by Paul Doherty
‘Sir Hugh?’
Corbett just shook his head.
‘You know,’ Bavasour continued, ‘that the Black Chesters are only one coven amongst many.’
‘What?’
‘Oh yes, according to our troubadour, such covens form a web like that of a giant spider, a net of wickedness that extends all over Scotland into England and beyond. He claimed that Richolda and Leonora, those two daughters of Satan, were mere peasants in the hierarchy of evil. Apparently they are led by a great earl of the underworld who styles himself Paracelsus, a truly sinister soul who journeys the kingdoms of earth on Satan’s business.’ Bavasour drank greedily from his goblet. ‘Believe me, Sir Hugh, this Paracelsus, from the little I have learnt, wields tremendous power; he is feared as if he is the Great Cham of Tartary, his word life or death.’
‘But you have never seen his shape or form or witnessed the power he wields?’
‘No, but the claims made for him are truly fabulous. How he has read a secret manuscript called The Key of Solomon and discovered the secret of how to shut up in a bottle of black glass a million Satanic spirits together with seventy-two of their kings. He can draw the circle of hell and pollute the air with the sooty stench of Satan. According to the minstrel, who later disappeared and was never seen again, Paracelsus has a demon as a familiar, a slave from hell to do his bidding. But,’ Bavasour shrugged, ‘these could be just hearthside tales.’
‘Has Paracelsus ever been seen entering Blanchlands?’
‘Not that I recall.’
‘So how does he meet his followers?’
‘Oh, you mean those daughters of darkness Richolda and Leonora? Well, we have seen them leave with an escort of mailed men. They return, but who they’ve met and where they have been, I don’t know.’
‘But surely the local priest, the castle chaplain must have intervened?’
‘Sir Hugh anybody who objects to the Black Chesters, be he priest or peasant, simply disappears. I am nothing but a hired sword. I fight here, I travel there. I leave the likes of the Black Chesters well alone.’
‘And the attack on Alnwick?’
‘The Black Chesters were hot for it. I know that from the discussions in the great hall. The attack was well planned. Darel sent messages across the march asking the Scots for help, Douglas and Randolph, Bruce’s closest henchmen, responded. They sent fighting men south as well as carts loaded with the engines of war together with carpenters skilled in putting them together.’
‘That was swift. I mean, given the time between our arrival here and the attack.’
‘Sir Hugh, Darel and the Scots have been planning such an assault for some time. Bruce’s array is not far from the border; they are making good progress. Those engines of war Darel used have all been seized from castles that have fallen to Bruce. Now the Scottish war leader and his council greatly fear what Lord Henry is doing at Alnwick, building a mighty fortress so close to the border. It is said that Bruce intends to carry the war into England. He wants to launch forays, swift-moving chevauchées across England’s northern shires.’
‘Of course,’ Corbett agreed. ‘Alnwick will act as a great defence of the north. Bruce can’t afford to go around it. Lord Henry would pose a powerful threat to the flank and rear of any invading army.’
‘If Bruce fears Alnwick, so does Darel,’ Bavasour declared. ‘Alnwick might become a rival to Blanchlands. Like Lord Henry, Darel dreams dreams of becoming the lord of the north, carving a great fief out for himself.’
‘So the attack itself?’
‘We were reluctant, but Darel assembled his captains. He argued that we should assault Alnwick to divert the defenders from the real attack. Of course that surprised us. Even more so when Darel declared that he had discovered a secret passageway into Alnwick so the fortress could be taken by stealth.’
‘And how did he know this?’
‘Sir Hugh, we asked him the same question. Darel claimed he had a spy in Alnwick.’
‘Who?’
‘We pressed him on that.’ The mercenary paused, eyes closed, lips moving. ‘We demanded a name, and Darel gave some clever scholar’s answer. How the spy claimed to be the Alpha and the Omega – yes, that’s it. I kept repeating it to myself.’
‘The Alpha and the Omega.’ Corbett half smiled. ‘It’s Greek and it’s from the Book of Revelation, which deals with the confrontation between God and the Antichrist. The actual phrase is “I am the Alpha and Omega of all things, the Beginning and the End.”’
‘That’s all he would tell us.’
‘But the precise time and place?’
‘Ever since Richolda’s capture, Darel had been sending his scouts close to the castle. Apparently they received a crudely scrawled message that whoever delivered Darel’s defiance to Alnwick must also provide the time of the attack; proclaim it without allowing the defenders to understand.’
‘The end of the fourth watch,’ Ranulf murmured.
‘Correct,’ Bavasour agreed. ‘You would think that that was when the herald would return to demand your surrender, but it was, in fact, the time that Darel intended to attack. In the end it turned out to be very simple. We went to the old hermitage and sent scouts along the tunnel; they returned safely saying all was well.’ He paused to drink. ‘The rest you know. Darel launched his assault, myself and the other captains gathered with our men in the tunnel and cellar beneath the Abbot’s Tower. We broke out.’ He pulled a face. ‘We did not expect you to be waiting for us.’
‘On your way to the old hermitage,’ Corbett asked, ‘did you come across a corpse, a poor unfortunate who had been poisoned?’
‘Yes, we did. He was all buckled and prepared for battle, cloaked, booted and wearing a sword belt. He was dead; we could tell he’d been poisoned. We could not understand it. However, some of the Scottish swordsmen believed they recognised him as an enemy and insisted on stripping him. One of the Scots severed his head and placed it on a pole. I gave it little thought, being more concerned about our own attack.’
‘And Cacoignes?’ Corbett asked. ‘Geoffrey Cacoignes? He joined Darel’s retinue.’
‘And betrayed it,’ Bavasour snapped. ‘He must have done. A mercenary in every sense of the word. I gave him little thought. Only after Darel’s attack on your camp failed did we realise that he was gone and that he must have betrayed us. Before that,’ he spread his hands, ‘he was nothing special, one swordsman amongst many. After he joined you, however, a story began to emerge that he had been one of the old king’s men, that he’d been sent north to seize the Lily Crown from the abbey of Scone and take it south to Westminster. How he and his comitatus had been attacked and he, along with another, had escaped unscathed and made his way south to Tynemouth Priory.’
‘Somebody here at Alnwick must have told Darel who Cacoignes really was,’ Ranulf declared. ‘When he was with you, he went under a different name?’
‘Of course.’ Bavasour laughed. ‘Don’t we all!’
‘Darel may have been informed,’ Ap Ythel spoke up, ‘but there again, since he arrived in Alnwick, Cacoignes has made no attempt to hide himself, his name or his past.’
‘The Lily Crown?’ Corbett asked. ‘Do people still believe it’s at Tynemouth?’
‘Or here at Alnwick.’
‘What?’
‘That’s what rumour says.’ Bavasour preened himself at revealing something that had surprised the clerk. ‘There is a certain logic to it, Sir Hugh. Some of Darel’s men recognised Cacoignes’ name. You know he is related to the de Vescy family, who once owned Alnwick. Indeed, they say he spent some of his youth here at the castle; that he knows it well and the surrounding countryside too.’
Corbett glanced at Ranulf; the Clerk of the Green Wax just shook his head slightly. Corbett leaned over and grasped the mercenary’s arm. ‘You have nothing more to tell me, nothing else to say? Think, man. I am going to give you your life and freedom. Soon you will be gone from all of this. You have no knowledge of who the traitor mig
ht be here at Alnwick?’
Bavasour shook his head. Corbett watched him intently. A man’s face always betrayed a lie, and he had to ensure that this mercenary was trying to be as helpful as he could.
‘Sir Hugh,’ Bavasour chose his words carefully, ‘Blanchlands was rife with rumour, especially about Richolda and her kind. Somebody said that the inner coven of the Black Chesters was only twelve in number.’
‘Of course,’ Corbett breathed, ‘and if they are a coven, there must be thirteen . . .’
‘Was it someone else at Blanchlands?’ Ranulf demanded.
‘No, no.’ Bavasour grinned. ‘Believe it or not, rumour had it that the thirteenth lurks here at Alnwick.’
Satisfied that their guest, as Ranulf described Bavasour, could tell them no more, Corbett took the mercenary down into the shadow of the main barbican and told him to remain with Ranulf in the waiting chamber, a dark, murky room where visitors were detained until they received Lord Henry’s permission to enter his castle. Corbett himself hurried away. He collected clothing, weapons and a stout pair of boots, as well as a linen parcel of food and a small wineskin from the buttery, and returned to Bavasour telling him to get ready to leave as swiftly as possible.
Constable Thurston, summoned at Corbett’s insistence, agreed to give Bavasour a horse from the castle stables. The garron Chanson chose was the ugliest mount Corbett had ever seen. But Chanson, ignoring Bavasour’s mocking laughter, assured his master that the horse, despite its strange, almost yellowish colouring, shorn tail and clipped ear, was swift and sure-footed and would not be quickly winded. Harness and saddlery were provided and the horse was prepared for its journey.
Corbett insisted on leading Bavasour out under the porticullis and across the drawbridge. Once he was beyond hearing by any of the castle folk, he plucked at Bavasour’s sleeve, drawing him close.
‘Ride,’ he urged, pressing a silver coin along with a sealed parchment scroll into the mercenary’s calloused hand, ‘ride as fast as you can due west. Keep to the trackways, draw little attention to yourself. Once you reach Carlisle, you must seek an urgent meeting with my lord Andrew Harclay, Keeper of the Western March.’ Corbett passed Bavasour a copy of the Secret Seal. ‘Show him that, and give him my letter. Tell him to bring all his strength as swiftly as possible to Alnwick. If I am no longer here, he must press on to Tynemouth Priory. Tell my lord Harclay to do so under his allegiance to the king.
‘As for you, my friend,’ Corbett was standing so close he could smell Bavasour’s sweat, ‘do this and you will be rewarded: a full pardon and a charter appointing you a captain in the royal levy north of the Trent. Betray me,’ he shrugged, ‘and I will demand that you be hunted down as a wolfshead. Your task is urgent and important. What we are involved in here is vital to the Crown and its servants. Do you understand?’
Bavasour slipped coin, seal and scroll into his belt pouch, then offered his hand, which Corbett clasped. ‘You have my word, Sir Hugh, and if I fail, it will be because I lost my life trying not to.’
He mounted his horse. Corbett stood and watched him go before rejoining Ranulf in the castle bailey. He then returned to his own chamber, where Ap Ythel was waiting with Gaveston acting as his servant. Corbett locked and bolted the door after ensuring that Chanson was on guard in the gallery outside to shield against any eavesdropper, then sat down in the scribe’s chair.
‘The attack has failed,’ he murmured. ‘Bavasour told us a great deal. What concerns me is why Cacoignes, equally sharp-witted, could not have told us more.’ He gestured at the door. ‘Ranulf, tell Chanson to bring Cacoignes here. My lord Gaveston, I would be grateful if you could act the part of archer and stand outside. We have to be careful; despite your disguise, Cacoignes might well recognise you.’
A short while later, Cacoignes sat on a stool in Corbett’s chamber, cradling the goblet of Bordeaux Ranulf had poured for him.
‘You fared well during the attack, Master Cacoignes?’
‘Sir Hugh, I was deployed on the Falconer’s Tower; the fighting did not reach us.’ He toasted Ap Ythel with his goblet. ‘Thank God for your archers. They inflicted hideous damage on the attackers.’
‘I am glad you single out my comrade,’ Corbett declared. ‘Some five years ago, Ap Ythel was sent north to find you, isn’t that so?’ He turned to the Welshman, who now drew up a stool to sit alongside the wary Cacoignes.
‘We searched for you,’ Ap Ythel declared. ‘We tried to find out where you had been attacked and by whom, but it was a complete mystery.’
‘I have told the tale a number of times,’ Cacoignes retorted. ‘I survived. I don’t have the crown, because Ravinac hid it. Prior Richard will be able to help. He would have little to do with me.’
‘Just who are you, Master Cacoignes?’ Corbett leaned closer. ‘Where do you come from? What do you really want? I’ll be honest, there is an air of mystery about you.’
Cacoignes coloured visibly and breathed in noisily, patting his jerkin as if the heat was too much.
‘Do you know Alnwick?’ Corbett asked.
‘Look, look,’ Cacoignes spread his hands, ‘my mother was of de Vescy blood. Yes, I know Alnwick. I visited here as a boy. I played in the castle as children do. Afterwards, my parents placed me in this household or that. Eventually I was appointed to be a squire in Prince Edward’s retinue. I became versed in arms, nothing singular until I was chosen to ride along with Ravinac and others and the old king ordered us to seize the Lily Crown. We did so and were attacked.’
‘By whom?’
‘A Scottish war party, it must have been. Cowled and visored, dark-robed.’
‘Tell us the details,’ Corbett insisted. ‘Was it morning, noon or night?’
‘Very similar to what happened to you, Sir Hugh, on your journey north. We left Scone. Ravinac had the crown in a leather sack tied around his waist. He wouldn’t allow anyone to go near either him or the crown. On our first night out, we camped in the lea of a hill with bushes and gorse to protect us. We could light fires there without their glow being seen. We had guards, and I went out to ensure that all was well, and as far as I could see, all was. Darkness fell. A clear night with a good hunter’s moon.’ He paused. ‘I tell you this, the dark riders were in before we even knew about it, two score of them or thereabouts.’
‘So they must have been following you during the day. I mean, yours was a small party.’ Ap Ythel’s voice was challenging.
‘Yes, yes, they must have followed us. God knows how or why they chose our party. There were other groups taking Scottish regalia south; that was the old king’s strategy: small, fast-riding groups, each on their own.’ Cacoignes pulled a face. ‘We thought all would be well, but it ended in sword and dagger play, a wild melee of falling blades, rearing horses, all the noise and dust of battle. Ravinac and I broke free and fled for our lives.’
He paused, and Corbett watched him closely. Sometimes he could detect when a person was lying. Cacoignes was different. Corbett sensed that he was telling some of the truth but not all; there was a deep, dark shadow hovering over him and the eerie occurrence he was describing.
‘As I have said before,’ Cacoignes tried to hide his exasperation, ‘we reached Tynemouth. Prior Richard gave us shelter. Ravinac was not well; he fell ill and died. As far as I am concerned, the whereabouts of the Lily Crown died with him. I left, I was captured, I bided my time. Five years later, I escaped and joined Darel’s retinue under another name. I did this to protect myself. Moreover – and I freely admit to this – I remained in the north in the hope that one day I could return to Tynemouth and find the Lily Crown.’ He sipped from his wine, warming the cup between his hands. ‘The rest you know. I heard of your chevauchée north, as did Darel. He made his choices; so did I.’
‘And the Lily Crown, you heard no more of it?’
‘No, Sir Hugh, but let me tell you, when Ravinac and I reached Tynemouth, we were not alone. Lord Henry and Lady Eleanor, together with the Thurstons and Brothe
r Adrian, were also there. The Percys were in negotiations with the Bishop of Durham over the purchase of Alnwick. I decided there was company enough. I left to explore the surrounding countryside. I returned. The crown was hidden. Ravinac was dying. Lord Henry and the others had left. Eventually I followed suit. As I’ve said time and again, I do not know where he hid the crown. Perhaps he confided in Prior Richard.’
‘I find this strange.’ Corbett tapped his foot. ‘You go to Tynemouth, you leave, you return to Tynemouth, you leave. Why didn’t you just stay there, unless, of course, you believe Ravinac hid the crown somewhere else?’
‘That is a possibility, but remember what was happening in the north five years ago. The rot had begun, the collapse of law and order. Tynemouth is a well-fortified citadel, but the countryside around it was certainly not in the king’s peace. War bands, mercenaries, wolfsheads and peasants driven out of their farms prowled the roads. I had to find my way home. I had very little, no money, and a horse that was winded and blown. I even considered escape by sea. I was in one of the coastal villages when I was captured by Scottish pirates and taken into the wastelands north of the Forth.’
Cacoignes spread his hands. ‘When I escaped, I had to join Darel’s comitatus under a false name. I was given little choice. After all, even if I had reached London, would I have been welcome? I was a squire entrusted with the Lily Crown of Scotland, and I lost it; the sole survivor of that company who left Scone. Sir Hugh, you are proof enough. Ever since I joined you, it has been one question after another.’ He pointed at Ap Ythel. ‘I can see you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. All I can say in my defence is that when I was given the opportunity, I fled Darel’s retinue. I warned you about his approach and that wasn’t a sudden decision. I sent you a message saying we would meet.’
‘Yes, yes, you did,’ Corbett agreed.
‘I have proved my good faith.’ Cacoignes made to rise.