Paul Doherty: Crown in Darkness

Corbett leaned forward and described what he had seen. The Prior questioned him closely and Corbett answered as accurately as he could. The Prior stopped speaking, thought and offered his conclusion. Corbett smiled slowly, the last stone was in place, the picture was complete and, in his mind's eye, he saw full and clear the face of the murderer of Erceldoun, Seton, the young man in his own retinue, the boatman and, above all, the regicide, the slayer of the Lord's anointed, King Alexander III of Scotland. Corbett asked the Prior one last favour, one more task, the monk agreed and slipped quietly out of the room.

Corbett was at the dawn Mass the next day. He knelt and watched the priest offer the white body of Christ, the host and chalice lifted high, asking the Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world. Corbett took the sacrament, wishing to draw on its strength to combat the evil he would encounter that day. After Mass, he sent a last envoy south with a verbal message to be delivered to no one except the Chancellor of England, Robert Burnell, Bishop of Bath and Wells. The Chancellor, Corbett insisted, would be at Tynemouth Priory. If he was not, then the messenger was to wait until he arrived. Corbett then gave certain instructions to the Prior and Selkirk's armed escort, still on guard outside the abbey gates, and went back to his small cell.

Just before noon he heard voices in the passageway outside, leather boots rapping on the paved stones. There was a knock and Benstede walked in, smiling affably as he patted Corbett on the shoulder and stared around the bleak cell. 'Well,' Benstede said as soon as he had settled himself comfortably. 'You asked to see me?' Corbett nodded. 'I have found out who murdered King Alexander III, and how, but not the reason why.' For the first time since he had met him, Corbett saw genuine fear and shock in Benstede's face. The colour drained from his cheeks, the eyes lost their quizzical humorous look, his mouth sagged open. 'Who is it?' he whispered hoarsely. 'Why, Master Benstede,' Corbett replied. 'You know who it is. You are the murderer of Alexander III!' For a long while Benstede just sat and stared at Corbett. 'You cannot possibly…' he began and then gulped. 'You have no proof. You are simply putting the blame on me, when it should be laid at the door of de Craon and his group of assassins.' Corbett watched Benstede's hand edge closer to the knife he kept in his belt. 'Master Benstede!' he snapped. 'I suggest that you keep your hand well away from your dagger and attempt no violence, cry out or try to summon assistance from that evil shadow who goes everywhere with you. He is probably as guilty as you are of at least four murders in Scotland. Yes,' Corbett continued. 'You are correct on a number of matters. The proof I have is tenuous and even if I caught you red-handed, I doubt if any Scottish court would dare try you. I am simply telling you because I believe I should, justice demands it. It is also in your interest to sit and listen quietly to what I am going to say.' Corbett rose and walked about the cell as he talked. 'In 1278,' he began, 'Alexander III attended the coronation of our Sovereign Lord, King Edward of England. He was asked to pay homage for his lands in England, to which he quickly agreed but stoutly refused to perform fealty for the realm of Scotland, claiming he held that direct of God. Our Master the King has, in the last fourteen years, developed the vision of his rule, the like of which has never been seen in this country since the days of the Roman Empire. He lays claim to vast lands in France. He has conquered Wales, crushed opposition at home, has designs on Ireland and, as he proved at his coronation, has similar plans for the kingdom of Scotland. I am not saying,' Corbett added hastily, 'that our Sovereign Lord was involved in, or even ordered, the death of King Alexander, but you, Master Benstede, are his faithful servant. You know his mind, his secret desires and wishes,' Corbett said. 'You are very similar to the knights who murdered Thomas а Becket at Canterbury. They did that of their own accord. Henry Angevin did not order them but Becket's death was the secret desire of his sou!.' Corbett paused to gulp some wine before continuing. 'I believe Edward sent you to Scotland to see what you could accomplish in advancing his claims. After all, Alexander's heirs were all dead, his English wife was ten years in her grave and the King himself was advancing in years. If Alexander died without an heir then it would certainly give our King the necessary room to manoeuvre. However, Alexander changed all this. He began secret negotiations with the French and then compounded his sin by marrying a young French princess. For Edward this was serious: Alexander was married. He could well live a good score years and beget healthy sons to succeed him. Moreover, these sons would be half French and for the first time ever the Capetian monarchy would have client kings on Edward's own doorstep. I suspect that Alexander hoped for closer ties with France and these were the subject of his long detailed and secret discussions with de Craon. So you decided to act. Alexander was notorious for the complete disregard he had of his own life and limb, charging around Scotland in all weathers and despite all hazards. It would be easy for an accident to befall such a monarch, especially as he was a king who, after a long and successful reign, had little reason to fear enemies and so his escort was often no more than two men. Then, I suppose, you were given an opportunity. The Princess Yolande would not agree to consummating her marriage to Alexander. For what reason, neither you nor I really know, but the young princess's refusal provided you with a plan. You probably asked Seton to persuade the King to convoke the Council late in the afternoon of March 18th. The reason for the Council was petty enough, the imprisonment of a Scottish baron in England. Alexander was probably bored and only too willing to hold a meeting which might free one of his subjects, especially as the discussion was suggested by no less a person than Edward's envoy in Scotland. At the Council meeting you took Alexander aside with the important news that Queen Yolande urgently wanted to see him that night, sent her excuses for her recent bad behaviour and urged the king to join her the same day at Kinghorn.' Benstede snorted with laughter. 'But that is ridiculous,' he interjected. 'I would be the last person Queen Yolande would confide in.' 'Yes, I agree,' answered Corbett. 'But you did visit her the day before the Council meeting. You probably extended diplomatic courtesies. The Queen would say something which you later enhanced into a loving, intimate invitation. If your plan went awry you could always claim that it was the Queen who had misinformed you and so exacerbate Alexander's rage and frustration against her. You see, I know from the King's own confessor, Father John, that Alexander was so tired of his Queen's petulant protests and refusals that he was considering sending this confessor to Rome to ask the Pope for an annulment of his marriage on the grounds of non-consummation and permission to marry again, this time another French princess who might be more accommodating. You may have even known of this. I suspect you did and so time was of the essence. You gave the invitation to the King, asked him to keep the matter private and urged him to leave the Council as soon as possible for Kinghorn Ness. Meanwhile you had already left, accompanied by that misbegotten servant of yours. You travelled to Queensferry but did not ask the ferryman to take you across the Forth. You asked the other man, the one you had deceived into believing you were French. He rowed you across in the storm, landed you at a secret place where you had horses already tethered and you rode through the night to the top of Kinghorn Ness. There, just where the plateau dips towards the beach, you fastened a rope and took your place across the path in some bushes. It must have been a long, cold and wet wait but eventually the King appeared.' 'This is nonsense!' interrupted Benstede. 'How was I to know that the King would come without an escort? How was I to see him in the dark? How could I distinguish him from any of his retinue?' 'Oh, that was quite simple,' replied Corbett. 'It would be dark on any March night on the top of Kinghorn Ness, that a violent storm was raging was an added advantage. As for the King's escort? You knew only too well Alexander's habits and ways. At the very utmost he would take two or even three men with him. One squire did actually pass the place, Patrick Seton, but his horse did not stumble across your trap because the rope lay slack upon the ground. When the King appeared, riding at breakneck speed, you or your servant, Aaron, jerked the rope up. The horse, galloping so quickly, simply stumbled and fell over the edge of the precipice taking the King with him.' Corbett took a deep breath and peered out of the cell's one and only narrow slit window. 'Of course,' Corbett continued, 'it would be easy for you to see the King. He was riding through the black night but his horse was white. You made sure that the horse the purveyor brought to the port of Inverkeithing was light-coloured.' 'And how did I manage that?' Benstede mocked. 'I have no authority to issue orders to members of King Alexander's household.' 'Oh, you are right,' Corbett retorted. 'But you used the other ferryman, Taggart, to take you across the Forth. He thought you were a Frenchman and you used this disguise to make preparations on the other side of the Firth. On the morning of the 18th March I know that Taggart took you, still posing as a Frenchman, across to Kinghorn, but no Frenchman arrived at the manor. Instead an anonymous courier delivered a message saying the King was preparing to come there and the purveyor was instructed to bring down the King's favourite white mare, Tamesin, to Inverkeithing.' 'But the letter!' Benstede interrupted. 'I could not forge that.' His voice trailed off as he realised his mistake. 'I never said anything about a letter,' Corbett quickly replied, 'but, yes, a letter was sent, a forgery, no real feat for a trained clerk. I suspect you or Aaron delivered it at the royal manor gate. Anyway,' Corbett continued, 'you ensured the white mare, Tamesin, was brought down. On such a mount the King would be an easy target against the dark sky. Once the King had fallen, you' unfastened the rope and slipped back to where your ferry was waiting for you. Taggart then rowed you back and, once his task was finished, you murdered him, the two of you together holding his head beneath the water until he drowned. After which, you beached and tied up his craft to look as if he had never left in the first place, and returned to Edinburgh. In the consequent confusion which broke out the following morning no one would notice your comings and goings.' Corbett noticed that Benstede was nervously biting his lower lip. 'There was no reason,' Corbett continued, 'for anyone to suspect you. You were probably elated at the news that Erceldoun had got lost in the storm but became alarmed when Seton began to mumble about shadows on Kinghorn Ness. Perhaps the young man had seen something? Perhaps he might recover and start asking questions or making statements? So you murdered him!' 'How,' Benstede almost shouted. 'How could I murder him? He never left his room! There was no mark of violence found upon his corpse!' 'You sent him presents,' replied Corbett, 'apples and a pair of gloves.' 'You are not saying that the food was poisoned, are you?' Benstede jibed. 'I know,' Corbett replied, 'the fruit was wholesome. Erceldoun probably ate more of the apples than Seton ever did. It was the gloves which were poisoned. You sent them as a gift but you are a doctor, Master Benstede. You told me so yourself. You know about herbs, poisons and their antidotes from your studies at Salerno in Italy. You simply had the gloves coated with a deadly poison, and waited for Seton to wear them.' 'A sick man!' screeched Benstede. 'Wearing gloves!' 'A bored, ill man,' replied Corbett. 'He would at least try them on. Handle them. You or your servant, Aaron, would have made sure of that when you visited him.' 'So where are these gloves?' jibed Benstede. 'Oh, you made sure they disappeared,' Corbett replied. 'I looked at the list of goods and chattels belonging to Seton. There was no mention of any gloves. I am sure you had them removed. The rest is quite simple,' Corbett continued. 'The poison was transferred to Seton's fingers and, when he ate, the poison acted quickly. You are right to say that poison leaves little trace upon a body but it does halt the corruption of the corpse and I noticed this when I opened Seton's tomb in St. Giles' graveyard. Of course,' Corbett said emphatically, 'you wanted to remove any interference in your plan and that included me. When I arrived in Edinburgh you immediately became suspicious, so you showed me the draft of your letter to King Edward. You wanted to find out if the King had sent me, that is why you told him about me. If I had objected to such an innocuous statement then you would have had immediate satisfaction. Even so, the King would be curious and puzzled and probably order Burnell to recall me. As matters stand, I suspect the Chancellor has intercepted your letter and, if Edward ever gets to know that I am in Scotland, Burnell will fabricate some acceptable and reasonable explanation. Naturally,' Corbett added, 'you were alarmed at my interest in Alexander's death, so you brought along that old fool of a royal physician, MacAirth. He had examined the royal corpse and found nothing amiss. You thought he would calm all my anxieties. Of course he did not. The old fool, carried away by his own arrogance and a skinful of wine, babbled on and left me more curious. Even so, before this happened, you had already decided I was too dangerous. The night the Council held a banquet in the main hall of the castle, you, or Aaron, used the fight which broke out there as a cover to assassinate me. You have never taken a drug, I suspect, and neither have I, Master Benstede, until I arrived in Scotland.' Corbett looked at Benstede's pasty face but continued remorselessly. 'I was given a drug miles away from here but in a place you might feel at home in. Under its influence, I remembered standing by the pillar at that banquet and seeing Aaron glaring at me through the crowd, I now know he tried to kill me and when you saw me talking to Erceldoun, you decided he would have to die as well. Just as you tried to kill me on four occasions.' 'That is preposterous!' broke in Benstede. 'Erceldoun was a soldier. He was strangled, garrotted in St. Giles Church! No one would suspect me of having the strength to kill such a man, even if you imply that Aaron was my accomplice!' 'Oh, you are right,' Corbett smilingly replied. 'The coroner's report stated that Erceldoun was going down to St. Giles to see a priest. You are that priest, Master Benstede. A good friend of the late Patrick Seton, Erceldoun would not expect to meet his death at your hands. That wretched man entered the church of St. Giles and you were awaiting him at the entrance to the chancel. You possibly suggested that you wished to talk to him about the events on Kinghorn Ness? Perhaps a prayer for the late King or for the unfortunate Patrick Seton? Erceldoun would kneel, close his eyes, you would begin to pray aloud while you slipped the garrotte round his neck. It would not take you long. When I opened his grave I inspected the weal round his neck and saw the indentations caused by the very cord you now wear round your waist!' Benstede looked down in surprise and nervously fingered the knotted, tasselled cord round his middle. 'Very few people,' remarked Corbett, 'wear such a cord with similar knots. I noticed it the night of the banquet. You used that on Thomas Erceldoun and it left its own unique imprint upon his throat.' Corbett looked at Benstede, who was beginning to regain his composure as he realised the Scots could do little whilst he answered to no one except the English king. 'Really, Master Corbett,' he said softly, 'the only person who should have died was you with your searching questions and inquisitive ways.' 'You certainly tried,' Corbett tartly replied. 'In fact your attempts, or rather one of them, convinced me of your guilt. The dagger thrown in the hall could have been an accident or the work of the French.The attack on the road from Leith and later near Dalmeny Ford might also have been the work of outlaws, the French or the Bruce faction. But the same could not be said about the crossbow bolt which nearly shattered my head as I returned to the abbey the day after the banquet at the castle. It was too well-planned to be an outlaw attack. I had as yet not met the Lord Bruce, so the logical conclusion was that it was the French.' Corbett smiled at Benstede. 'Or rather that is what you hoped I would think after the attack failed. When I left the castle you had me followed and subsequently I was detained by de Craon. Of course, the meeting was not amicable and the French might have pursued me. They did not. I went back to that dingy tavern and questioned the owner. I was fortunate for he informed me that de Craon and his companions never left that tavern until hours later. By which time, the attack was over and I was in the abbey. Oh, you were very clever, Master Benstede. You pointed me, as if I were some stupid dog, in a variety of directions – de Craon, Bruce, anyone who came to mind. You carried out those assassination attempts on me, protecting yourself by saying that you too were the object of assault. I am telling the truth, am I not?' Benstede rose, white-faced with fury. 'You don't understand,' he said. 'What I did, I did for the community of the realm of England. This country needs order, it needs laws, it is a threat to the security and well-being of our Sovereign Lord. Can you imagine a French princess upon the Scottish throne? Edward constantly turning and twirling to see from what direction the attack would come. You have heard of the new French king ordering marriage alliances for his children all over Europe. He intends to create an empire which would dwarf that of Charlemagne. What room would that leave for Edward? You have been through this country. You have seen the violence and how exposed our northern counties would be to such violence. It would be ten, twenty, thirty times worse if there was an alliance between the hostile French and the hostile Scots. If our King was in the south, the attack would be in the north and when he marched north the French would attack the channel coast. I did what I had to for the highest possible motives. If individuals die to save the lives of thousands, where is the wrong?' Corbett shook his head. 'Like me, Master Benstede, you have studied philosophy; evil means do not achieve a good end. Yes, I have seen this land. I agree that a hostile Scottish king would pose a serious threat to England's security but I have also seen the wild expanse of the country; the bogs, marshes, mountains and glens which would swallow England's armies and destroy them. But even if you are correct, Benstede, does this justify your actions? You murdered a good king, the Lord's anointed. You then murdered two young squires and are directly responsible for the violent death of an innocent young man in my retinue. While, in killing Taggart the ferryman, you destroyed a family. You are a murderer, Master Benstede, an assassin, and if there is a God in heaven you should answer for your crimes by the due process of law!' Benstede gathered his cloak about him and rose. 'I will answer to the King, the King of England, who is the fount of all law!' Benstede vehemently answered. 'The King will decide what is good and what is acceptable and then, Master Corbett, you narrow-minded, jumped-up clerk, we shall find out what the due process of law decides,' and, glaring at Corbett, Benstede opened the door and swept out. Corbett let him go, hearing his footsteps echo down the passageway before slumping, head in hands, on to his bed.