Hugh Corbett 15 - The Waxman Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

King’s will. You must have listened to Drokensford, Langton and other officials of the Exchequer: the royal treasury is empty. Edward wages bloody war against Wallace and the kingdom of Scotland.’
    ‘And a greater part of any treasure trove belongs to the King?’
    ‘ Tu dixisti – you’ve said it!’ Corbett quipped.
    He urged his horse along the rutted trackway. Now the countryside was not so lonely: houses rose on either side, their gates shut, doors firmly locked against the icy night. The smell of wood smoke, charcoal and fragrant cooking odours urged them on. Somewhere behind a lychgate, a dog barked. Darkness was sweeping in. The moon began to rise and the stars shimmered like pinpricks of light above them.
    ‘In a word, Ranulf,’ Corbett added, ‘we are here to help decipher the chart, though I believe it may already have been done. We are to ensure Castledene and Paulents agree to the King’s rights, safeguard Paulents, and deal with—’
    ‘The Lady Adelicia?’
    ‘Adelicia Decontet,’ Corbett agreed. ‘Soon to be arraigned before Sir Walter Castledene and other justices in the city Guildhall on a charge of murdering her husband, Sir Rauf Decontet. Adelicia was once the King’s ward. If Edward of England has a soft heart for anyone, it is Adelicia “La Delicieuse”. However, her late husband was also a friend of the King. He lent Edward money for his recent wars in Gascony.’
    ‘So the King will intervene in this matter?’
    ‘No.’ Corbett turned in the saddle, sheltering his face against the driving snowflakes. ‘We are here to see that justice is done. If she truly shattered her husband’s skull as you would a nut, then she’ll not hang, Ranulf, she’ll burn before the city gates.’
    ‘And why are we staying at St Augustine’s Abbey?’
    ‘Because it’s more comfortable; because Hubert once studied there. We might learn something, and . . .’
    ‘And what?’
    ‘Wait and see. Come.’
    Corbett urged his horse into a canter, and Ranulf and Chanson followed, unaware that ahead of them, those twin disciples of Cain, horrid murder and bloody mayhem, also crept towards the King’s city of Canterbury.
    Wendover, captain and serjeant-at-arms in the city of Canterbury, was also concerned about murder. So anxious had he become, he truly wished he could slip into the shriving pew at St Alphege’s church and confess all his sins to Parson Warfeld. Yet was he as contrite as the rite of absolution said he should be? Indeed, although he was racked by the fear of hell, the allure of Lady Adelicia’s soft white body, so smooth and perfumed, her golden hair hanging down, those light blue eyes, her soft speech and elegant gestures seemed a total hindrance to God’s grace. Lady Adelicia Decontet had turned Wendover’s world upside down. He was reminded of that wall painting in St Alphege’s which showed three rats hanging a cat and, in the background, an antelope hunting a fox ridden by a rabbit: a parable of the topsy-turvy world he now lived in. After all, he was supposed to keep the King’s peace, not violate it through fornication with a leading citizen’s wife, especially one now imprisoned in the dungeons beneath the Guildhall.
    Lady Adelicia stood accused of murdering her miserly husband, of smashing his skull with a fire-tong, splattering his chancery chamber with blood and brains. Yet how could she have done that? Wendover knew she was innocent. On the very afternoon the heinous crime had been committed, Adelicia had been with him in his chamber at The Chequer of Hope, ripe and rich, turning and twisting under him. She’d arrived as she always did, in disguise. The tavern was so busy, it was easy for her to slip like a shadow up its outside staircase. Yet such secrecy had not saved her from disgrace. Now she had been imprisoned and accused of murder. So far she had said nothing, yet soon the justices, led by that hard-hearted bastard Castledene, would force her to plead either way