A short while later, Lady Adelicia and her maid Berengaria entered, flanked by city guards. Corbett rose, bowed and gestured at them to sit at the other end of the table. He glanced sideways at Ranulf and suppressed a grin. The Senior Clerk of the Chancery of the Green Wax was known for his deep veneration of any beauty, and Lady Adelicia was certainly beautiful. She was of medium height, with a willowy figure and a lovely swan neck. Her face was almost perfect, framed by a simple white linen veil. She reminded Corbett of one of those damsels in a church fresco, with her smooth forehead, arching brows, beautiful wide-spaced eyes, pale ivory skin and lips as red as a luscious rose. She was dressed simply in a blue silver-edged gown bound by a gold cord; no rings or bracelets glittered, yet she seemed to brighten the room with her sweet smile and elegant gestures. Berengaria, her maid, was a complete contrast: red-cheeked, auburn-haired, with a mischievous face; her bold blue eyes fluttered at Corbett before she simpered at Ranulf and, turning sideways, glanced teasingly at him out of the corner of her eye.
Finally Castledene entered the chamber in a cloud of scarlet robes of office. He sat opposite Ranulf as Wendover closed the door and took up guard against it.
‘Lady Adelicia,’ Corbett began, ‘I regret to find you in these circumstances, but as you well know, you have been charged with the foul crime of the murder of your husband. You have petitioned the King, so His Grace has asked me to investigate the matter. However, I must advise you that once the Holy Season in over, certainly by the Feast of St Hilary, you must go on trial before Sir Walter and two other justices of oyer and terminer.’
‘I know well the heinous allegations levelled against me,’ Lady Adelicia replied, her voice surprisingly strong, her face no longer sweet but hard and resolute. ‘I am innocent of any charge.’
‘Lady Adelicia,’ Corbett declared, his voice carrying, ‘that will be a matter for the jury and the royal justices. You were married to your husband for how long?’
‘Over two years.’
‘And your marriage?’
‘Was a May to December alliance,’ she snapped. ‘I was the King’s ward. I did not wish to marry Sir Rauf, but,’ she fluttered her long fingers, ‘I had no choice in the matter. The King was insistent.’ She paused. ‘I hated Decontet, I admit that. I found his touch foulsome.’
‘But not his money!’ Lechlade slurred.
‘Shut up!’ Lady Adelicia’s face became red with anger; she glared at Lechlade slumped against the table. ‘You are nothing but a toper drinking from morning until night. You stumble about, you smell!’
Lechlade just smiled tipsily, rocking backwards and forwards on the bench.
‘Did your husband ill-treat you?’ Corbett asked. ‘Beat you?’
‘I told him that if he laid a finger on me I would kill him.’ Adelicia’s voice was steely.
Corbett tried to hide his sense of despair. This was a beautiful young woman, married against her will to an old miser whom she had hated. If she repeated the same before His Majesty’s justices of oyer and terminer and a jury of twelve good men and true. .
‘Lady Adelicia.’ Corbett held up his hands, aware of Ranulf’s quill skimming across the parchment. ‘I must advise you to be more prudent.’
‘I am prudent,’ she retorted. ‘I am also innocent. I may have hated my husband, disliked him intensely, his lewd ways, his meanness, but I did not murder him. I was not in the house that day.’
‘And this house?’ Corbett asked.
‘Sweetmead Manor.’ She laughed sharply, as if mocking the name. ‘A mansion, a fine town house, Sir Hugh; it stands between the Templar priory and the Abbot of St Augustine’s mill.’
‘And on that Thursday,’ Corbett asked, ‘the Feast of St Ambrose: what exactly happened?’
‘I rose early in the morning and broke my fast. I returned to my chamber to wash, change and prepare for the day. Afterwards Berengaria and I decided to visit the market outside St Andrew’s church. I left just before noon.’
‘And when you returned?’
‘It must have been between the hours of four and five. I remember the market bell tolling.’
‘So, on a cold December day,’ Corbett said, ‘you spent almost five hours in a market? You went nowhere else?’
Lady Adelicia stared coolly back.
Corbett saw Berengaria momentarily flinch and promised himself to return to that matter.
‘So what happened then?’
‘I came back to the house. Darkness was falling. Berengaria carried a lantern horn before me. We had hired two link boys from the market to escort us. When I returned to the main door of my house, Physician Desroches was waiting. He had roused Lechlade and summoned Parson Warfeld.’
Corbett held up a hand. ‘You, sir.’ He pointed at the manservant, who was busy wiping his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Your mistress left at noon. What did you do then?’
‘You should ask her where she went!’ Lechlade replied.
Corbett had to bang the table to restore order. ‘Sir, limit yourself to my questions otherwise you will spend some time in the dungeons beneath this Guildhall. What did you do that afternoon?’
‘Well,’ the man sniffed, ‘I knew my mistress had left and that Sir Rauf would be in his counting house, so I went down to the Green King — it’s a nearby tavern — and bought myself a jug of ale.’
‘Didn’t Sir Rauf have ale in his house?’
‘No, sir, just wine in his cellar, and he kept a very strict eye on that. Anyway, I brought the ale back, took it to my chamber, locked the door, drank and fell asleep. I was as happy as a pig in its muck until this busybody,’ Lechlade jabbed the physician on the arm, ‘turned up banging on the doors.’
‘Were all the doors locked?’
‘All. My master was very strict on that. Morning, noon and night, whatever the weather, if we were in, the doors were locked and bolted. If somebody left, the doors were locked and bolted after them. The same was true of Sir Rauf’s chamber, though only he had the key to that.’
‘And Lady Adelicia’s chamber?’
‘Oh, she owned a key to that, as did the master.’
‘Continue,’ Corbett demanded.
‘Well then, I am aroused from my sleep. I open the window. I look down. I see the physician here shouting up at me. “Lechlade,” he calls, “what is the matter? I wish to see Sir Rauf!” I reply, “There is nothing the matter.” I come downstairs, unlock the front door, and in he comes, all high and mighty, sniffing like he always does.’
Desroches remained impassive in the face of such insults.
‘And?’ Corbett asked. ‘Master Desroches, perhaps you had best explain why you were there.’
‘I was Sir Rauf’s physician,’ Desroches replied slowly. ‘I often visited him. He paid me good silver. He was worried about this ailment or that. I would just sit there and chat to him, then I would leave. Now, Sir Hugh, Rauf Decontet very rarely left his house. I decided to visit him mid-afternoon on the Feast of St Ambrose, but when I arrived there was no Sir Rauf to greet me. I believed something was wrong. I eventually roused Lechlade, who came down and let me in. To the right of the entrance is the hall of the house. Sir Rauf had his chancery chamber on the left. I knocked on this door but there was no reply. The windows were all shuttered, but going outside and looking through a gap, I caught the glow of candlelight. Sir Rauf would never leave a candle glowing if he had gone out. He was a very careful, how shall I say, prudent man. We banged on the door, but again, no answer. I suspected something terrible had happened. However,’ Desroches gestured at Lechlade, ‘he’s a born toper. I wanted another witness present. I left the house and hired a farmer’s boy. I gave him a penny and dispatched him across the wastelands to fetch Parson Warfeld from St Alphege’s.’