Paul Doherty - Satan in St Mary

Nineteen

Corbett arrived back in the Tower late in the evening to find Sir Edward Swynnerton frenetic and the Tower abustle with activity as if expecting attack. Sir Edward, Neville beside him, was ordering horses out and rooms refurbished. Ranulf was sitting against a wall, staring like a gargoyle, mouth open, face twisted with concern. Corbett called over to him and Ranulf's face broke into a cheery grin as he ambled over to join his master. "Well, Ranulf, " Corbett said, more pleased than he had expected to see his assistant back again. "You enjoyed the city?"

"Yes, " Ranulf replied. "I went back to Thames Street to check on our lodgings. "

"And all was safe?" Corbett interrupted.

"As secure as the Tower itself, " Ranulf answered. He did not dare tell his master about his seduction of Mistress Grant, a fine lady, Ranulf mused, with her silken plump thighs and small rounded breasts. She went down like a drawbridge, Ranulf thought, all squeals and protests but obliging all the same.

Corbett watched him suspiciously. There was something wrong though he decided it would have to wait, for he caught sight of Swynnerton out of the corner of his eyes, huffing and puffing his way across to him.

"It must be you, Master Clerk, " he barked.

"I beg your pardon?" Corbett said.

"It must be you, " Swynnerton pressed home the point. "The city is full of soldiers and not just country bumpkins collected by Commissioners of Array but professional veterans, mercenaries hired by the King and usually kept at a far distance from the city. " The old soldier paused for breath before continuing: "They are going to be sent here. I also understand the King has summoned the Mayor and Aldermen to Woodstock and has issued writs to sheriffs ordering a levy of men in the shires. The ports are to be closed and… "

"And you think it is all because of me?" Corbett abruptly interrupted. Swynnerton edged closer and Corbett smelt his stale breath. "Master Clerk, I know it is because of you. You're a very dangerous man, aren't you? You were right about that priest and God knows what else you have uncovered! I'll be glad when you're gone!" Swynnerton then dug beneath his cloak and drew out a sealed letter. "This arrived for you. " He dropped the writ into Corbett's hand and walked away.

Corbett studied the personal seal of the Lord Chancellor and carefully opened the letter. It was fulsome. Burnell thanked Corbett, 'his dear and trusted clerk for his work in bringing to light the evil conspiracy which had flourished like a canker in the fairest city of the King's realm'. He then bluntly continued that Corbett was to proceed immediately to the royal palace of Woodstock outside Oxford to receive thanks from a grateful monarch.

Corbett sighed, folded the letter and put it into his pouch. On any other occasion Corbett would have been delighted with such an order for a personal meeting with the King meant preferment and patronage in the arduous climb to high office. Nevertheless, Corbett reasoned, he would be glad to be free of London and the Tower whilst the hunt for the conspirators took place. He thought of Alice and anxiously wondered if she had escaped. He turned and walked back to his lodgings, his anxieties and worries gnawing at his soul, threatening to drown it in a fit of black depression. He had to move, keep actively involved in affairs, anything rather than be drawn into the savage whirlpool of regret and desperation.

Within hours Corbett had organized Ranulf into obtaining two horses and a sumpter pony, on which all their baggage was piled and securely tied. Ranulf was so pleased to be going, to be leaving London where there seemed so much danger, for Ranulf had reached the private conclusion that it was safer to be a criminal or felon than be an officer of the law. In addition, as he proudly proclaimed to anyone who bothered to listen, this was the first time he had been out of the city. In his turn, Swynnerton was only too pleased to see the back of Corbett, who had severely upset the harmony of life and routine at the Tower, and eagerly supplied the enigmatic clerk with the necessary documents to get out of the city and travel to Oxford.

Just before dark, Corbett and Ranulf bade their farewell to the garrison, led their horses through the postern gate and began their journey north. Corbett knew he would have to lodge at a tavern but he was determined to be out of the city as quickly as possible. At first, Ranulf was excited and talkative but his master's clipped answers, guarded looks and the sheer fascination of travel silenced him and he hung back a little, busily looking around him and trying to control the sumpter pony which seemed to have taken a savage dislike to him. Since they had left the Tower, which lay outside the city wall, they were free of interference from city officials, though the roads to and from London were being well patrolled and they eventually met a group of soldiers under a serjeant-of-arms.

They were the same hardened professionals Swynnerton had mentioned the King was sending into the city: Corbett had served with such men in Wales and along the Welsh March. Hard-faced, their skin toughened and burnt by the sun and wind, hair closely cropped to make their helmets and caps easier to wear. They were stationed at a bridge that Corbett had to cross and quietly surrounded him and Ranulf. Their leader inspected Swynnerton's letters and warrants while the rest of the escort checked the horses and casually prodded bundles strapped on the sumpter pony whose wicked temperament ensured this was done with the greatest care.

After a few questions, they were allowed to cross and continue their journey into the gathering darkness until Corbett decided to stay at a roadside tavern whose ale-bush, welcoming light and hot food were a welcome relief, despite the dirty rushes, ale-stained tables and the offensive smell of tallow candles and animal fat. Once again, they ran into a party of soldiers who were also staying there. The same questions were asked and the same answers given, before

Corbett and Ranulf were left alone to their steaming bowls of soup and makeshift beds on the flea-ridden floor.

So, their journey continued for four days. Sometimes they joined groups of other travellers; merchants, hawkers and pedlars, the occasional lawyer going up to the Halls of Oxford or groups of loud-mouthed students in their long patched robes returning to their studies. Corbett and Ranulf engaged in desultory conversation with these companions and all reported an increase in military traffic on the London roads.

There was constant speculation on the reason why, though most welcomed it, for, despite the King's ordinances to cut back the hedgerows and keep the highways clear and well patrolled, outlaw attacks were common.

Corbett wished to avoid company but Ranulf clearly relished every encounter, particularly the ladies in their ornate litters slung between two horses. Corbett had to intervene occasionally to ensure his servant, as he described Ranulf, did not give offence and provoke the wrath of the accompanying menfolk.

When they were alone, their journey was pleasant enough through woods and copses of oak, juniper, box and beechwood. Sometimes the trees were so crowded together that their spring-freshened branches formed an intricate canopy above their heads, blocking out the weak sunshine. Only then did Ranulf fall silent, afraid of the forest, the eerie darkness beyond the trees, so different from the streets and alleyways of the city.

Corbett, however, felt at home, for such scenes took him back to the heavy dark woods of West Sussex and the even more dangerous ones in Shropshire and along the Welsh March. At other times, as they crossed or went through the clear fertile valleys of the Cotswolds, they passed villages surrounded by their patchwork of fields. The cottages of the villeins, simple oblong buildings with a loft above and a shed or kitchen behind, sometimes dominated by the walled, square-shaped manor house of the lord or bailiff.