Free Spy in Chancery by Paul C. Doherty Page A

scrolls and scraps of parchment. Finally, he picked one up, examined its tag, grunted and beckoned to Corbett. 'Here it is, you cannot take it away, but stay and read it here.' Corbett winked at Couville and, taking the scroll, sat at the great oak table to study it.
    The manuscript consisted of small sheets of vellum stitched together, all transcribed in mauve ink by the same clerkly hand. Corbett could guess how it was done: each individual would write, or have written, his own tetter before submitting it to the Chancery who would examine them to ensure they gave away no information prejudicial to the crown. The royal clerk would then transcribe the letters, making a fair copy before despatching the letters to France, sealed in a red, Spanish leather Chancery pouch while the copies were stitiched together with twine and stored away.
    Corbett quickly scanned the sheets and felt a wave of compassion sweep through him; the letters invariably short, were filled with sorrow and tears as parents wrote to children, brother to brother, cousin to cousin. One of the longest was from Tuberville to his two sons. His anguish and hatred of the French were apparent, the letter, dated January, the Feast of Saint Hilary, 1295, regretted they had not spent Christmas together but he had bought them Saint Christopher medals, a wolfhound named Nicholas and, when they returned, he would hold a great feast in some local tavern. Corbett searched on until he found Richmond's letter, a stark contrast to Tuberville's, the Earl's relationship with his daughter was cold: the Earl was formal, distinct and, most interestingly, kept referring darkly to some 'secret matter'.
    Corbett, satisfied, rolled the parchment up and handed it back to Ap Rees. 'Thank you,' he smiled at Couville and nodded. 'We'll meet again, take care.' The old man beamed a toothless smile, Corbett touched him gently on the cheek and walked out into the passageway. Corbett would have exchanged a month's fees to discover Richmond's 'dark secret' and was now determined to question the Earl; not caring whether he was a rather arrogant relation of the King.
    When Corbett returned to Thames Street it was dark, lantern horns had been lit and hung outside certain houses, revellers, half drunk on cheap ale and their own pleasure, burst from a tavern shouting loudly in the street. Corbett felt the hilt of the dagger stuck in his belt and gently eased his way past them. They hurled abuse but he was through and, with a sigh of relief, reached his own house and climbed the dark, twisting staircase. A decidedly dejected Ranulf was already lighting rushlights and long white beeswax candles. Corbett asked him how things were, but only received mumbled sentences in reply. Corbett quietly smiled, Ranulf's mood meant the evening meal of wine and cold meats would be a deadly silent one.
    Corbett did not mind for once the table was cleared, he left Ranulf to his own devices while he took his writing tray from a large casket and began to jot down on a scrap of parchment his conclusions and suspicions.
    Item: There was a traitor on Edward's council who gave secrets to the French and communicated with the King's enemies in Wales.
    Item: Waterton, the clerk, was half-French, his father had been a supporter of Earl Simon de Montfort, an inveterate opponent of Edward. Despite de Montfort's cruel death some thirty years ago, his memory was still revered in many quarters, especially in London.
    Item: Waterton seemed wealthy, he acted suspiciously in Paris, being favoured by Philip as well as secretly meeting the French King's spy-master, Amaury de Craon.
    Item: Waterton had been recommended to the King by the Earl of Richmond, his former patron and employer. Richmond had disastrously lost the war in Gascony, he, too, was half-French and a member of the council.
    Corbett reviewed the list and sighed. It was all very well, he thought, but important questions remained unanswered:
    Item: Who was the traitor? Was it