up sharply and nodded. 'Sic habes,' he said, quoting the Latin tag. 'You have it!' Corbett smiled and walked back to sit down on the stool while Father John bowed to Wishart and silently left the room.

The Bishop stared quizzically at Corbett. 'What was it he said to you?' he asked. 'For the time being, my Lord, I prefer to stay silent on the matter. But tell me, my Lord, the circumstances of Erceldoun's death?' The Bishop fumbled amongst the pieces of parchment which littered his table and, leaning over the table, threw one scroll into Corbett's lap. 'The Coroner's report. You may read it.' Corbett studied the scrawled report of Matthew Relston, Coroner, "taken in June 1286 on the body of Thomas Erceldoun found in the chancel of St. Giles Church on the evening of 26th June by parishioners of the said church. His body bore no sign of violence except for a weal around his neck. An investigation into the events leading up to his death revealed that Erceldoun had told people he was going down to St. Giles Church to meet a priest. Who the latter was is difficult to establish. The verdict is that Erceldoun was murdered by person or persons unknown".

Corbett handed the scroll back to the Bishop. 'That is all?' he asked. 'Yes,' replied Wishart. 'I doubt if he intended to meet a priest or that Erceldoun was murdered by one; he was a powerfully-built young soldier, I doubt very much if any priest, or even more than one, could get the advantage of such a man.' 'I would like to examine his corpse,' Corbett said. 'Impossible!' Wishart snapped. 'I must!' Corbett replied firmly. 'And not only his, but Seton's as well!' He heard Ranulf groan beside him. 'You, my Lord Bishop, can give permission. It could be done late at night with no dishonour for the men's relations or lack of respect.' 'It is essential, you say?' 'It is, my Lord. I also need the protection of Sir James Selkirk.' 'Against whom?' the Bishop barked. 'I don't know, my Lord, but the waters I am wading through are deep, murky and treacherous.' He looked straight into Wishart's hooded eyes. 'For all I know, it could be you that I must be wary of!' Wishart stared at Corbett and laughed as if Corbett had told some pleasantry. He then wrote, his quill pen scratching a piece of vellum. He finished, sanded what he had written, waxed and sealed it, then gave it to Corbett. 'Your warrant, English Clerk. Do what you have to do and do it quickly!' He looked at Selkirk. 'Tonight, you must carry out the business.' He nodded at Corbett. 'For the moment, farewell, but remember I will ask you to give an account of your stewardship here.'

Corbett stayed in the castle the rest of the day, wandering about, looking for any place he could sit and quietly meditate on all he knew. The picture forming in his mind was clearer, more distinct, though he could scarce believe it. Wandering aimlessly down one of the grim, draughty passageways of the castle, with Ranulf trailing behind him like some morose dog, Corbett almost bumped into Benstede and his strange body-servant, Aaron. 'Master Corbett!' Benstede exclaimed, his round, plump face wreathed in smiles. 'At last! I heard of your problems with Selkirk. Of course, I immediately protested to the Council. You have also been attacked, I hear?' Corbett nodded. 'At least twice, the last time on our way into Edinburgh. A member of Bishop Burnell's household was killed!' Benstede looked grimly around. 'The same is true of me. Two or three weeks ago, a crossbow quarrel narrowly missed my face as we crossed the Lawnmarket. I suspected de Craon. He has been plotting since his arrival in Scotland. He was constantly closeted with the late King. Even the day before the King died! I understood from the expression on his face when the meeting was over, that the encounter with the King was not a pleasant one.' Corbett shrugged. 'Then we must all be on our guard!' he commented. 'Is there news from England?' Benstede sighed. 'None. Burnell and his entourage are coming north. King Edward is still in France.' He squeezed Corbett's arm, 'Take care, Master Clerk,' and continued on his way, his servant padding behind him like some silent dark shadow.

Corbett watched them go and smiled to himself at what he had learnt. So, Burnell was coming north. Good! There was every chance that he and Ranulf would be ordered to leave Scotland to join him.

Late that evening, Corbett was found by a servant sent by Selkirk, who announced in broad Scots that the knight would be grateful if Corbett joined him in the outer bailey near the main gate. Corbett and Ranulf finished off the meagre scraps of food they had begged from the kitchen and hurried down. Selkirk and four soldiers, well-armed, carrying picks and shovels, were waiting rather selfconsciously near the main gate.

Corbett smiled. 'If you are ready, Sir James? The bodies are buried where?' 'The graveyard of St. Giles,' Sir James testily remarked, looking up into the night sky. 'There is a full moon, so we will not need torches. I have already discovered where the graves lie. So, come, let's be done with it!' They walked down into the town, now concealed by darkness, despite regulations that lantern horns were to be displayed outside each house. A curfew had been imposed, explained Selkirk, because of the situation following the King's death. Most law-abiding citizens obeyed it but not so the denizens of the slums, stinking alleys and runnels of Edinburgh. Time and again Corbett saw shadows flit across their path, heard movement in the darkness which fell quiet as they approached. In the main, they were alone, their boots ringing hollow on the hard enclosed tracks except for the scavenging cat and threatening rustle of rats gnawing in the heaps of refuse which littered every street. They entered the Lawnmarket and Corbett shivered when he saw the gibbet and its rotten, swaying human fruit, black figures against the moonlit, summer night sky. The huge mass of St. Giles rose above them. They entered the enclosure and walked down the side of the church into the dark, tree-filled cemetery beyond. Here, they stopped, the soldiers trying to hide their fear and Corbett sensed that even Sir James Selkirk was frightened to be there. The dead, Corbett thought, do not worry me, it is the living who plot and kill.

'You can take us to the graves, Sir James?' Selkirk nodded. 'It is strange,' continued Corbett, 'that Erceldoun is buried in the very church in which he was murdered!' Sir James disagreed. 'Both Erceldoun and Seton died in early summer,' he pointed out. 'Both men came from humble backgrounds, their kin could not afford to transport the bodies home, so they were brought here. Which grave do you wish to see first?' 'Erceldoun's,' snapped Corbett. Sir James led his group through a small wicket-gate and across the long, soft grass. The silence was oppressive as they made their way past mounds of earth, some with battered wooden crosses, others just forlorn heaps of clay. The rich could afford stone memorials, exquisitely carved, but the graves of the poor were not even properly dug, shallow holes which scarcely concealed their dead, left open to scavenging dogs and other creatures. Time and again, they came upon heaps of white shard-like bones or tripped cursing over a trailing white, skeletal arm or leg protruding from its thin veil of soil.