Paul Doherty - Prince of Darkness

Both Gaveston and the Prince were there. The royal favourite sat in a quilted window seat whilst young Edward lounged in a chair near him. They were both gazing out of the window like homesick boys, as if desperately wishing to be elsewhere. The King, however, had ordered that his son should stay at Woodstock and, of course, where the Prince of Wales was, Gaveston his shadow always followed.

Both young men loved ostentatious dress but today they were dressed simply in hose pushed into soft leather riding boots, lacy cambric shirts, and blood-red taffeta jackets slung across their shoulders. Gaveston didn't turn a hair as Corbett and Ranulf were announced. The Prince, however, smiled falsely, straightening up in his chair and running long white fingers through his blond hair.

'Master Corbett, I remember you. You are my father's man.'

'And yours, Your Grace.'

The Prince smirked and indicated that a steward should bring forward two chairs.

'Corbett, you and your wide-eyed servant may as well sit. You wish for some wine?'

The Prince didn't even wait for an answer but turned to a small table beside him, slopped two goblets full of wine, rose and thrust them at his unwanted guests. Corbett murmured his thanks and sipped gently. Ranulf drained his cup in two noisy gulps. The Prince smirked and Gaveston turned, for the first time acknowledging their presence with a condescending sneer. Corbett refused to be ruffled. He guessed both men were drunk but Gaveston particularly, even half-asleep, was as dangerous as a slumbering boar. He studied the Gascon's dark effete face and the jewel-encrusted pearl which swung arrogantly from one ear lobe. In everything he was the perfect courtier. The King had told him that Gaveston aimed high, coveted an earldom, and wished to use his friendship with the Prince to found a dynasty as great as the de Clares, the Beaumonts, or any of the great lords who had followed the Conqueror across the Narrow Seas.

For his part, Gaveston scrutinised the clerk whilst running the tip of his tongue over full fleshy lips. He cursed the drink, his own maudlin thoughts, and the Prince for seeing Corbett. In his heart Gaveston knew that young Edward quite liked the clerk; admired the man's fidelity and unwillingness to criticise him to his terrible father. Gaveston feared no one, neither the King, de Warenne, or any great lord, but was wary of Corbett with his secretive face and hooded eyes. Soon the questions would begin and the Prince would have no choice but to answer. Oh, he could stand on his dignity, but Corbett would inform the King and the Prince would have to answer eventually. Gaveston clenched his hands in his lap. He and the Prince should be left alone! He glanced quickly at Edward and Corbett saw the flicker of annoyance on the Prince's face.

'Your Grace,' he asked, 'you object to my being here?'

'No, Corbett, I do not. What puzzles me is why?'

'Lady Eleanor's death.'

The Prince arched an eyebrow.

'There's some problem?' he asked. I understand she had an accident?'

'No, it is said she was murdered.'

Corbett stared coolly back, noting the agitation his stark comment had caused.

'You have proof of that?' Gaveston asked.

'My Lord, soon I will, but whatever evidence I have will not make any difference to the Prince's enemies. They will still allege he murdered her.' Corbett leaned forward. I am not saying I believe that I report what I feel, as well as the rumour that is spreading. Accordingly, the more facts I have, the better I can combat the lies on the Prince's behalf.'

Edward stared at Corbett and suddenly throwing back his head, roared with laughter. Gaveston looked perplexed. Corbett just sat motionless, impassive, until the Prince had recovered himself.

'Oh, that's rich, Corbett' he said, wiping a tear from his eye. 'I am touched by your concern. Please accept my most sincere thanks for your interest.' His mood suddenly changed. 'I know why you are here. For God's sake get on with it!'

The clerk shrugged.

'Lady Eleanor, Your Grace, men say she was ill?' He hurried on, 'Of a malady of the breast?' The Prince nodded. 'How long had that been so?' 'Oh, about a year.' 'Some people say longer.'

'Some people are liars! I am not responsible,' Edward snapped, 'for what people like to invent They snout in the dirt with their long noses. They can make up what they want.'

'You did not visit Lady Eleanor at Godstowe?' 'No, I did not. I did not love her. For me the relationship was ended.'

I am sure that was so,' Corbett replied drily, regretting the quip as soon as it was uttered, noticing the hostility flare in the Prince's light blue eyes. 'You must have been concerned?' he continued hastily.

'Lady Eleanor wanted for nothing. She had her comforts. She lived in luxury. The Lady Prioress looked after all her needs.'

'You sent her medicine. Your Grace?'

The Prince chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip.

I know what you are thinking!' Gaveston intervened, rising from the window seat. 'It was I who sent the medicines. You may think they were tainted, but we know they were tested at the priory and I doubt the Lady Eleanor would have taken them solely on the Prince's word.'

'I am sure My Lord Gaveston is correct,' Corbett answered. 'But what were these powders?'

'Look, Corbett,' the Gascon snarled, I am a courtier, and sometime soldier. I am not a physician. They were simple potions, meant to relieve the pains in Lady Eleanor's chest and afford her sleep.'

Corbett, sensing he could proceed no further, decided to change tack.

'On the day Lady Eleanor died, Your Grace-'

I was at Woodstock. I hunted in the afternoon and feasted in the evening. All who matter saw me here, including the French envoy, Sir Amaury de Craon.'

'Did you send any messages that day?'

'No, I did not. Piers here sent down potions. Oh, on the day before Lady Eleanor met with her accident.'

' Ah, yes, we are back to the potions. Did the Lady Eleanor ask for them?'

'Yes, she did,' Gaveston replied vehemently. 'She said they afforded her great relief.'

'Your Grace, on that matter, was the Lady Eleanor melancholic?'

'Yes,' the Prince replied, for the first time showing compassion. 'The poor creature was ill. She knew I did not love her, I did not hide my feelings. So, what more?'

Corbett quickly looked at Ranulf, who sat as if carved from stone, transfixed by their rapid questions like a spectator at some skilful sword fight.

'What do you think happened on the day Lady Eleanor died?'

I know no more than you, Corbett The facts are: Lady Eleanor kept to herself, put on her cloak to go for a walk and, in the half-light, slipped on the staircase at Godstowe, fell and broke her neck.'

The Prince yawned as if bored. 'Well, Clerk, that is all.' He rose, walked across and put a hand on his favourite's shoulder. 'So, Corbett do you wish to know more?'

'Yes, Your Grace. Were you and the Lady Eleanor secretly married?'

Ranulf gulped noisily as he saw all the colour drain from the Prince's face. Gaveston stiffened like a dog ready to attack.

'No, of course we were not! Why do you ask?'

'Nothing, Your Grace, just scurrilous rumours. And you heard about Lady Eleanor's death on Monday morning?'

'Yes. The porter brought me the message. You know that, Corbett. Don't sit there and bait me!'

The Prince of Wales flicked a lace-cuffed wrist. 'Now, for God's sake, man, leave us!'

'No!' Gaveston spoke up, his face wreathed in false smiles. 'Your Grace, Master Corbett has been most busy. The priory at Godstowe has its attractions, but not for a man accustomed to the luxuries of this world.' He winked at Corbett. 'The Prince and I,' he continued, 'have arranged a sumptuous banquet this evening.' He grinned. 'We are the hosts as well as the only guests. I insist you join us!' He clapped his hands and the steward suddenly reappeared. Gaveston raised a hand to fend off Corbett's objections. 'We insist don't we, Your Grace?'