Ranulf hastened off. Corbett tried to put himself into the mind of the assassin.
‘This was no hunting accident,’ he said confidently.
He walked up and down and, at last, chose his spot where he stood until Ranulf returned. Corbett took the bow, selected an arrow from the quiver and stared at the cruel, steel-pointed head.
‘This is a war arrow?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Sir William replied. ‘If we were hunting, Sir Hugh, it would be sickle-shaped.’
Corbett held the cord grip round the middle of the yew bow and notched an arrow to the string. He took a deep breath and lifted the bow up. Once the shaft came level with his eye, he pulled back.
‘Right, Ranulf!’ he ordered. ‘Start counting!’
Corbett lowered the bow again and looked across to where Lord Henry had been killed. Then he raised the bow and took careful aim. He was conscious of a slight breeze on his cheek; his eyes remained fixed on that spot as he steadied his breathing. He could feel the power of the bow, the two forefingers of his left hand grasped the shaft just behind the grey goose quill. He sighed and, as he did, loosed the arrow. In a blur the shaft hurtled across the glade and disappeared into the trees on the far side. Ranulf had reached the number nine as he lowered the bow.
‘A very short time,’ Corbett declared. ‘A few seconds. The assassin has found his mark, now he must retreat. Across the glade all is chaos and consternation. What would the assassin do now, Ranulf?’
‘If it was I, master, I’d have left a horse some way off. I’d run as fast as I could, put as much distance between myself and here as possible.’
‘Sir William?’
‘I’d do the same.’
‘But that’s not the problem, is it?’ Corbett mused, handing the bow to the manor lord. ‘The assassin would have fled. The real danger wasn’t in that.’
‘It was beforehand, wasn’t it?’ Ranulf asked.
‘Yes. It took me some time to find a spot, the best place to shoot. Now the assassin may have known that Lord Henry intended to organise a hunt in Savernake Dell but he wouldn’t know where the manor lord would be standing. Nor would he know if he’d get a good view of him.’
‘Of course,’ Ranulf said. ‘The assassin may have come here, only to find Lord Henry screened by his retainers and his guests.’
‘Precisely. In which case our assassin may have tried to kill Lord Henry before or even waited for another day.’ He smiled over his shoulder at Sir William. ‘But there’s a weakness in what I say?’
The manor lord stared stonily back.
‘You know there’s a weakness, Sir William. Your brother Lord Henry was a man of power. He would stand second to no one. He would have to be in the front. He was the host, the great huntsman.’
‘But anyone would know that,’ Sir William stammered.
‘You mean not just his family?’ Ranulf taunted.
‘As Sir Hugh says,’ Sir William replied defensively, ‘Lord Henry was the first in all things. First born, first in the tournament, in the cavalcade and, yes, in the hunt.’
Corbett walked away, studying the great oak trees. He strode across to an ancient, hollowed one, probably struck by lightning. It was at least two yards in girth. Others, similar, stood nearby.
‘What is this place?’
‘We are on the edge of Savernake Dell,’ Sir William replied. ‘But they call this “Hollowman Place” after the oak trees. My father, when he was a boy, told of a great storm in which some of the trees were struck by lightning.’
‘And?’ Corbett asked.
‘It’s well known as a lovers’ tryst or a place where children play.’ William gave a lop-sided smile. ‘My brother and I often came here to play “Catch and See”.’
Corbett stepped into one of the hollowed oaks, where he smelt the strong odour of mildewed wood, fungi and forest bracken. It was like being in a small cell. He peered up at the sky. Such a place would be favoured by any child or outlaw, or an assassin waiting for his victim to appear.
‘Ranulf! Search the other hollow trees!’
‘What am I looking for?’
‘When you find it, you’ll know.’
Sir William stood nonplussed as Corbett and Ranulf moved from tree to tree in that dark-green glade. At each one Corbett crouched down, sifting among the soft moss and fern, dry twigs and rotting leaves. The hollowed trunks were dark but there was enough light to search carefully.
‘Over here!’ Ranulf called.
He was standing by one of the oaks further away. Corbett hurried across. Ranulf was sifting the dirt in the palms of his hands. Corbett glimpsed the small tassels of leather, the thin grey goose feather. He picked these up, scrutinised them and moved into the hollow trunk where Ranulf had found them but could discover no further traces. He put what they had found into his pouch.
‘We know this was no accident,’ he declared.
‘And this is where the assassin hid. I think he came here early in the morning, even the day before, and hid a bow and quiver. The feather and tassel are from these. He then came back and hid in one of these hollowed trunks, making sure Lord Henry was in Savernake Dell and this side of the wood was deserted.’
Corbett walked to where he calculated the assassin must have taken aim, counting under his breath all the time.
‘A very short while!’ he shouted. ‘The assassin would then hasten back, the bow and quiver are placed back in one of the hollow oaks and then he’d go looking for his horse.’
Ranulf had already anticipated this and was deep in the trees, kicking at the carpet of fallen leaves.
‘Sir Hugh! Sir William! Over here!’
Ranulf pushed away the leaves with his dagger, revealing scattered horse dung.
‘He tethered his horse to a tree,’ Ranulf explained. ‘Probably bridled, the hooves may have been covered in rags.’ He cut a piece of the dung with his dagger. ‘He even had time to cover this.’
‘So we know how,’ Corbett concluded. ‘But who or why?’
Chapter 4
Corbett sat on a fallen tree trunk and gestured at Sir William to join him.
‘How many people wanted your brother killed?’ he asked.
‘Lord Henry was a law unto himself, Sir Hugh. Our family own vast estates. We have an ancient name. He was much favoured by the King, a nobleman who travelled to Italy, Sicily, Northern Spain and France.’
‘So have many people,’ Corbett replied. ‘But that doesn’t make people want to murder them in a lonely dell on a lovely autumn afternoon. Sir William, I would be grateful if you would answer my questions as bluntly and honestly as possible. You know, I know, we all know there’s more to this than meets the eye.’
‘The physician and my retainers are waiting.’ Sir William’s voice was tinged with complaint.
‘Ranulf,’ Corbett ordered. ‘Tell Sir William’s men that they can either stay or go back to the manor.’
‘Tell them to stay!’ Sir William snapped.
‘Good.’ Corbett sighed. ‘Now, Sir William, your brother?’
‘He was hated by Robert Verlian, his chief verderer.’
‘Why?’
‘He lusted after Verlian’s daughter, Alicia. A beautiful young woman, it’s hard to imagine Verlian having a daughter like that. Lord Henry said she had a face like an angel. He was used to having his way with wenches.’
‘And Alicia resisted?’
‘She despised my brother.’
‘And Verlian himself?’
‘At first he was the loyal retainer but even a worm will turn. On one occasion, the Verlians threatened to kill Lord Henry if he didn’t desist in his wanton lechery.’
‘So, that’s why you suspected your chief verderer?’
‘Yes. Verlian’s also a master bowman and he was not with the hunting party.’
‘So, where could he have been?’
‘It’s possible,’ Sir William looked shamefaced, ‘that Verlian stayed behind the hunters as they drove the deer into Savernake Dell. After all, that was his responsibility.’