‘Master, what makes you think de Craon was behind the attack?’
‘Ranulf, you visited the Frenchman’s house, or at least saw it in Gracechurch Street. Did you notice anything untoward?’
‘Rather dirty, ramshackle. I thought it was a strange residence for an envoy of a French king. I mean, Master, the streets outside were littered with piles of refuse yet the dung carts were empty.’
Corbett half-choked on the piece of pie he was eating.
‘Of course,’ he whispered. Images flashed into his mind: the meeting with de Craon and de Nevers, the old gardener in the cemetery at Westminster Abbey, the silent street, the empty, deserted dung cart, Puddlicott in Paris then in London.
‘Listen, Ranulf, quickly, do two things. You are to hire a horse and ride as if Maltote himself was with you to the Guildhall. Cade will be there. You are to tell him that the Harbour Masters on the Thames are to stop all shipping. Also every soldier in the city is to muster at the corner of Thames Street. They are to be there within the hour.’ He grabbed the tankard from Ranulf’s hand. ‘Go on, man! We may not be able to do anything about Maltote’s eyes but we might seize the men who hired his attackers!’
After Ranulf had left, Corbett sat and cursed his own stupidity. He had established that the treasury had been robbed, the wall being finely breached within the last few days. Puddlicott must have worked on that tunnel like a farmer clearing a field, slowly, regularly over a number of months. Now, most of the plate hadn’t been touched, being too bulky and obvious to move and sell immediately. Perhaps the robbers had decided to divide their loot, Warfield taking the plate and Puddlicott the coins. Corbett gnawed on his lip and rose slowly to his feet. But, he wondered, didn’t the same apply to sacks of coin? Puddlicott could move them but if he started using them, surely he’d be traced? Where would such a flow of coins pass unnoticed. .? Of course! Corbett groaned, seized his cloak and hurried out of the tavern.
Chapter 12
Corbett ensconced himself in one of the many taverns along Thames Street as he waited for Ranulf and Cade to arrive. He also hired five fishermen, who had been celebrating a successful night’s catch, to hunt amongst the wharves and docks for a French ship preparing to leave on the morning tide. Over an hour passed before his spies returned, saying there was a French cog, the Grace a Dieu, berthed at Queenshithe, which was a veritable hive of activity. One of the fishermen accurately described de Craon, and Corbett became alarmed when another reported how the ship was well manned, bore armaments and was guarded by soldiers.
‘Supposedly a wine vessel,’ the fellow concluded sourly. ‘But you know the French, Master? It’s a merchant ship turned man-of-war.’
Corbett cursed, and paid the fellows their due. If the ship slipped its mooring he did not want it to become involved in some sea fight on the Thames or, even worse, out in the Narrow Sea where it might give any pursuer the slip and make a quick dash for Dieppe or Boulogne. He left the tavern and paced restlessly up and down. By all rights he should be on the way to Sheen, but the King would have to wait. Corbett just hoped his guess would prove correct.
At last Ranulf returned with Cade, one of the sheriffs and troops of city archers and men-at-arms. They thronged the streets and narrow alleyways causing consternation amongst the early morning shoppers, seamen, traders, hucksters and costermongers. The under-sheriff, still looked peakish and nervous, realising his dishonesty about Judith had not yet been fully resolved.
‘Any news from the Tower, Master Cade?’
The under-sheriff shook his head.
‘Brother Richard has been released and Adam of Warfield keeps repeating his story but what’s this fracas about, Sir Hugh?’
‘This fracas,’ Corbett snapped, ‘is about treason!’ He looked at Ranulf. ‘The harbour master has been warned?’
Ranulf nodded.
‘Two men-of-war have been alerted,’ Cade added. ‘The Thames below Westminster has been sealed but a ship on this tide could force its way through and make a run for the open sea. I take it that our quarry is a ship?’
Corbett nodded. ‘A French merchant ship turned man-of-war, the Grace a Dieu. It’s berthed at Queenshithe. I want no nonsense. Forget about protests, protocol and diplomatic ties. I want the ship seized, the soldiers disarmed and the place searched from poop to stern.’
Cade blanched. ‘Sir Hugh, I hope you know what you are doing? If you are wrong, and I suspect we are looking for the stolen treasure, the King’s cup of wrath will spill over on us all!’
‘And if I am right,’ Corbett soothingly replied, ‘then we shall all dance round the maypole.’
He led the archers and men-at-arms into the narrow alleyway leading down to the wharves and quays. Instructions were whispered and, at last, they reached the riverside. Corbett glimpsed the Grace a Dieu; its ramps were still down but the sailors were already scaling the masts to prepare the ship for sail.
‘Now!’ Corbett shouted.
He, Cade and Ranulf led the charge across the cobbled stones. The ramps were stormed. Two men-at-arms, wearing the royal livery of France, tried to block their progress but were knocked aside as English archers and men-at-arms swarmed all over the ship. Sailors caught unawares in the rigging were ordered down, soldiers found between decks were disarmed.
In a few minutes the ship was secured and the French soldiers reduced to mere bystanders. The door of the small cabin in the poop opened and de Craon, followed by de Nevers, stormed across the deck to where Corbett and Cade stood at the foot of the great mast.
‘This is outrageous!’ de Craon yelled. ‘We are the accredited envoys of King Philip, this is a French ship!’ He pointed to the large banner jutting out from the poop. ‘We sail under the royal protection of the House of Capet!’
‘I don’t care if you sail under the direct protection of the Holy Father!’ Corbett replied. ‘You have been up to mischief again, de Craon. I want the King of England’s gold back. Now!’
De Craon’s eyes flickered with amusement. ‘So, we are thieves?’
‘Yes. You are!’
‘You’ll answer for this!’
‘Either way, monsieur, I’ll answer!’ Corbett turned to Cade. ‘Search the ship!’
The under-sheriff turned and rapped out orders and, despite de Craon’s protests, the English soldiers fell to with a will. The cabin was ransacked but the searchers came out grim-faced, shaking their heads. A troop was sent down to the hold. Corbett just stared at de Craon, who stood arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently on the deck. The English clerk deliberately did not look at de Nevers but whispered to Ranulf where to stand. The soldiers came up from below.
‘There’s nothing,’ they said. ‘Just cloth and sacks of food stuff.’
Corbett controlled his panic as he sensed the dismay of Cade and the other officers. He knew the gold and silver were on board; but where?
‘Master.’
‘Shut up, Ranulf!’
Ranulf grabbed Corbett by the arm. ‘Master, I used to run along these wharves. This ship is ready for sea, yes? There are sailors in the rigging preparing to sail. They are looking for a speedy departure.’
‘So?’
‘Master, the ship’s anchor is down. It should be up!’
Corbett turned his back on de Craon. ‘Ranulf, what are you saying?’
‘Master, they haven’t raised the anchor!’
Corbett smiled and turned to Cade. ‘I want three swimmers to make sure that the anchor of this ship is fine. Perhaps check the hawser chain?’
De Craon’s face paled, his jaw fell open. De Nevers began to move to the rail but Corbett seized him by the arm.