‘But he was not with the hunt!’
‘Neither was Sir William.’
‘Your father fled?’
‘Any man of wit would have done!’ she replied. ‘He was not with Lord Henry when he was killed. It was well known we had justifiable grievances against Lord Henry. If Sir William had caught my father, he would have hanged him out of hand.’
‘And now your father shelters in St Oswald’s?’
‘He shelters, sir, because that is the only place which will protect him, until royal justice is done.’
‘You can continue to shout at me,’ Corbett told her. He put his fingers on her leather-gloved hand; she did not withdraw it. ‘While I am here,’ he went on, studying those beautiful eyes, ‘no man will be hanged, no sentence carried out till the truth is known.’
‘Pilate asked what was truth. He was a judge.’
‘My name is not Pilate. It’s Sir Hugh Corbett. The truth will be discovered by careful questioning.’
‘Such as?’
‘Where was your father when the hunt was taking place?’
Alicia swallowed hard. ‘My father was with the others, the verderers.’
‘No, he wasn’t. He was with you, wasn’t he?’
Alicia blinked and nodded. ‘My father was terrified that Lord Henry would use the hunt, and his absence, to slip back and. .’
‘Meet you?’
‘No, Sir Hugh, accost me! Kick down the door, force himself upon me. As he tried to do on numerous occasions. I was frightened. My father was agitated. He came back to our house on the estate. I told him all would be well, then he left, hurrying back before he was missed.’
‘And during that time Lord Henry was killed?’
‘My father arrived at Savernake Dell shortly after the assassin struck. He took one look at what had happened and ran back to me. He wanted to flee, reach one of the ports, Rye, Winchelsea, go abroad.’ The young woman paused. ‘I refused. I said it was unjust to flee from a crime of which we were both innocent.’
‘Why didn’t you flee before?’ Corbett asked.
‘Sir Hugh, where could we go? My father is a verderer. The roads are full of landless families while Lord Henry’s arm was both strong and very long. Why should we give up our lives because of his lust?’
‘Are you glad he’s dead?’
‘He can burn in Hell for what he did to me and my father.’
‘And now?’ Corbett asked.
‘Sir William is one of the same stock. But, deep in his heart, I think he’s shamed by what his brother did.’
‘And so, why have you come to me?’
‘My father’s in sanctuary.’
‘You can still visit him.’
‘For how long?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Corbett replied quickly. ‘Tomorrow I will hold court in St Oswald’s church. I will summon all those involved in this matter and search out the truth. Is that not correct, Ranulf?’
Corbett was now alarmed by his manservant: he hadn’t touched his food or uttered one syllable but stared fixedly at Alicia. Usually, in the presence of a pretty young woman, Ranulf was all merry-eyed and quick-witted, ever ready to flirt. Now he sat like a moonstruck calf, though Alicia seemed not to notice.
‘I must return.’ She moved back the stool and rose.
‘I. . I will see you to your horse.’
Ranulf pushed his trauncher away and rose like a sleepwalker. He took the young woman’s arm and gently escorted her across the taproom and out to the stable yard. A groom led across a sorry-looking cob, the saddle across its back battered and worn. Ranulf made an angry gesture with his hand and grabbed the reins himself. He then helped Alicia up into the saddle.
‘You ride like a man?’ He found the question stilted and clumsy. He just wished this young woman would notice him and not ride away. She glanced down.
‘You must be Ranulf-atte-Newgate?’
‘Yes,’ he answered in a rush. ‘Senior clerk in the Chancery of the Green Wax.’
She smiled. ‘Do you always stare at women?’
Ranulf rubbed sweat-soaked hands on his jerkin.
‘I’ve never seen anyone like you before.’
Alicia laughed. ‘With two heads!’
‘No, you’ve only got one,’ Ranulf replied seriously. He grabbed the reins again and stared fiercely up at her. ‘Your father’s innocent,’ he said hoarsely. ‘He must be innocent.’ He caught the look of disquiet in her eyes. ‘No, no, you wait and see. Old Master Long Face in there, I mean Sir Hugh, he will discover the truth.’
‘Are you looking for a bribe?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Is that why you are here, Ranulf-atte-Newgate? Are you like the rest, your brains in your hose?’
Ranulf blushed. ‘You misunderstand me, madam.’
‘Do I now? I have never misunderstood a man in my life! All sweetness and light, ready to play Cat’s-Cradle?’
‘That is not the case!’ Ranulf snapped, spots of anger high on his cheeks. He was mystified, baffled by what was happening, but the young woman’s face, her mannerisms, the shifting moods in those eyes, entranced him. Ranulf quietly cursed. He was tongue-tied. Strange, the woman reminded him of Lady Maeve, Corbett’s wife: she had the same effect. If he was honest, Ranulf felt overawed, even frightened, and this made him angry. He, Ranulf-atte-Newgate, clerk, bully-boy, fighting man! Alicia was still studying him.
‘You are telling the truth, aren’t you?’ she said quietly. ‘You really don’t mean any offence? I’ve never seen a man blush before.’ She gathered the reins up. ‘I am sorry if I was brusque.’
She stretched out a hand. Ranulf seized it and kissed the back of the leather glove. He glanced up. Alicia glimpsed the passion in his eyes and withdrew her hand.
‘They said your master was a strange one. But he keeps even stranger company.’ She raised a hand. ‘I bid you adieu, Master Ranulf-atte-Newgate.’
And, turning her horse, she cantered out of the yard. Ranulf watched her go. He felt like running after her, explaining exactly how he felt. Had he done the right thing? Shouldn’t he have offered to escort her? He heard a snigger and looked across. Two stable boys were watching him. Ranulf’s hand brushed the hilt of the dagger and both boys suddenly remembered they had tasks to do. He walked back into the taproom, where Corbett had finished his meal.
‘Ranulf, are you well?’ He gestured at the half-full trauncher. ‘Won’t you finish your meal?’
‘I don’t feel hungry.’
Corbett got to his feet. ‘Ranulf, in God’s name, what is the matter? Do you know that young woman?’
‘I wish to God I did!’
‘Ah, that’s it!’ Corbett put a hand gently on his shoulder. ‘Ranulf-atte-Newgate, the terror of the ladies, the man who even thought of becoming a priest!’
‘Don’t taunt me!’
‘I’m not taunting you.’ Corbett’s hand fell away. ‘It happens, Ranulf, it always happens as a terrible shock, and like death, we never know when.’
He studied Ranulf’s face, which looked paler than usual. Two red spots burned high in his cheeks, a rare sign when Ranulf was disturbed or agitated; his green cat-eyes gleamed as if he had been drinking.
‘There’s a time and a place,’ Corbett said. He took Ranulf by the arm and led him out through the taproom into the garden. ‘Always remember, Ranulf, the garden is the best place to plot.’ He grinned. ‘As well as to pay court. No listening ears, no watching eyes.’
They sat on a turfed seat. Corbett took his chancery ring and moved it so the sun glinted in the reflection.
‘What do we have here, Ranulf? Sunbeams or substance? Shadows or something more tangible? It’s the old dance, isn’t it? Whenever a murder takes place, people tell you what they want you to hear, make you see what they want you to see.’ He nudged his companion sharply. ‘Less of the lovelorn squire. Where is the keen-witted clerk of the Green Wax? Item.’ Corbett used his fingers to emphasise the points he made. ‘Lord Henry Fitzalan is very rich, powerful, disliked by all and sundry and he is killed during a hunt.’ He glanced at Ranulf but his manservant’s mind was elsewhere. ‘Item,’ Corbett continued. ‘Lord Henry was disliked by his younger brother over whose purse strings he kept strict control. Sir William was not present when Lord Henry was killed. Item — we have Robert Verlian, chief verderer. He hated Lord Henry for his lecherous intentions to his daughter. He, too, was not present when his lord was killed and inexplicably flees. Item — Sir William seems intent on placing the blame fairly on Verlian’s shoulders. Item — St Hawisia is now standing in that carp pond over there. Don’t you agree, Ranulf?’