Crown in Darkness

escort out of Scotland. 'Yes, there is something!' Corbett suddenly remembered the widow, Joan Taggart, surrounded by her hungry, frightened children. 'There is a woman, the widow of the boatman whom Benstede killed, she lives near Queensferry. Now she and her children starve.' 'You have my word,' the Bishop replied. 'They will be well looked after. Now!' he added briskly, 'you must be gone, Clerk, in forty-eight hours.' Corbett sketched a bow and left the old Bishop, the echoes of his steps ringing round the small, empty church.
    The Prior and his monks were disconsolate at Corbett's abrupt departure. They had grown accustomed to his eccentric, secretive ways, his sudden and mysterious comings and goings, his help in the library and scriptorium. 'We shall miss you, Hugh," the Prior said. 'We wish you a safe journey. I am sending two of my lay brothers with you, they will carry letters of safe conduct. No enemy, English or Scots, would dare attack a man under the protection of the Abbey of Holy Rood!' Corbett smiled and embraced the Prior, feeling his fragile, bony shoulders beneath the grey, fustian robe. 'What with your letters and Sir James's men, who undoubtedly await me beyond the abbey, I shall be safe.' Corbett clasped the Prior's hands, said his farewells and soon he, a relieved Ranulf and two lay brothers from the abbey, were clear of Edinburgh riding south-east for the border with England. Behind him, fanned out in a line like a long shadow were Sir James Selkirk's men, despatched to ensure the troublesome English clerk left Scotland for good.
    Corbett travelled through the Lammermuir Hills, now in their full summer glory. Oak trees, pines and beeches covered the hillsides and escarpments, whose flanks were scored and gouged by narrow, fish-filled streams. Corbett was content, at peace now he was leaving the dark intrigue of Edinburgh. He was conscious of the soldiers shadowing him but they kept their distance. Corbett travelled light and therefore fast. At night they sheltered under trees or in the byres and barns of solitary farms and shepherd-holdings. Four days after they left Edinburgh, their horses passed the dark mass of Berwick and splashed across the Tweed into England.
    Beneath the huge, Norman keep of Norham Castle, built on a great crag above the river, Corbett said farewell to the lay brothers and made his way up the craggy promontory into the fortress. The Constable, a grizzled, wiry-haired soldier, was waiting for him in the outer bailey, with others wearing the livery of the Chancellor standing around him. 'Master Corbett, clerk to the King's Bench?' the man barked. 'The same,' Corbett replied, dismounting from his horse. 'The Chancellor is here?' 'Yes,' the Constable replied. 'He is waiting. Please follow me!' Corbett told Ranulf to make himself comfortable and followed the soldier up into the great keep.
    Burnell, plump and wheezing, his soft, flabby hands constantly mopping his completely bald head, met him at the door of the castle's solar and, thanking the Constable, personally escorted Corbett into the gaunt, deserted room. It was a bleak granite, timber-roofed chamber dominated by a stone-built fireplace and long, oval-shaped windows. The furniture was scanty; a long oak table, heavy chairs like church benches and great iron-bound chests. There was a tray with a jug of wine and simple pewter cups on the table. Burnell filled two of them and beckoned to Corbett. 'Come, Hugh, it is good to see you. We will sit in the window-seat and catch the breezes. An ideal place from which you can watch both England and Scotland. You received my letters? I received yours,' he added, not waiting for a reply. Corbett sat and, at the Chancellor's invitation, told his master everything. He did not omit any details, he was not fooled by the fat, flabby bishop who sat alongside him, his razor-sharp mind would not miss anything. The Bishop, slurping his wine, let the clerk speak, interrupting now and again with the occasional terse question or comment. Outside, a linnet sang while it wheeled in its own splendour against the gold, sun-filled sky. Corbett stopped talking, watched it for a while and then quietly concluded. 'There is no more. So now, why was I sent there?' Burnell cleared his throat. 'First,' he replied, 'have no worries about Benstede. I know Bishop Wishart and I believe Benstede will never be allowed to leave Scotland alive. As for the Scots, I doubt very much whether you will ever set foot