Paul Doherty: Nightshade

The groom of the stables did so. Ranulf laid the crossbow between his feet, a wicked-looking barb beside it. He then picked up the longbow and one of the arrows from the quiver. He let the chaplain inspect these, then placed them at his opponent’s feet. Corbett stared in horror at what Ranulf intended.

‘No one will interfere,’ Ranulf warned. ‘Priest, you are a master bowman, swift and deadly. If you strike me before I strike you, then you are free to go. Sir Hugh?’

‘Ranulf, this is-’

‘Sir Hugh?’

Corbett caught the look in Ranulf’s eyes and nodded, though his fingers crept to the hilt of his own dagger. Master Benedict was most skilled. He could notch an arrow faster than Ranulf would ever prime that arbalest.

Master Benedict studied Ranulf carefully and nodded. He stood, body slack, arms down, twisting his wrists to ease any cramp.

‘When I have recited the Gloria.’ Ranulf smiled. ‘Fitting for a murderous priest about to meet his God.’

‘Say it and have done with it.’

‘ Gloria Patri ,’ Ranulf intoned harshly, ‘ et Filii et Spiritus Sancti … ’

The chaplain swiftly reached down, seizing both bow and arrow, bringing them up and stepping back. Ranulf, however, ignored the arbalest; instead he pulled the dagger from his belt and sent it hurtling at the chaplain, striking him full and deep in the chest. Master Benedict staggered back, bow and arrow falling from hishands. Ranulf drew his sword, snaking it out to catch his opponent in the belly, then, stepping closer, thrust it deeper. Master Benedict flailed his hands, head falling back, choking on his own blood.

‘I said,’ Ranulf pressed firmly on his sword, ‘I’d strike you before you struck me, and so I have!’ He pulled out the sword.

Master Benedict’s eyes fluttered; he gave a deep sigh, and collapsed to his knees then on to his side.

‘Trickery,’ Corbett murmured.

‘Justice!’ Ranulf snarled. He squatted before the dead man and plucked out the dagger. ‘He was an assassin, a murderer, Sir Hugh. Did you want him to dance away from the hideous crimes he’d committed? Did you want such a man to slink through the shadows of your nightmares? Perhaps return one day to Leighton Manor, stealing in one night to seek vengeance on you and yours? A wounded animal is a dangerous animal. Master Benedict Le Sanglier deserved his fate. I did what was legal and right.’

‘Right maybe,’ Corbett queried, ‘but legal?’

Ranulf stood up, dug beneath his jerkin and drew out a small parchment scroll. He handed this to Corbett.

‘Legal,’ he declared, ‘just, and right!’

As Corbett undid the scroll, his eyes caught the words ‘what the bearer of this letter has done he has done for the good of the King and the safety of the realm’.

‘Why, Ranulf,’ Corbett glanced up, ‘you are growing most astute.’

‘For the children of this world,’ his companion quoted back,‘are more astute in their dealings with their own kind than the children of the light.’

‘Do you consider yourself to be a child of the light, Ranulf?’

‘No, Sir Hugh.’ Ranulf touched his master gently on the side of his face. ‘I simply work for them.’