Hugh Corbett 11 - The Demon Archer Read Free Page A

handed it back and gripped his stomach; the pains he’d suffered the night before had disappeared. They would spend the afternoon hunting and, this evening, feast on the most succulent venison in his great hall at Ashdown Manor. He looked over his shoulder to where his brother William stood glowering at him, his face full of grievance.
    ‘Come, come, brother!’ Lord Henry felt a spurt of good humour.
    His brother walked across, his high-heeled riding boots squelching on the soft earth. He threw his cloak back over his shoulder and Henry studied him quickly from head to toe. The tunic was wine-stained, the leggings already covered in mud. His brother was a good soldier but a poor courtier and, above all, a bad loser. Henry’s smile widened as he grasped William by the shoulder and pulled him closer.
    ‘Today, sweet brother,’ he hissed, smile fixed, ‘I enjoy a day’s hunting. I entertain the King’s guests.’ He gestured with his head to where Seigneur Amaury de Craon, the pale, red-haired, foxy-faced envoy from the French court stood quietly gossiping with his own entourage.
    ‘I don’t give a fig for the French, brother!’ William snapped. ‘You gave me your promise that the manor of Manningtree would be mine when I passed my thirtieth birthday.’
    ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Lord Henry replied. ‘Manningtree will stay with me.’
    ‘And me?’ William accused. ‘Am I to stay with you, brother? Become a hanger-on at your court? Feeding on scraps from your table?’
    ‘You are my dearest brother. You are my heir.’ Lord Henry pulled a face. ‘Well, until I marry and beget a thousand and one sons.’
    ‘Why can’t I have Manningtree?’
    ‘First, because I have said so. Secondly, I need it. And thirdly, brother, I want to keep you close. I don’t want you skulking off and plotting with some of my, let us say, disaffected knights. I’ve given you a choice. You can stay here and, in all things, be my brother. Or I can give you a hundred pounds, two good horses and a suit of armour and you can go and seek your fortune elsewhere. Until then,’ his grip tightened, ‘you will smile when I tell you to! You will do what I tell you to do!’
    His brother broke free and stood back, his hand going to the dagger in the belt around his waist.
    ‘What are you going to do, brother?’ Henry taunted. ‘Settle matters here?’ He stepped closer, his face now drained of any good humour. ‘Go on, sweet brother, draw your dagger, let’s have it out now. But, I tell you this.’ He grasped the hilt of his sword. ‘Your head will leave your shoulders before that dagger leaves its sheath. Now, play the man.’
    William’s hand fell away.
    ‘That’s a good boy.’ He was about to turn away.
    ‘Who’s the Owlman?’ William whispered.
    ‘Why, brother, he’s an outlaw, a wolfs-head, an irritant.’
    ‘But why does he threaten you? Those messages left pinned to the manor gate or shot into doors and shutters? A good archer, brother, why should he taunt you?’
    ‘Brother, I am a great lord,’ Lord Henry explained. ‘I come of ancient family as you do. I make enemies, not only among my own kith and kin, but further afield! One day I’ll go hunting, not the fallow or roe deer but the Owlman. When I catch him, I’ll hang him from my manor gate and that will be the end of the matter.’
    ‘He must hate you deeply?’
    ‘Brother, better to be hated than despised.’
    ‘And the French?’ William asked. ‘Why have they asked the King . . . ?’
    ‘Why have they asked the King?’ Lord Henry interrupted, drawing so close William could smell his wine-drenched breath. ‘Why has the King asked me to lead an embassy to Paris to represent the Crown at the betrothal of the Lord Edward to the Princess Isabella? Yes.’ His eyes rounded in mock surprise. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m doing, William! Because I am what you are not! I am a great lord, a friend and confidant of the King. I am feared not only here but in