Paul Doherty - Assassin in the Greenwood

'But how is the outlaw to be caught?' Ranulf asked. He moved over to the window but stood warily to one side for he had not forgotten the previous day's attack.

'Our sweet Robin,' Corbett sardonically commented, 'will not be caught by floundering about in the forest. I have no intention of returning there to blunder about waiting for an arrow to take me in the throat. The wolfshead must be enticed out, but what can we use as bait?'

'There is another way,' Ranulf replied. 'If you found his spy here…'

Corbett sat up. 'Strange you should say that. Did you notice Naylor went with us into the forest, Maigret and Friar Thomas were waiting for our return, but have you caught sight of Master Roteboeuf?'

'Do you think he could be the traitor?'

'Yes, he might be. He showed little grief over Sir Eustace's death and, as you remarked, is capable of bearing arms. So why didn't he come with us or at least wait for our return?' Corbett chewed the quick of his thumb nail, then grinned at his tousled-headed, white-faced manservant. 'Don't worry, Ranulf, we are hardly likely to go back into the forest but you are right. If we catch the traitor we remove Robin Hood's most powerful supporter and, more importantly, we'll probably hang the murderer of both Sir Eustace and poor Lecroix.' Corbett swung his legs off the bed. 'Let's stay busy, Ranulf.'

'And do what?'

'Well, we can't question Lecroix. He has gone to meet his maker. So let's pretend to be two mummers in a play and re-trace Vechey's steps the night he died. At the same time, we'll send for Roteboeuf.'

Corbett filled his wine cup and went down to the hall. Except for one servant whom Corbett sent to summon Roteboeuf, the place was deserted as the garrison huddled in groups outside in the bailey to hear about the disaster in the forest, tended their injured or, like Sir Peter, sulked morosely in private, licking their wounds.

Corbett went up to the table on the dais. 'Now according to what we know, Vechey left the hall, followed by Lecroix and Maigret.' He walked to the door. 'Our dead sheriff carried a cup of wine which had been tasted for him at table as was everything he put in his mouth. He went up to his chamber. None of the others in the household are affected except Sir Peter, who returned for his wine cup. It tasted rather strange so he threw it away.' Corbett then walked upstairs, Ranulf trailing behind him. They stopped outside Vechey's chamber. 'What happened next?'

'According to our good physician, Vechey made him re-taste the wine. The sheriff then went into the chamber,' Ranulf continued, 'Lecroix with him. The door was locked from the inside and two soldiers stood on guard.'

'Which means,' Corbett replied, 'that Maigret, Friar Thomas, Peter Branwood, Roteboeuf, or indeed anyone else in the castle could have slipped back into the hall and poisoned Branwood's wine.'

'Right.' Corbett pushed the door open and went into the death chamber. It was still squalid and dark: the dirty rushes scuffed into piles, the bed drapes half-pulled, the blankets and sheets all disarranged. The cup holding the stale dregs of wine still stood untouched, as did the scum-covered water in the lavarium bowl and the plate of sweetmeats with the flies hovering over them. Ranulf went and sat on Lecroix's trestle bed whilst Corbett pretended to repeat exactly what Vechey must have done though he was careful not to sip the wine, touch the water or taste any of the decaying sweetmeats. He then pretended to wash and dry his face and hands, careful not to touch the blood-spattered napkin, and went to lie down on top of the stale-smelling blankets.

'Have I missed anything?' he called.

Ranulf shook his head.

'Then in God's name…'

Corbett's words were cut off as the door was pushed open and an anxious-faced Roteboeuf came into the chamber.

'Sir Eustace's death is still a mystery, Sir Hugh?'

'Everything's a mystery,' Corbett snapped, getting up. 'Why did Robin go back to the forest? Why does he kill? How were Sir Eustace and Lecroix murdered? And, above all, who was the traitor who would have had us all killed in the forest?' Corbett glared at him. 'Which is why I sent for you.'

Roteboeuf stepped back.

'Why didn't you go with us?' Ranulf challenged. He pointed to the wrist-guard peeping out from underneath one of Roteboeuf's sleeves. 'You are an accomplished archer.'

'I am a clerk.'

'So am I!' Corbett snapped.

Roteboeuf scratched his head and sat on the stool, pulling his hose so tight Ranulf thought they would split.

'Why didn't you come?' Corbett repeated.

'Oh, what's the use?' Roteboeuf sighed. 'In a word, Sir Hugh, I am a coward. No, that's not right. I hate the forest and have no desire to die there.'

'You are Nottingham born?' Corbett asked, ignoring Roteboeuf's excuses.

'Yes, I was born within the walls.'

'So you know the stories and legends of Robin Hood?'

'Everyone does.' Roteboeuf got to his feet and stared anxiously round. Corbett sensed that beneath his cheery exterior, he was suspicious and worried.

'What's the matter?' Ranulf jibed. 'No one likes to die, particularly with an arrow in the throat in some God-forsaken forest. Anyway, what are you frightened of now?'

Roteboeuf forced a smile. 'Nothing! I just feel sorry for Sir Peter. We all accept there's a traitor in the castle and no man is free from suspicion.' He walked over to Corbett. 'But if you really want to know about Robin Hood,' he whispered, 'why ask me? Go down to the house of the friars which lies at the foot of the castle rock. Ask Father Prior if you can speak to Will Scarlett who serves as a lay brother there.'

'Scarlett? Robin's lieutenant in the old days?'

'The same. You see, Robin was a very young man when he first fled to the forest, Scarlett much older. When the outlaws accepted the King's pardon, Scarlett went home but his wife died of the pestilence. He saw that as God's judgement so now he does reparation behind the friary walls.'

'Why didn't Sir Peter Branwood tell us about this?'

Roteboeuf stared anxiously about. 'What does it matter, Sir Hugh? Scarlett has now accepted the King's peace. If Vechey or Branwood had found out otherwise, they would drag Scarlett from the friary and hang him on the castle walls just for the sake of it. I am telling you because, as the King's Commissioner, you might reassure him.' Roteboeuf stared at them, shrugged and slipped out of the room.

Corbett gazed at the half-open door.

'There goes a very worried man,' he commented. 'Right, Ranulf, let's leave this accursed castle and make hay whilst the sun shines. Let us visit this man Scarlett.'

'What about Achitophel?' Ranulf warned. 'If he is hunting you, surely he'll now be in the town waiting to seize his opportunity?'

Corbett smiled. 'De Craon has been hunting my head for years. So far, thank God, he has never taken it.'

They left the castle by a postern door and followed the winding path down around the crag, past the dark mouths of caves burrowed into the rock. Corbett stopped outside The Trip to Jerusalem.

'No sign of Maltote yet,' he remarked, watching the busy yard full of horses as travellers, tinkers, pedlars and merchants crowded in to spend the profits of a morning's trade.

They walked down a small side street, the gables of the houses jutting out above them. Children waded knee-deep in the sewer, throwing pieces of offal at the dogs or fending off the pigs with sharp little sticks. They turned a corner, went down a small lane and stopped before the main gate of the friary.

A grumbling lay brother answered the jangling bell and ushered them along paved corridors to Father Prior's room. The latter was hardly welcoming: a tall, severe man, Prior Joachim regarded both Corbett and Ranulf with the utmost suspicion. Only when Corbett produced letters and warrants from the King did the Prior relax and offer refreshment which Corbett courteously refused.