The silent watcher stared through the darkness at the place where Corbett had settled down to sleep. He would have liked to have driven his dagger straight into the interfering clerk's throat but knew this was not the time nor the occasion. He bitterly regretted that the knife thrown during the banquet had not hit its target for he had recognised Corbett as a dangerous man. Quiet, unobtrusive, but always asking questions, gathering information, Corbett must have learnt something from that fool MacAirth. Under his breath the man quietly cursed the interfering clerk who could bring his master's grand design to nothing. Nevertheless, there would be other times, other places. Scotland was a desolate country with deserted roads and lonely heaths. One day he would find Corbett exposed and vulnerable and deal with him in his own sophisticated way.
SEVEN
The next morning Corbett was shaken awake. He turned, stiff and cold, to see an anxious young man, blond cropped hair, worried eyes and pock-marked face. 'Master Corbett,' he urged. 'Master Corbett, wake up!' Corbett struggled to his feet and stared around the hall where the rest of the sleepers there were slowly rising to their feet, some nursing sore heads, others bawling for wine and food. He turned to the young man who had woken him. 'In God's teeth!' he snapped. 'Who are you?' 'Thomas Erceldoun,' the young man replied. 'Master MacAirth said that you wished to talk to me.' He gestured to the nearest table. 'I have brought you some ale and rye bread.' Corbett nodded his thanks, rubbed the back of his neck to ease the stiffness, and sat down. 'You were with the late King on the night he died?' Erceldoun swallowed nervously. 'Aye,' he replied. 'I was with the King. I've told my story many times.' The young man paused to gather his breath and Corbett, still only half awake, felt pity for this young man whose life and energy were now narrowed to justify his conduct on one night out of thousands. Corbett rubbed his eyes wearily, yawned and then saw the hurt in Erceldoun's eyes. 'I am sorry for disturbing you,' Erceldoun blurted out. 'But the physician who works in the royal household said that you wanted to see me immediately. I was afraid I might miss you. I…' 'Nonsense,' Corbett interrupted kindly. 'There is no need for excuses.' He sipped the cup of the cold watered ale. 'Please tell me what happened on that wild, tragic night?'
Erceldoun immediately rushed into his story, how the King decided at the banquet to return to Kinghorn and summoned both Seton and himself to ride with him. Both had remonstrated with the King when he withdrew to his private chambers in the castle to dress for the journey. 'He was very excited,' Erceldoun explained. 'He said he must leave that night and taunted us as cowards. So we went. We rode north to the ferry and, God knows how, got across the Forth. The royal purveyor was waiting with fresh mounts; the King's white horse, Tamesin, was already saddled, and his Grace left immediately with Seton. I had, as you know, trouble with my horse as soon as I left the beach!' Corbett thought of the drunken purveyor. 'Did the purveyor also attempt to restrain the King?' he asked. Erceldoun nodded. 'Yes, but the King would have none of it.' 'Did the King check his saddle and girth straps?' 'No,' Erceldoun replied. 'The King and Seton left immediately. My horse was skittish, I could not settle him. Why?' he asked hopefully. 'Do you think that Tamesin was not properly saddled?' 'Perhaps,' Corbett lied for he knew that if it was not, the accident could well have occurred earlier. 'And Seton?' Corbett continued. 'What happened to him?' 'He arrived at Kinghorn,' Erceldoun wearily replied. 'Then came back here late the following day after the King's death became public. He just withdrew to his room; the more he was questioned the more witless he seemed, muttering about shadows on Kinghorn Ness.' 'He was devoted to the King?' Erceldoun looked sharply at Corbett. 'Of course,' he almost snapped. 'As was I. But others say different,' he added bitterly. 'They allege that we deserted the King because we were afraid. They forget about our journey across the Firth!' 'How did Seton die?' 'I do not know,' Erceldoun answered. 'Perhaps of a broken heart. He ate little and would not speak. He was found dead in his chamber and was given a hasty funeral.' 'There was no mark of violence on his body?' Corbett cautiously asked. Erceldoun narrowed his eyes. 'I, too, thought of that but, no, I inspected the corpse.' 'Then perhaps poison was administered?' 'No,' Erceldoun emphatically replied. 'He ate little and it was I who brought him food. Visitors sent or brought him small gifts.' 'Who?' Corbett asked. 'Members of the Council. Especially after Bishop Wishart visited him and announced that Seton was not guilty of any involvement in the King's death.' 'So there was suspicion?' Corbett enquired. Erceldoun swallowed and looked round nervously. 'King Alexander,' he whispered nervously, 'was a man of strong appetites. Seton was a valet of his chamber. There were rumours that, that…' 'That the King used Seton?' Corbett interjected. Erceldoun nodded. 'The King had been a widower for ten years,' he continued. 'Seton was jealous and hurt at the King's passion for Queen Yolande. But he would never have harmed the King. Anyway,' he concluded morosely, 'it was established that he arrived in Kinghorn at the expected time.' 'So, despite the King riding a better horse, Seton was in front?' Corbett asked. 'Of course. Seton knew the terrain better. I suspect the King found it difficult and, for a while, lost his way in the dark. Seton would have gone ahead believing the King would not be far behind. We always travelled like that; Seton's task was to ensure that there were no obstacles.' Erceldoun paused. 'It was my task to follow at the rear!' 'Such things do happen,' Corbett soothingly replied. 'But tell me. Who else visited Seton?' 'Everyone,' Erceldoun muttered. 'Bishop Wishart, the Lord Bruce, members of the court. The French envoy and, of course, Master Benstede. He sent Seton a bowl of almonds and raisins and a present of velvet gloves.' 'Did Seton eat the food?' 'A little,' Erceldoun said. 'As with everything, I ate the rest.' 'Then why the presents?' 'Oh,' Erceldoun bitterly commented, 'before the King's death, Seton was a popular man. Anyone who wished to see the King would often approach Seton. Benstede was not the only one to send gifts.' Erceldoun looked round at the servants who were now busy, slowly clearing the cold, congealed messes left by the previous night's banquet. Officers and marshals of the royal household were shouting orders. Dogs, noisily barking, wandered in from the courtyard and were busy sniffing amongst the rubbish. Erceldoun rose and looked down at Corbett. 'I must go,' he said. 'There are duties to be carried out.' He nodded at Corbett and walked out of the hall.