‘And Passerel?’
Lady Mathilda smiled. ‘At first I couldn’t understand the meaning of what Ascham had written but then I saw how I could use it. I realised Passerel might have learnt something from Ascham. Our bursar was an agitated little man and forty days in a lonely church can be a powerful prick to the memory.’ She shrugged. ‘The rest you know. I really thought it would end with Appleston’s death.’ She wagged her finger at Corbett. ‘But, of course, you changed all that: the King’s clever, little crow hopping about, protected by his bullyboy.’
‘Why did you kill Maltote?’ Corbett asked grimly.
She raised her hand in a mock innocent gesture but her eyes showed no contrition.
‘The Lord be my witness: I told Master Moth never to be taken.’ She straightened in the chair, smoothing out the pleats of her dress. She breathed in noisily, her eyes never leaving Corbett. ‘You have my confession, master clerk. So what will happen now, eh? Edward will not put me before the King’s Bench. He’ll remember the old days — ’ she preened ‘- and the good service I did for the crown: I am afraid it will be some nunnery for Lady Mathilda.’
‘I need some wine,’ Ranulf interrupted. ‘Sir Hugh, a cup of claret?’
Corbett was only too pleased to have Ranulf out of the room.
‘Yes,’ he replied.
‘And one for me, lackey!’ Lady Mathilda snapped.
Ranulf glanced at Corbett who nodded.
‘And don’t worry,’ Lady Mathilda called after him, ‘there’ll be no more poison.’
Ranulf left, and Lady Mathilda started to rise.
‘Madam, I would prefer it if you sat.’
Lady Mathilda did so.
‘Can I remind you, clerk, that the King addresses me as “His loyal and dearest cousin”, not to mention your promise of mercy. I do not want to be arrested by that buffoon of a sheriff but taken to Woodstock. I’ll go in black, and throw myself at the King’s feet: he’ll not forget Henry or his Mathilda.’
The door opened and Ranulf returned. He served the wine. Corbett sipped his and Lady Mathilda drank greedily as Ranulf sat down with his back to the door. She looked over her cup at Corbett.
‘You’ll take me to Woodstock, Corbett. You promised me mercy and I know that your word is your bond. You’ll repeat your promise before the King: Edward will understand.’
‘And Master Moth?’ Ranulf interrupted.
‘He will accompany me: he’s my servant.’ She didn’t even bother to turn her head.
‘Bullock is downstairs with Master Moth,’ Ranulf announced. ‘The sheriff wishes to have words with us; he said it was a most urgent matter.’
Corbett looked at Lady Mathilda. He felt uneasy. Ranulf’s silence and grim face made the hair on the nape of his neck curl in fear.
‘Take him with you,’ Lady Mathilda said.
‘Oh, don’t worry!’ Corbett rose to his feet. ‘Ranulf is very particular about the company he keeps. We’ll take the key out and lock you in.’
Ranulf looked as if he was about to refuse but rose to his feet. He took the key out of the lock and opened the door. Corbett was half-way through before he realised his mistake. Ranulf gave him a push, sending him hurtling across the gallery. The door slammed shut, and was locked and bolted.
‘Ranulf!’ Corbett threw himself against the door but the metal embosses on the outside only hurt his shoulder. ‘Ranulf!’ he shouted. ‘For the love of God, I order you to open!’
Inside the chamber, however, Corbett might have been at the furthest end of the earth. Lady Mathilda half rose in alarm. Ranulf pushed her back in the seat. She watched his hand go to the hilt of his dagger.
‘You’ll not kill me?’ she whispered. ‘Not an old lady? The King’s dear cousin? You’ll not draw your steel on me?’
‘I’ll not stab you,’ Ranulf replied, coming to crouch beside her chair, his cup of wine still in his hand. ‘I want to tell you, Lady Mathilda, that you are no woman! You have no soul! You seethe with malice and hatred.’
‘And I toast you, Ranulf-atte-Newgate.’ She put the cup to her lips and sipped. Her eyes rounded in alarm as Ranulf, with a vice-like grip, seized her hand. He stood up, pushed back her head, forcing more wine down her throat.
‘And Ranulf-atte-Newgate toasts you!’ he hissed. ‘You asked for wine, you bitch, now drink deep of the poison!’
She struggled but Ranulf held her fast.
‘You killed my friend, you malicious, murdering bitch! And, when I’ve finished with you, I’ll settle with Master Moth as well!’
Ranulf ignored the pounding on the door and Corbett’s yells from outside. He held the cup firm, his eyes glaring in fury.
‘Never trust a Plantagenet,’ he whispered. ‘Drink the poison. Go down to hell and tell the Lord Satan that I, Ranulf-atte-Newgate, sent you there!’
He drew his hand back. Lady Mathilda let the cup fall to her lap, the remains of the wine splashing out in a sinister stain. She rose to her feet, a hand to her throat.
‘There’s nothing you can do,’ Ranulf declared. ‘There’ll be no comfortable nunnery, no escape.’
Even as he went to the door, Lady Mathilda, hands clutching her stomach, sank to the floor. Ranulf looked round and he saw her jerk once or twice as he turned the key.
Corbett, Bullock and others were in the gallery outside. Ranulf stood aside and let them in. Corbett crouched by Lady Mathilda, feeling for the blood beat in her neck. He shook his head.
‘She was the King’s prisoner,’ Bullock declared softly.
‘You shouldn’t have done it!’ Corbett gripped Ranulf’s shoulder.
‘I carried out royal justice,’ Ranulf retorted. He drew a parchment from the pocket of his doublet and handed it to Corbett. ‘I received this from Simon the clerk,’ Ranulf explained. ‘I have done nothing but what the King has ordered though, I must admit, I enjoyed it.’
Corbett read the commission.
To the Sheriff and Bailiffs of the town and our city of Oxford and to the proctors of the University, Edward the King sends greetings. Know you that, what our beloved and trusted clerk, Ranulf-Atte-Newgate, has done in and around the city of Oxford, he has done for the wellbeing of the Crown and the good governance of our realm. Given under our own hand, Teste me ipso, Edward the King.
The writ bore the imprint of the royal Privy Seal. Corbett handed it to Bullock.
‘So be it,’ the Sheriff murmured. ‘What the King wants, the King must have.’ He handed the parchment back.
Corbett grasped Ranulfs elbow to lead him out of the room.
‘What shall I do with her?’ Bullock shouted.
‘Bury her,’ Corbett replied. ‘Bury her fast. Let the priest sing a Mass.’
‘And Master Moth?’ Bullock got to his feet. ‘I read your postscript, my men are holding him downstairs.’
‘Take him to the castle,’ Corbett replied. ‘He’s not to be manhandled or abused. You are to await the King’s pleasure.’
He led Ranulf further down the corridor.