Spy in Chancery

EIGHTEEN

De Craon was true to his word, the warrants were ready, as was a small military escort hand-picked by de Craon himself.

Throughout their journey across the early autumn Norman countryside Corbett was careful to keep his thoughts to himself and continue to act as if he was the bearer of bad news. Ranulf and Hervey were delighted to be returning to England but Ranulf knew enough about his master's moods to remain silent and not try to vex him with idle chatter. The captain of the escort, a burly Breton, watched the English envoy carefully, being secretly instructed to do so by de Craon himself. De Craon believed that Corbett knew something but could not fathom what it was. However, throughout the journey, the clerk's sad demeanour and apparent agitation made the escort relax and at Boulogne the captain sent a courier back to de Craon with a verbal message that the English envoy continued to behave as if he dreaded the coming meeting with his royal master in England. They were put aboard a merchant cog bound for Dover and from there Corbett was able to secure horses to travel to London.

If his journey back had been quiet and uneventful, the subsequent interview with Edward of England was a stark contrast. Hervey and Ranulf were not allowed into the royal chamber but Corbett attended the meeting, grateful at least that the King had decided to have Edmund of Lancaster also present. Edward heard Corbett out, before bursting into one of his famous royal rages. Tables and stools were overturned, manuscripts thrown and rushes kicked as Edward stormed around the room calling Philip of France every filthy name Corbett knew and a few he did not.

'That man,' Edward roared, 'is a danger to Europe and threatens our very crown. He would like his own misbegotten grandson on my throne! He intends to build an empire which rivals Caesar's or even Charlemagne's, but he will not.' The King's rage lasted for an hour before he eventually calmed down.

He drank deeply from a wine bowl before crossing to Corbett and bringing both of his jewelled-bedecked hands slapping down on the clerk's shoulders. Corbett stared into his blue red-flecked eyes.

'Corbett,' the King rasped, 'You are the bearer of very bad news. I understand that in ancient times such a messenger would be promptly executed. I am almost tempted to carry that out myself. At other times and on other occasions I couldn't care what Philip intends to do for his blessed daughter but you know, Master Clerk, that any attempt we make to break free from the Pope's arbitration would be immediately reported to Philip by the spy or spies who now sit at our very council.' The King pushed his face close to Corbett, who stared back unflinchingly. 'You have come home,' the King said, 'not only bearing these bad tidings but with your guess, your reasonable deductions, that Waterton is not the spy.'

Corbett controlled the panic he felt and coolly stared back at the King.

'Your Grace,' he replied, 'I have always served you, your crown, your family. I went to France with careful instructions given to me by your brother,' he turned and nodded to where Lancaster slouched anxiously against a wall, 'I had no choice but to accept Philip's terms. It is one way you will have the duchy returned.'

'It is one way I get the duchy returned!' Edward mimicked, 'For God's sake, Corbett, don't you realise that as long as a spy is on our council any secret we discuss, any attempt to outmanoeuvre Philip, will be brought to nothing.'

Corbett cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. 'I cannot,' he began, grateful that the King had now removed his hands from his shoulders and walked back to sit on a chair. 'I cannot,' he repeated, 'allow Waterton to go to the scaffold. I believe he is a love-sick, rather stupid young man, but not a traitor. However, your Grace, before you pass judgement on me I do have other news but I must have your word that you do not challenge or question me.'

Edward accepted that with an airy wave of his hand. Corbett paused. 'I know who the traitor is!' he announced. Edward shot up in his chair as if struck by a blow while the look on Lancaster's face was one of pure astonishment.

'Who is he, Corbett?' the King asked quietly. 'Who is the misbeggoten cur?'

'I know,' Corbett replied coolly, 'but I cannot give you the name. You must give me time, your Grace. I need evidence and I know where to look.'

The King rose and walked slowly over to Corbett. 'I promise you, Hugh,' he said; 'that if you deliver this man, you may ask for anything in my kingdom and it will be yours. You have a week.'

Corbett bowed and left the chamber. Once the door had closed behind him he leaned against the cold brickwork as he tried to control the trembling of his own body while fervently hoping that he could keep his promise to the King.

The next day Corbett returned to the Palace of Westminster. Through Lancaster's intercession Water-ton was freed from the Tower, bathed, dressed, given a filling meal but kept under close guarded secrecy in a chamber in Westminster Palace well away from any prying eyes. Corbett visited him, placating the clerk's hostility by pointing out that it was he who had managed to secure his release. He questioned Waterton very carefully about the council meetings, the procedures, who was present and, above all, what happened after the council meetings ended. It took some time. Waterton, like any clerk, attempted to dismiss the minor matters but Corbett knew these very petty details would provide the evidence to arrest the traitor.

After much questioning, probing, even a heated row, Corbett managed to confirm the suspicions he had formed in France, so he asked the chief clerk of the Chancery for copies of all letters and records, sent to France, both to the royal court as well as to the hostages. Over the next few days Corbett studied these, hardly leaving the chamber except to drink, eat or relieve himself. It took some time but, eventually, he had the evidence he needed and Corbett immediately demanded an audience with the King.

At Corbett's request Edward agreed to meet him in one of the rose gardens behind the Palace of Westminster, a small enclosure, the walls of the palace rising up on every side. Corbett usually loved the place with the roses in full bloom in their raised flower beds interspersed with small patches of herbs which, when crushed, gave off a fragrant smell but the King took one look at Corbett's face and realised that the clerk was blind to his surroundings and Edward was too cunning to push or try such a man's patience. Corbett was unshaven, his eyes red from lack of sleep, his garments stained due to hasty meals and a lack of time to bathe or even change. Edward gestured him to sit on one of the walls of the raised flower bed and sat alongside, almost as if they were two old friends rather than a king and a faithful retainer. Corbett asked the King to remain silent while he went through all the evidence he had collected and Edward did so, head bowed, hands in his lap, he listened like a priest Hearing the confession of a man who had not been shriven for years.

Corbett talked quietly but remorselessly, building up a picture of what had happened to Edward's army in Gascony and tracing all the developments since. The loss of English spies in Paris, the destruction of the ship St. Christopher, his own adventures there, his suspicions and why he had eventually decided that this particular person was the traitor. He produced evidence, sheet after sheet of vellum with carefully written conclusions which Edward studied. When Corbett finally finished, the King, head in hands, could hardly believe it.

Corbett watched him nervously. Edward was a strange man, on the one hand, hard, ruthless, he would without any compunction, order men, women and even children to be slain in a town which had resisted him. On the other, he was almost like a child, if he trusted someone he expected that trust to be returned and could never understand why people broke their word. The person Corbett named had not only broken the oath of fealty and loyalty but friendship and trust as well.

Edward asked one question. 'Are you certain, Corbett?' and the clerk answered it with his own.

'Are you sure, your Grace?'

The King nodded. 'I am,' he replied quietly. 'He is undoubtedly a traitor. Any court in Christendom would accept the evidence you have offered and sent him immediately to the scaffold. If it is to be done,' a note of hardness crept into the King's voice, 'then it had best be done quickly.' He called out and a retainer appeared at a small doorway which led into the palace. He came across to the King who whispered a few instructions into the man's ear. The man looked starded, but Edward repeated them fiercely. The retainer nodded and walked quickly away.

While they waited the King just sat staring moodily into the distance as Corbett, for the final time, went over in his own mind the evidence he had acquired. The King was right, the man was a traitor and deserved to die but he still dreaded the coming meeting. Sir Thomas Tuberville stepped into the garden and the King beckoned him over to sit on the wall opposite him.

'Sir Thomas,' the King began, 'You are to arrrest the traitor.'

Tubervilie looked surprised. 'I thought we already had, your Grace. Waterton, the clerk, he is in the Tower.'

'No! No!' the King answered. 'Waterton has been released. He is no more a traitor than Corbett here.'

'Then who?'

Corbett watched Tuberville's eyes narrow and the colour leave his face. Edward simply stretched out his hand and tapped Tuberviile gently on the leg.

'You know who, Sir Thomas. Yourself! You are the traitor!'

Tubervilie immediately sprang to his feet, his hand flying to the sword which hung from his belt.

'Sir Thomas,' the King said, 'Do not do that. If you look up at the windows surrounding the garden you will notice that there are royal crossbow men placed at every one. They have orders to shoot you, not to kill you, but wound you in the arm or leg and I promise you that will only be the beginning of your agonies.'

Tubervilie looked up and so did Corbett. The King was right. At every window, at every opening, they could see the glimpse of metal and a dash of colour, each representing a trained crossbow man, their evil weapons aiming directly down at Tuberville.

Tuberville slouched back on the wall and Corbett almost felt sorry for him. A sheen of sweat had appeared on the man's pale face and the knight was doing his best to stop his body from trembling.

'You have no evidence!' he said hoarsely. 'I served you, your Grace, well in Gascony. You know that.'

'We have every proof,' the King replied. 'Corbett has collected it.'

The clerk flinched at the look of pure hatred which Tuberville sent him.

'I knew you were a dangerous man, Corbett,' he rasped. 'But not this dangerous. If you think I am the traitor, then you must have the evidence, so why not tell me?'

'It's quite simple,' Corbett replied. 'I don't know why you became a traitor, Sir Thomas, but I know how. After you returned from Gascony you made a secret pact with Philip and the French court to supply information to them. The French knew that you were a knight of the royal household and were privy to secrets. They probably increased their demands when they knew that you were appointed to the post of the captain of the guard which protected the royal council chamber.'

'Exactly!' Tuberville exclaimed triumphantly. 'I was to guard the chamber, not be in it and listen to the King and his councillors discuss secret matters!'

'Ah,' Corbett answered, 'but when the council was over, Sir Thomas, it was you who tidied the council room up. Scraps of paper, memoranda, you even helped Waterton file and put them away and, of course, Waterton, with other things on his mind, was only too willing to allow you to finish these matters while he escaped from the palace and the possible enmity of the Earl of Richmond. Because,' Corbett continued remorselessly, 'you knew Waterton's secret. You became friends. He told you about his love for the Earl's daughter and the Earl's hostility towards him. You offered to protect him. When a council meeting was over and the minutes had been written and redrafted, it was Waterton's duty to write them out fully. You made sure that you were always there. After all,' Corbett remarked, 'why should Waterton be suspicious? In Gascony you had proved yourself to be one of the King's most able commanders, the only man who had attempted to break out of the French trap. You had a lot in common, a mutual hatred of Richmond which opened the door to royal secrets. Waterton did commit a crime but it was one of carelessness not malice.'

Corbett watched Tuberville's face and saw the tension in the man's eyes prove that he was correct.

'Tell him, Corbett,' the King began, 'Tell him how he sent the information to France.'

'Shall о tell you, Sir Thomas?' Corbett said, suddenly hating this man who had sent his friends and other Englishmen to cruel, unexpected deaths. 'You used your sons, the letters you wrote to them. They were cleverly written. They bore messages for your new French masters. When П visited your children in Paris they commented on how sometimes they could not understand the references you were making. I thought this when I first saw them. Full of strange comments, places and names, but there again, at the time, I thought this was simply a result of grief. However, de Craon proved that your letters were not a simple collection of pieces of advice and news. First, he seemed to remember the content of your letters very well. Rather strange, one of Philip's principal ministers should remember details of a letter an English knight had written some months ago to one of his young children in France.' Corbett paused and licked his lips, but hurried on before Tuberville could interrupt. 'So, when I came back to England, I studied one of your letters.' Corbett dug into his pouch and brought out a small piece of parchment. 'One sentence reads "the ship which sails from Bordeaux bringing me home to England from you". The next sentence begins "On October fourteenth I intend to go back to the Welsh march." The third sentence begins "The Saint Christopher which I have given you".' Corbett pauses and throws a look at Tuberville, whose face was now white with terror. 'And, finally, the next sentence begins "A dangerous occasion might arise".'

Corbett thrusts the piece of parchment into Tuber-ville's hands. 'The sentences are quite erratic,' the clerk continued. 'They give jumbled pieces of information. However, take the opening, words of each sentence and you suddenly have your message to the French: that the ship called Saint Christopher is leaving Bordeaux on fourteenth October and because of that a dangerous occasion might arise. De Craon is not the most intelligent of men but the message was quite simple. The Saint Christopher was carrying messages to our King which might prove dangerous to the French. You passed this information on and the Saint Christopher was stopped and sunk with a loss of all hands. The King lost a ship as well as valuable information about his enemies abroad.'

Corbett threw the piece of parchment at Tuberville. 'You can go through others of your letters and they bear similar messages. You talk about travelling through Flanders yet you never intended to go there. Later, in the same letter, you actually refer to a friend called Aspale but no such friend exists. What you were doing was informing de Craon about a clerk, Robert Aspale, who has been sent to France to spy on our behalf.' Corbett stood up.

'You killed my friend, you killed others, you are a traitor and you deserve to die!'

Tuberville looked down at his hands which lay clenched in his lap. 'Is there any more?' he said.

'Oh, yes,' Corbett replied heatedly. 'There is more! I do not know what instructions the French gave you regarding Scotland but you were certainly in correspondence with that misbegotten rebel, the Lord Morgan! The King constantly sent messengers there insisting that the Lord Morgan keep his peace. You just ensured that you prepared the horse, using a special saddle, one with a secret cavity for your own treasonable messages. Waterton thought that was strange. The King's spy in Wales discovered this and so Morgan killed him. Now,' Corbett concluded drily, 'Do we have the evidence? As the King said,' and the clerk looked down where the King sat on the garden wall, 'The evidence we have will be acceptable before any court, English or French. You are the traitor! And for what? A bag of gold?'

'No!' Tuberville's head suddenly shot up, his eyes glaring at both Corbett and the King. 'Not gold!' He too rose, chest heaving to confront Corbett. 'I am not a traitor! I fought for the King in Gascony! I served him here at home but that misbegotten noble, the Earl of Richmond, he spoilt it all. He lost the army, he lost the province, he lost our honour and he had the impunity to accuse me of being rash, whereas his laziness and insolence were the biggest treasons of all. Because of him I was captured and led like some fool through the streets while the French laughed. Because of him I had to send my own children to France as hostages, and on my return to England Richmond scarcely punished, hardly reprimanded!' Tuberville glared down at the King. 'I believe you lost your own honour. Richmond should have died for what happened in Gascony!' Tuberville sat down again. 'While I was in Paris, de Craon visited me. He praised my courage in attempting to break out of the French encircling force. He also said my children would be sent to France as hostages but added he would take great care of them.

'Indeed, he made further promises about giving me lands and a manor house and being able to join them there, so I accepted. De Craon told me to garner any information I knew about the English troops on the south coast, or the King's intentions with regard to Gascony. When de Craon heard that I had been made captain of the guard protecting the royal council chamber, his promises were all the more lavish, that once Philip's terms had been accepted by Edward, I and my children would be created nobles in France and given extensive lands where I could begin a new life.'

The only thing you will begin,' the King interrupted harshly, 'is a sentence of imprisonment which will lead to a trial for high treason and execution according to the form and due process of law!' Edward's raised voice brought a group of soldiers into the garden. The King looked up. 'I trusted you, Sir Thomas, I advanced your career. I would have looked after you. Richmond has been punished for his incompetence in France, but I always draw a line between mistakes and malice, between carelessness and treason. You are a traitor, Sir Thomas, and will suffer the full rigours of the law!'

Tuberville just shrugged, east a look of hatred towards Corbett and, without making further resistance, allowed himself to be marched away.

'What will happen to him?' Gorbett asked.

'He will stand trial,' the King replied, 'Before his peers and my judges at Westminster Hall. The evidence you have accumulated will send him to the execution block. He will be hanged, drawn and quartered. A warning to any other person who even thinks of committing treason in my realm! Waterton alone will demand that,' the King added bitterly. 'It was clever, very clever of de Craon to arrange events to throw the blame on him.' He looked sharply at Corbett. 'Were you always convinced that Waterton was innocent?'

'Yes, yes, I think I was,' the clerk replied slowly. 'Something in my heart which became clearer when П met Richmond's daughter in Paris but, really, de Craon told me. I watched his face that day in the great council chamber when your brother announced that we had discovered and arrested the traitor. I saw the flicker of delight in de Craon's face and eyes. He must have known we had arrested the wrong man and so he betrayed himself. During Lancaster's embassy to France,' Corbett continued, 'de Craon deliberately misled me. He favoured Waterton so as to arouse our suspicions.'

'But de Craon tried to kill you in Paris.'

'Just to throw suspicion on Waterton, the same applies to the French seal left in our diplomatic pouches..It was put there by de Craon, who also fed similar lies to his Scottish allies in the hope they would be passed on to you.'

The King nodded and stared at a rose in full bloom. He could scarcely believe what he had heard and seen. Tuberville a traitor! And such a devious one. God knows, the King thought, what a proper study of his letters would reveal. No wonder the Scottish and Welsh rebels had been so arrogant in their defiance. Edward glared at the rose as he plotted his revenge.

Corbett broke the ensuing silence by going down on one knee in front of the King.

'Your Grace,' he said. 'You did promise me that if I found the traitor, I could ask for anything in your kingdom.'

Edward looked down slyly.

'I was angry then, Master Corbett. And it is wrong to quote a prince's words back to him, words which were said in the heat of the moment.'

Corbett smiled wanly. 'And the psalmist says "Put not your trust in princes", your Grace. Is this an example of it?'

Edward laughed softly. 'No, no, Hugh. I keep my word.'

'Good,' Corbett said. 'There are two things I wish, your Grace. First, for Tuberville's punishment to be commuted, let him be executed, let him be hanged, not the drawing and the quartering, the dismembering of a man's body. Justice does not demand that.'

The King looked up at the blue sky. 'Your request is granted,' he replied sharply, 'There is something else?'

'Yes,' Corbett continued, 'The Lord Morgan in Wales.'

'The Lord Morgan in Wales,' Edward interrupted harshly 'has already felt my displeasure! I have moved troops down from Caernarvon and Caerphilly Castles. They are all over the Lord Morgan's estates as well as the surrounding countryside. I doubt if that Welshman will ever give me further trouble!'

'It's not the Lord Morgan,' Corbett interrupted rather abruptly, 'But his niece, the Lady Maeve.'

Edward looked sharply at Corbett before throwing his head back and guffawing with laughter.

It is funny, Hugh,' he said, 'that you ask me about her, because we received a message from Lord Morgan along with one from his niece. Lord Morgan humbly submitted to our peace and begs for pardon for any mistakes or crimes he may have made. Of course, I will grant it after a while, but the Lady Maeve'smessage was much more simple. We were asked to give you this.'

The King dug into his purse and drew out the ring that Corbett had last seen in Maeve's hand, on the beach outside Neath Castle.

'She sent you this,' the King dropped the ring into Corbett's hand and smiled at the clerk's evident disappointment.

'Oh, there was a message, Master Clerk. The Lady Maeve wrote in support of her uncle's pleas for clemency, adding the postscript that she enclosed the ring for you in the hope that you would return it to her personally so that she could keep it for ever.'

Corbett just smiled, though his heart danced with joy. Still kneeling, he took the King's hand and kissed the ring.

'Do I have your permission, your Grace?'

'Of course,' the King said. 'Provided you are back in London for Tuberville's trial.'

It was a cold October morning, the palace yard at Westminster was packed to overflowing, the crowd pressing in around the great scaffold, as if they were all trying to draw warmth from the huge, black, iron brazier which burned there. Corbett was present, Ranulf beside him. All of London, the great lords and ladies in their silks and costly raiment. Corbett had come at the King's command. He did not like executions but felt he would have to see this matter through to the bitter end.

Tuberville had been tried before a special commission of gaol delivery. He had confessed to all his crimes and sentence had been pronounced by the Chief Justice, Roger de Brabazon, the principal judge of King's Bench. Edward, however, kept his word, the sentence being commuted to one of simple hanging. There were to be none of the terrible severities of disembowelling, burning, beheading and quartering suffered recently by Prince David of Wales.

After sentence Tuberville had been taken to the Tower and, early on this dark October morning, he had been brought back from the Tower to Westminster mounted on a poor hack, his feet bound under the horse's belly, his hands tied in front of him. Around him had ridden six tormentors dressed like devils. One of them held the hack's rein, another the halter in which Tuberville would hang whilst the rest baited and goaded their prisoner. Tuberville, dressed in full knightly regalia, had first been taken in to Westminster Hall to receive judgement and now, before sentence was carried out, he was to be degraded.

A scaffold had been erected just outside the main door of Westminster Hall, a raised stand where the judges sat and alongside them a rough post on which Tuberville's shield hung upside down, now smeared with black pitch and animal dung.

There was a blast from the trumpets. The doors opened and the heralds brought Tuberville out dressed in complete armour and wearing all the decorations of his knightly orders. Priests took up position on either side of the scaffold and began to intone the Vigil for the dead. As each psalm ended, the heralds stripped one piece of the prisoner's armour, beginning with his helmet, finally, the man was naked except for a loincloth. Tuberville's reversed shield was then taken down and broken into three pieces and a bowl of dirty water mixed with animal piss was emptied over Tuberville's head.

Once the ceremony was over, a loud sigh escaped from the throats of the crowd, rocks were hurled, abuse called, while the executioners took over. Tuberville was hustled to the gound and tied to a hurdle made out of ox hide. This was fastened to six horses who would drag it all the way from Westminster to the conduit in Cheapside and then back to the gallows, the Elms at Smithfield. Corbett was pleased that the King had not passed an act of attainder against Tuberville's family, consequently the traitor knight's sons would still be allowed to inherit their property and not suffer for the sins of their father. He was even more glad now as he watched Tuberville accept with quiet dignity all the insults and humiliations now heaped upon him. Tuberville was fastened onto the ox hide, his body already bruised and cut by the rocks thrown at him and Corbett closed his eyes as the hangman brought down his hand on the rump of one of the horses and the macabre procession, preceded by the tormentors, made its way down to the execution ground, the crowd surging after, shouting and laughing.

Corbett knew how it would end. He looked up at the darkening sky, the clouds scudding in over the Thames. Tuberville would be taken to the scaffold and there hanged until dead. His body would then be encased in chains and put in some public place as a warning to all who committed treason against the King. Corbett did not have enough malice inside him to watch the poor man's death agonies. Instead, he turned away and took joy in the thought that Maeve would soon be in London. Her uncle, the Lord Morgan, had to make his peace personally with the King. He had written to Edward saying that he would be in England by the Feast of All Saints, the beginning of November, Maeve would be with him. Corbett quietly said a 'Miserere' for Tuberville's soul which would soon be speeding its way to God. He also said a prayer for himself that perhaps Maeve might thaw the winter in his own heart.