coastal villages in Cornwall, Devon and Dorset.’
Corbett drank his ale and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach. Pirates, sheltering in the ports of the Low Countries, were a constant threat, but why had these appeared now? Did it have anything to do with his meeting de Craon at Corfe Castle? Corbett had many spies in Hainault, Flanders and Brabant, port officials and sailors who provided him with information about these pirates. They were financed by merchants, powerful men in cities like Dordrecht who secured letters patent from their rulers to harass other countries’ shipping in the Narrow Seas. They could also be hired by foreign princes, as Edward of England had often done in his wars against France, Scotland and Wales. Had they been employed now by Philip of France, or was this just the normal pirate activity which plagued the southern coast of England?
‘You are worried, Sir Hugh?’
‘Of course I am. Have they been seen off Corfe?’
Sir Edmund shook his head. ‘This castle is too powerful. Why throw yourself against the rocks when you can gather a richer harvest in the fishing villages to the west?’
‘And what else?’ Corbett insisted. ‘I heard rumours about young maids being brutally murdered.’
Sir Edmund put his face in his hands. ‘If God be known, I wish they were rumours. Five corpses in all, killed at close range by a crossbow bolt.’ He removed his hands and took a deep breath. ‘Three of the corpses were found in midden heaps in the castle wards; two were found outside, one near the moat, the other in the approaches leading to the eastern postern gate.’
‘When did these murders begin?’
‘About two months ago . . . yes, it must be.’ Sir Edmund chewed the corner of his lip. ‘The first was found after Michaelmas, a castle girl who served at the nearby inn, the Tavern in the Forest.’
‘Three corpses found in the castle?’ Ranulf asked. ‘Two outside? The murderer must be someone who lives here.’
Sir Edmund glared at this red-haired clerk. ‘I have reached the same conclusion myself, sir.’
‘No offence.’ Ranulf smiled, eager to placate the father of the beautiful woman he had just met and couldn’t forget.
‘My officers and I have investigated.’ Sir Edmund took a deep breath. ‘All five girls were from the castle. You know how it is. Corfe is a small village in itself; we have a leech, who also acts as an apothecary, we have a small market, a chapel served by old Father Andrew. People come and go: traders, tinkers, pedlars, the moon people and the road folk, the wanderers, the tinkers.’
Corbett held his hands up, fingers splayed. ‘But five corpses?’ The Constable was unable to hold his gaze. ‘Five corpses in what, the space of two months? This bloody work can’t be laid at the door of some itinerant. The assassin must live somewhere close, perhaps only a short walk from this room.’
Corbett pressed against the table, pushed back his chair and went across to one of the loopholes, standing on a ledge to peer out. He felt tired and sweaty; the fug in the room was thick. He had slept badly the night before, whilst the journey had been cold and hard. He did not relish his meeting with de Craon and was alarmed at the reports Bolingbroke had brought from Paris. And now this! Corbett thought of similar murders he had encountered in Suffolk and elsewhere, evil men hunting down young girls, slaughtering them like a weasel would birds in a farmyard, falling on them like a hawk would a dove. There had been murders like this in London; even the Royal Council . . .
‘Sir Hugh?’
‘I was thinking.’ Corbett returned to the table, patting Ranulf on the shoulder and glancing at Bolingbroke, who was half asleep in his chair. ‘I was thinking,’ Corbett repeated, sitting down, ‘of similar murders. They have been discussed even at Westminster. Young women being slaughtered, often abused, their bodies thrown into a river, sometimes even buried
Corbett drank his ale and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach. Pirates, sheltering in the ports of the Low Countries, were a constant threat, but why had these appeared now? Did it have anything to do with his meeting de Craon at Corfe Castle? Corbett had many spies in Hainault, Flanders and Brabant, port officials and sailors who provided him with information about these pirates. They were financed by merchants, powerful men in cities like Dordrecht who secured letters patent from their rulers to harass other countries’ shipping in the Narrow Seas. They could also be hired by foreign princes, as Edward of England had often done in his wars against France, Scotland and Wales. Had they been employed now by Philip of France, or was this just the normal pirate activity which plagued the southern coast of England?
‘You are worried, Sir Hugh?’
‘Of course I am. Have they been seen off Corfe?’
Sir Edmund shook his head. ‘This castle is too powerful. Why throw yourself against the rocks when you can gather a richer harvest in the fishing villages to the west?’
‘And what else?’ Corbett insisted. ‘I heard rumours about young maids being brutally murdered.’
Sir Edmund put his face in his hands. ‘If God be known, I wish they were rumours. Five corpses in all, killed at close range by a crossbow bolt.’ He removed his hands and took a deep breath. ‘Three of the corpses were found in midden heaps in the castle wards; two were found outside, one near the moat, the other in the approaches leading to the eastern postern gate.’
‘When did these murders begin?’
‘About two months ago . . . yes, it must be.’ Sir Edmund chewed the corner of his lip. ‘The first was found after Michaelmas, a castle girl who served at the nearby inn, the Tavern in the Forest.’
‘Three corpses found in the castle?’ Ranulf asked. ‘Two outside? The murderer must be someone who lives here.’
Sir Edmund glared at this red-haired clerk. ‘I have reached the same conclusion myself, sir.’
‘No offence.’ Ranulf smiled, eager to placate the father of the beautiful woman he had just met and couldn’t forget.
‘My officers and I have investigated.’ Sir Edmund took a deep breath. ‘All five girls were from the castle. You know how it is. Corfe is a small village in itself; we have a leech, who also acts as an apothecary, we have a small market, a chapel served by old Father Andrew. People come and go: traders, tinkers, pedlars, the moon people and the road folk, the wanderers, the tinkers.’
Corbett held his hands up, fingers splayed. ‘But five corpses?’ The Constable was unable to hold his gaze. ‘Five corpses in what, the space of two months? This bloody work can’t be laid at the door of some itinerant. The assassin must live somewhere close, perhaps only a short walk from this room.’
Corbett pressed against the table, pushed back his chair and went across to one of the loopholes, standing on a ledge to peer out. He felt tired and sweaty; the fug in the room was thick. He had slept badly the night before, whilst the journey had been cold and hard. He did not relish his meeting with de Craon and was alarmed at the reports Bolingbroke had brought from Paris. And now this! Corbett thought of similar murders he had encountered in Suffolk and elsewhere, evil men hunting down young girls, slaughtering them like a weasel would birds in a farmyard, falling on them like a hawk would a dove. There had been murders like this in London; even the Royal Council . . .
‘Sir Hugh?’
‘I was thinking.’ Corbett returned to the table, patting Ranulf on the shoulder and glancing at Bolingbroke, who was half asleep in his chair. ‘I was thinking,’ Corbett repeated, sitting down, ‘of similar murders. They have been discussed even at Westminster. Young women being slaughtered, often abused, their bodies thrown into a river, sometimes even buried
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