Paul Doherty - Prince of Darkness

'Read it and bum it!' He nodded towards the messenger. 'Then take Maltote to the kitchen and get him something to eat. Afterwards we leave for Woodstock.'

Ranulf sauntered out, the young messenger trailing behind him like a lost puppy. Corbett was finishing his ablutions when he heard a knock at the door.

'Come in!' he barked, regretting his harsh command as Dame Agatha entered, bearing a tray covered by a napkin.

'You wish to break fast, Master Corbett, before you go?'

Corbett smiled.

'Good morning, Dame Agatha. Who told you I was leaving?'

'Your servant. You will eat?'

Corbett nodded, rather embarrassed as Dame Agatha bustled round the room, laying the tray on a small table and dragging across a stool. She had brought a bowl of hot chicken broth, freshly baked white manchet loaves and a tankard of watered ale. She did not leave as Corbett took up the pewter spoon and began to eat.

'You are unhurt?' she queried anxiously.

'Yes, except in my pride, Sister.'

She walked across and placed her soft, white hand on his arm. Corbett looked up. It felt strange to be alone in a chamber with such a solicitous, beautiful young woman.

'Take care,' she whispered. 'Do not be rash. Gaveston will be cunning. Lady Amelia says the dogs were loosed by him but we have no proof. Do not give him a pretext to strike you down.'

She withdrew her hand and grazed his cheek softly with the back of her fingers. Corbett blushed and, tongue-tied, went back to eating, not daring to raise his head until he heard Dame Agatha's soft footfalls and the chamber door close behind her. He was touched by her care and concern but found it difficult to accept. He felt guilty as he thought of Maeve's sweet face, and embarrassed that he should be so powerfully attracted to a woman dedicated to God. Nevertheless, Dame Agatha's advice was wise and Corbett felt his temper cool. He decided he would show Gaveston he was not frightened but be wary of making any rash move. Gaveston was the favourite of a Prince of the Blood and even to draw steel in the Prince of Wales' presence could be construed as treason.

Corbett chewed absent-mindedly on the bread whilst analysing the problem which faced him. In logic he had been taught to reach an acceptable conclusion by revising the steps which led to it. How could he do that now? He smiled and went over to the bag Ranulf had hidden beneath the bed. Corbett, laughing softly to himself, examined his servant's venture into selling physic. He took a small jar of ointment, went down the stairs and out across to the convent building. No one was around. He slipped quietly up the stairs and gently tapped on Dame Elizabeth's door.

'Come in! Come in!' The old nun was as imperious as ever but she visibly thawed when she saw Corbett and beamed with pleasure at his gift.

'A rare potion,' Corbett announced slyly.

Oh, Lord, he thought, what does it contain? Ranulf was harmless but the potion could be dangerous.

'It's ointment,' he lied, 'culled from the hoof of an elk and mixed with herbs. Smear it on your four bedposts every night It will purify evil vapours from the air, make you breathe more easily and allow more restful sleep.'

The old nun nodded wisely and Corbett felt a twinge of guilt at his incredible lies. He placed the ointment on the table beside her, rose and walked over to the window. He peered down

'What are you looking at, Master Clerk?'

I am just remembering how you and Dame Martha saw Lady Eleanor on the night before she died. You are sure it was her?'

'Oh, yes!' The old nun chewed on her gums. 'You see, Dame Martha was standing where you are. She called me over and pointed down. "Look," she said, "there's Lady Eleanor!"'

'When was that?'

'Oh, just before Compline.'

'And what happened then?'

'We tapped on the window and called out. Lady Eleanor turned and waved up at us.' 'You could hear her voice?'

'Oh, yes. Dame Martha had opened the window and asked where she was going. Lady Eleanor replied she was going for a walk behind the church.' The old nun's eyes narrowed. 'She was always going there.'

'You are sure it was she?'

'Of course!'

'What was she wearing?'

'One of her blue gowns. Blue was her favourite colour.' 'But you saw her face?'

'Oh, yes, she had her hood up but she turned and shouted back at us.'

'Did you see her return?' 'No, but of course she must have. ' Corbett felt a twinge of disappointment. 'Master Corbett!'

The clerk spun round. Lady Amelia, accompanied by her ever present acolytes, Dames Frances and Catherine, stood in the doorway, quivering with righteous anger.

'You may be the King's Clerk, Master Corbett, but this is a convent building. You have no right to be here. Even though you are talking to an old nun!' She threw a look of contempt at Dame Elizabeth.

'Dame Elizabeth is my friend,' Corbett snapped. I am a man of honour as well as a royal emissary.' Corbett felt his own anger boil at the Prioress' air of righteous indignation. I will leave this chamber when I have finished and, Lady Prioress, I should be grateful if you would wait for me in your own chamber. I have further questions to ask you.'

The Lady Prioress looked as if she was going to refuse but Corbett stood his ground and glared back. Lady Amelia, with one more disdainful glance at Dame Elizabeth, stepped back and closed the door behind her. The old nun rose and scuttled across to him. Clasping her hands to her chest, she gazed up in round-eyed admiration.

'You are brave, Master Clerk,' she murmured. 'No one else dares to speak to the Lady Prioress like that.'

Corbett gently patted her hand.

'Rest easy, Sister,' he said. 'She had no right to say what she did, and I never could stand a bully.'

He scooped the old lady's vein-scored hand to his lips. 'But enough. I bid you adieu.' He walked towards the door.

'Master Corbett!' Dame Elizabeth scurried towards him. 'I shall tell you a secret,' she whispered. 'One I have told no one else.'

'What is that, Sister?'

'On the afternoon Lady Eleanor died, I saw horsemen in the trees.' She pointed to the window. 'There in the forest, beyond the walls.'

Corbett walked back to the window. The convent building was high and Dame Elizabeth's chamber on the second storey. He could see, just over the wall, the line of trees which marked the beginning of the forest.

'Where exactly were they?'

Dame Elizabeth came alongside him.

'There,' she murmured. 'I was staring out, just after mid-day. I was watching a hawk above the trees when suddenly I saw something move. My eyes are not very good,' she apologised, so I stood and watched closely. I saw the horses, and three or four men just sitting there. If one of them had not been riding a white horse I would never have noticed them. Shadowy figures,' she whispered, 'who hardly moved. I went back to bathe my eyes and when I returned I could not see them.' She chuckled. 'I have told no one. I am not like Dame Martha. I don't chatter and allow, myself to be dismissed as an old fool!'

'Did anyone else see them?' 'No, not that I have heard.'

Corbett gazed at the distant line of trees. Anyone with good eyesight would certainly have seen the riders, but to someone like Dame Elizabeth their presence might only be betrayed by a flash of colour.

'Did you see them again?'

'Oh, no.'

'Did they wear any livery?'

She shook her head. Corbett rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

'Tell me, could these riders have entered the convent?' 'Oh, no. The gates would have been locked, and the porter may be a drunkard but he has his orders.' 'They could have climbed the walls?' Dame Elizabeth laughed.

I doubt it. One of the labourers or lay sisters would have seen them. Anyway,' she said, 'you know what men are. They would have clattered upstairs along the gallery and woken both me and Dame Martha.'