Hugh Corbett 14 - The Magician's Death by Paul Doherty Read Free Book Online Page B

she stood on tiptoe to greet Corbett before introducing what Corbett knew would be the source of Ranulf’s astonishment, her truly beautiful daughter. Constance was tall and willowy, her glorious auburn hair plaited under a bejewelled net. She wore a pelisse across her shoulders, and her dark tawny dress ringed a swan-like neck. But it was her face which Corbett found so beautiful; oval, with pale ivory skin, perfect features made all the more exquisite by calm sea-grey eyes. Corbett winked at Ranulf, who now realised why his master had told him he would be surprised, and so to be careful to observe all the courtly etiquette at Corfe.
    Once protocol had been observed, Sir Edward insisted on taking Corbett and his party on a swift tour of the keep and inner ward, introducing them to officers of the garrison. Ranulf, reluctantly bidding the Lady Constance farewell, had no choice but to follow. Corbett became aware of how truly powerful the castle really was, with its mailed force of knights, men-at-arms and archers, as well as a company of Welsh longbowmen trained to deliver massed volleys of their goose-quilled yard-long shafts. He became breathless as they climbed the keep and the towers of the inner bailey. He and his party were to be lodged in the Salt Tower, which lay to the east of the keep, a collection of rather shabby chambers furnished with the bare necessities. Launge apologised, saying he had done what he could. Corbett’s chamber was on the second floor of the tower, while his three companions would share a chamber above. He brushed aside Sir Edward’s apologies and pronounced himself satisfied; his room was circular, its walls lime-washed, the wooden floor covered in rugs. A four-poster bed stood in the centre of the chamber, warmed and protected by dyed woollen drapes. There was a table, chairs, stools and a chest for his belongings, as well as a sufficiency of candles and lanterns as the window was a simple square, closed by a wooden board. He realised Launge had tried to make it as comfortable as possible; at least the chamber had a hearth built against the outside wall, with small-wheeled braziers either side.
    ‘I have reserved the best chamber above the long hall for the Seigneur de Craon.’ Sir Edmund raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘Though personally I would like to throw him into the moat.’
    Corbett laughed and stood aside as Chanson, helped by castle servants, brought in his belongings, along with his precious chancery coffer, which Corbett insisted on immediately placing in the iron-bound chest at the foot of the bed.
    ‘It’s the stoutest in the castle,’ Launge explained. ‘Your chancery coffer arrived yesterday escorted by a troop of lancers, and spent the night in my strongroom. That chest is just as safe.’
    ‘It’s just what I want.’ Corbett patted the Constable affectionately on the shoulder and went up the spiral staircase to inspect his companions’ quarters.
    Afterwards, Corbett, Ranulf and Bolingbroke met with the constable in the council chamber, a long, low-ceilinged room on the ground floor of the keep. It was so ill lit by the narrow loopholes and arrow slits that the air was thick with the smoke from candles and torches. Sir Edmund ordered the doors to be closed, waving Corbett to one end of the heavy oaken table. He served them some ale, bread and cheese, then sat on Corbett’s right, facing Ranulf and Bolingbroke. He asked about the King, and Corbett replied tactfully. He didn’t think it was appropriate to inform Sir Edmund about the King’s sudden rages at being trapped in a peace treaty with Philip of France.
    ‘What problems do you have here, Sir Edmund? The fortress is well manned; you have many soldiers.’
    ‘Drawn in from outlying garrisons,’ the Constable replied.
    ‘And the reason?’
    ‘Flemish pirates, a swarm of them, have been seen off the foreland; they are packed in herring ships guarded by cogs of war. According to rumour they have been raiding