Heartstone

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘They’d make good recruits,’ Snodin said maliciously. ‘Especially the taller lad.’

  ‘You insolent dog,’ Hobbey snapped.

  Dyrick spoke up. ‘Captain Leacon, we have an appointment in the city with the feodary of Hampshire. We shall be late.’ He looked over to the gates. The obstruction had been cleared and the carts were going slowly in. The bull’s cage was just entering.

  ‘I think you had better call Hugh and David over,’ I said quietly to Leacon.

  ‘For you, Master Shardlake, certainly. You keep a civil tongue in your head.’ He called to the archers. ‘Cease firing! You two young fellows, over here!’

  Reluctantly, Hugh handed the bow back to its owner, and he and David walked over to us. Leacon smiled at them. ‘Well done, lads. Fine shooting.’ He looked at Hugh. ‘You hit the mark twice in succession, young fellow.’

  ‘We practise every day.’ Hugh was staring at Leacon with something like awe. ‘Sir, will we repel the French?’

  ‘You won’t!’ Hobbey, still angry, grabbed him by the shoulder. David flinched and backed away, a frightened expression on his face. So he had not forgotten about yesterday after all.

  Hugh turned on Hobbey, his face suddenly red with fury. ‘Let me go!’ For a second I thought he might lash out.

  ‘Hugh,’ I said quietly.

  To my relief, Hugh brushed off Hobbey’s arm and walked back to the horses. ‘Till later,’ I said to Leacon. ‘I am sorry about that.’

  He nodded. ‘Back to practice, Goddams,’ he called to the soldiers. We remounted and rode up to the gates; Leacon and Llewellyn had already passed through. Once again we were asked our business by the soldiers on guard before we were allowed through. As we rode through the barbican into the sunlight, I heard the steady beat of drums from within.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  WITHIN THE WALLS, Portsmouth reminded me even more of the interior of a castle. The town was surrounded on all sides by the earth walls, sloping gently down on the inner side, where turf had been laid to stabilize the earth. Much of the enclosed area was given over to market gardens, the town itself being surprisingly small. The street facing us was the only one wholly built up with shops and cottages, the better ones with jutting upper storeys. I saw only one church, down towards the seafront, with another signal lantern on top of its square tower.

  ‘This is the High Street,’ Hobbey said. ‘We are meeting Master Priddis at the new Guildhall halfway down.’

  The street was unpaved, dusty from all the traffic, the air full of the heavy, cloying smell of brewing. We rode past tired-looking labourers, sunburnt sailors in woollen smocks with bare feet, soldiers in their round helmets who must have obtained passes into the town. A well-dressed merchant, a fine lace collar on his shirt, rode along with a pomander held to his nose, a clerk riding alongside calling out figures from a list. Like many others the merchant kept a hand on the purse at his belt.

  People were haggling loudly at the open shopfronts. I heard a remarkable babel of tongues among the passers-by: Welsh, Spanish, Flemish. At every corner a little group of soldiers, in half-armour and carrying halberds, stood watching all who passed. I remembered the corner boys. The town crier, resplendent in his red uniform, passed up and down ringing a bell, shouting, ‘All women who cannot prove residence by tomorrow will be removed as prostitutes!’ A drunk staggered into the road, swigging from a pigskin gourd. ‘Join King Harry’s navy!’ he shouted. ‘Six and sixpence a month and all the beer you can drink!’ He tottered towards Feaveryear, who pulled his horse aside. ‘Godless creature,’ he muttered angrily.

  ‘Don’t you like a drink now and then, Feaveryear?’ Barak asked teasingly.

  ‘My vicar says to keep out of taverns.’

  ‘Sounds like my wife.’

  ‘Hugh and David put up a remarkable show back there,’ I said to Feaveryear.

  ‘I envy Master Hugh his prowess.’ The little clerk sighed.

  ‘I would not envy him too much. I think his life is no bed of roses.’

  Feaveryear stared at me. ‘No, sir. You are wrong. Hugh has been brought up well. He is strong, skilled and learned. A true gentleman. It is as my master says; you have no cause against this family.’ He spurred his horse and pulled ahead.

  THE GUILDHALL was a large, brightly painted wooden building of three storeys. An ostler took our horses to some stables behind. Hobbey told David to wait outside with the servants until we returned, warning them sternly to stay out of the taverns.

  ‘I suppose you want Barak with you,’ Dyrick said.

  ‘Yes, Brother, I do.’

  Dyrick shrugged. ‘Come then, Sam.’

  We stepped into a large central hall. A wooden staircase rose to an upper floor. People passed busily to and fro, royal officials and townsmen in their guild uniforms. Hobbey accosted a harassed looking clerk and asked for Sir Quintin Priddis.

  ‘He’s upstairs, sir. In the room facing the staircase. Are you the gentlemen come to see him? I fear you are a little late.’

  Hobbey rounded on Hugh. ‘That business at the butts! Gentlemen do not keep each other waiting.’ Hugh shrugged.

  We walked upstairs. Barak looked round disparagingly. ‘A wooden Guildhall?’

  ‘There can’t be more than a few hundred living here normally. The townsfolk must feel swamped.’

  We knocked on the door the clerk had indicated. A cultivated voice bade us enter. Inside was a meeting room, sparsely decorated and dominated by a large oaken table at which two men sat, a neat stack of papers before them. The younger wore a lawyer’s robe; he was a little over forty, his dark hair worn long, his square face coldly handsome. The elder was in his sixties; grey-haired, wearing a brown robe. He sat crouched, one shoulder much higher than the other, and for a moment I thought Sir Quintin Priddis was another hunchback. Then I saw that one side of his face was frozen and that his left hand, which lay on the table, was a desiccated claw, bone white. He must have had a paralytic seizure. As coroner of Sussex, this was the man who had ordered Ellen to be forced screaming into a coach. Reverend Seckford had described him as a busy, bustling little fellow. Not any more.

  We bowed and raised our heads to find two identical pairs of sharp, bright blue eyes examining us across the table.

  ‘Well, this is quite a deputation,’ the older man said. His voice was slurred, lisping. ‘I had not thought to see so many. And a serjeant, no less. You must be Master Shardlake?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Sir Quintin Priddis, feodary of Hampshire. This is my son Edward, my assistant.’ He glanced at the younger man, without affection I thought. ‘Now, Master Hobbey I know, and this well-set-up young fellow must be Hugh.’ He studied the boy closely. Hugh put up a hand to cover his scars. ‘You have grown much, lad, since last I saw you. But why do you keep your hair polled so close? A good head of hair suits a young gentleman.’

  ‘I am an archer, sir,’ Hugh answered unemotionally. ‘It is the way among us.’

  A sardonic smile briefly distorted the right half of Sir Quintin’s face. Hobbey said, ‘This is Master Vincent Dyrick, my legal representative. The other two are the lawyers’ clerks.’

  ‘I am afraid there is a shortage of chairs in this poor place,’ Priddis said. ‘I cannot ask you to sit. But we shall not be here long; I have a meeting at eleven that cannot wait. Well, Master Shardlake, what questions have you for me?’ He gave me a cold smile.

  ‘You will know this case well, sir—’

  ‘Not as a legal dispute.’ Edward Priddis spoke quietly and precisely. ‘My father knows this as an ordinary wardship, in his capacity as feodary. He assessed the initial value of the lands and has dealt with routine queries from Master Hobbey since then.’

  Sir Quintin gave his crooked, mirthless half-smile. ‘You see, my son too is a lawyer. As I was at the start of my career. He is right, but you, Master Shardlake, you believe there is some reason for concern.’ I looked into those bright blue eyes, but could read nothing of the ma
n except that he still had force and power.

  ‘Sir Quintin,’ I asked, ‘when you refer to routine queries do you mean the cutting of Master Hugh’s woodlands?’

  ‘Indeed. Master Hobbey has always thought these were good times to exploit the demand for wood. I advised him that would be legal if Hugh was credited with the profits. Exploiting a resource on those terms is not waste, rather a wise benefiting from market conditions.’

  Edward laid his hands on the papers. ‘There are notes here of my father’s discussions with Master Hobbey. You are welcome to see them.’

  ‘I am concerned that the amounts recorded in Master Hobbey’s accounts may not reflect the amount of prime oak I have seen in the remaining woodlands.’

  Hobbey looked at me sharply. Dyrick addressed Priddis. ‘The woodland that has been cut had much less oak than that which remains.’

  ‘You will have seen the lands before the woods were cut down, sir,’ I said to Priddis.

  ‘I remember seeing mixed woodland. But that was five years ago, at the first cutting. And travel through woodland presents difficulties for me now.’ He nodded at his dead white hand.

  ‘Master Hobbey said your son rides the lands for you.’

  ‘That is true,’ Edward said. ‘And I am sure my father’s assessment is right. However,’ he added smoothly, ‘we will be staying in Portsmouth a few days more, and can journey out to Hoyland. I have no objection to riding out with you to look at the lands. You can show me what you mean.’

  And you can interpret it as you like, I thought, for there is no real proof; it is too late to do anything. But, if nothing else, I wanted to get to know this pair better, for Ellen’s sake. Edward Priddis would have been around twenty at the time of the fire, I thought, his father in his forties.

  Sir Quintin smiled. ‘Good. I will come out to Hoyland with you. I could do with a day away from this stinking town. I can still just about ride, but I will have to rest at Master Hobbey’s fine house. Well, Master Shardlake, you see how we make every effort to cooperate with the court. We could come next Monday, the thirteenth. In the afternoon.’

  Hobbey looked worried. ‘Sir, we are having a hunt on Monday. It has been planned for many weeks. It would be awkward—’

  ‘Ah, the hunt,’ Priddis said wistfully. ‘I used to love hunting. Well, Monday is the only day I can come. I am due to set off for Winchester on Tuesday. We need not get in your way. The hunt should be over by three o’clock, I hazard.’

  Dyrick spoke then. ‘I see little point in riding through the remains of long-felled woodland to try and work out what sort of trees once grew there. And the Bill of Information that started this matter spoke of monstrous wrongs. But Master Curteys has no complaints, I believe.’

  Sir Quintin turned to Hugh. ‘What say you, lad? Has any wrong been done to you by Master Hobbey or his family?’ I looked at the feodary. He was relaxed, he knew what answer the boy would make.

  ‘No, sir,’ Hugh answered quietly. ‘Only that I am not allowed to join the army, which is what I wish.’

  Priddis laughed creakily. ‘So many avoiding their obligations, and here is a fine lad offering to serve. But, young man, your place is at home. And in three years’ time, you will be able to sue out your livery and take your place as a gentleman with your own lands.’ He waved his good arm. ‘Take your hand from your face; I of all people have reason not to be put off by blemishes. Stand forth boldly! If one attracts stares, that is how one must react. Eh, Master Shardlake?’

  I did not reply. Hugh lowered his hand, and Priddis studied him a moment more. Then he looked at Hobbey. ‘The boy has a pleasant aspect, despite those scars. Is there a marriage in prospect?’

  Hobbey shook his head. ‘I am leaving Master Hugh free to choose whom he would marry. There is no one at present.’

  Priddis looked at me severely. ‘It seems, Master Shardlake, that you may have been sent on a fool’s errand. Your client risks heavy costs when the case returns to Wards.’

  ‘It is my duty to investigate everything.’

  Priddis inclined his head. ‘I suppose that is your prerogative.’

  Dyrick spoke scathingly. ‘I fear Brother Shardlake will be pulling up the floorboards at the priory to see if there are any mice that might bite Hugh.’

  Sir Quintin raised a reproving finger. ‘Now, Master Dyrick, I am sure he would not go quite that far.’

  Edward Priddis murmured to his father, ‘We must consider the papers on Sir Martin Osborne’s case this morning—’

  ‘Quite right,’ Sir Quintin agreed. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, I will see you on Monday.’ He smiled at Hobbey. ‘If your hunting guests see me, tell them I am an old friend who has called by.’ He gave his little cackle.

  We bowed and left. Outside, Dyrick rounded on me angrily. ‘God’s blood, Shardlake, why will you not let this go? You saw what Sir Quintin thought of it all. Are you out to embarrass Master Hobbey on the day of his hunt?’

  ‘Calm yourself, Brother. You heard Sir Quintin, he will not advertise his business.’

  We walked downstairs in silence. The clerk who had shown us up was talking in deferential tones to two men standing in the doorway of the Guildhall. Both were dressed in fur-lined robes and caps despite the July heat, and each had a fat gold chain round his neck. They turned, and I recognized Sir William Paulet and Sir Richard Rich. I was so shocked I stopped dead at the bottom of the staircase, so that Hobbey bumped into me from behind. Paulet threw me a severe look, but Rich gave a little snort of laughter.

  ‘Master Shardlake,’ he said. ‘We will not eat you. On my oath, you are turned into a nervous fellow since your time in the Tower.’

  Mention of the Tower brought the buzz of conversation among the people in the hallway to a halt. Everyone looked round.

  ‘Your enquiries are still proceeding, Brother Shardlake?’ Paulet asked coldly. ‘You must have been here, what, a week?’

  ‘Five days, Sir William.’

  Rich gave his thin smile. ‘Oh, Master Shardlake was ever a persistent fellow. No matter what trouble his persistence may land him in.’

  ‘I act only within the confines of the law,’ I answered steadily.

  ‘So must all men,’ Rich answered.

  ‘I take it you have been seeing Sir Quintin Priddis?’ Paulet asked.

  ‘We have, sir.’

  ‘Quintin Priddis, eh?’ Rich’s grey eyes widened with curiosity.

  ‘He is the feodary of Hampshire,’ Paulet said.

  ‘I knew Sir Quintin when I was studying for the Bar thirty years ago. He gave me some interesting insights about the use of the law. Well, it is a small world at the top. And everyone of importance is heading for Portsmouth now. You should not be so astonished to see me, Master Shardlake.’

  ‘I knew you were coming, Sir Richard. You passed us on the road last week.’

  ‘I did not see you.’

  ‘I was travelling with a company of soldiers.’

  ‘Soldiers, eh? Well, I am in charge of finance for supplying the army, as I was in France last year. Making sure the merchants do not cheat the King.’ He snuggled his pointed little chin into his fur collar, a courtier enjoying the display of power. ‘Governor Paulet has been seeking my advice on security matters,’ he went on. ‘There is fighting between the soldiers and sailors who find their way to the city every night. If we could hang a few more—’

  ‘We’re short enough of men,’ Paulet answered curtly. ‘We can’t go hanging the ones we’ve got. I’ll speak to the officers again. Now, Sir Richard, the mayor is waiting within – ’

  ‘A moment, Sir William,’ Rich said softly. ‘I would have a brief word with my friend Shardlake.’ He waved a hand at our party. ‘The rest of you, go.’ Barak hesitated, and Rich snapped, ‘You too, Jack Barak. Always nosing around, ever since you served Lord Cromwell that lost his head.’ Barak turned reluctantly and joined the others at the entrance.

  ‘Now, Matthew Shardlake.’ Rich stood close, I saw the heavy gold l
inks of his chain, the smoothness of his narrow cheeks, smelt garlic on his breath. ‘Listen to me, well and carefully. It is time for you to complete your business and hasten back to London. The King and Queen are at Godalming, they will be here in the middle of next week. My intelligence is that the King does not know you are Queen Catherine’s friend. And if he did, and saw you here, he might be displeased with you again.’ He leaned forward, poked my chest with a narrow finger. ‘Time to be gone.’

  ‘Sir Richard,’ I asked quietly, ‘why does it matter to you where I am or what I do?’

  Rich inclined his head and smiled. ‘Because I do not like you. I do not like the sight of your bent back or your long nose or your busy little eyes with their censorious look. And I am a member of his majesty’s Privy Council, so when I say it is time for you to go, you go.’ He turned away, his long robe billowing as he walked back to where Paulet stood watching inside the doorway. I went back to the others, my stomach churning. Dyrick looked at me curiously.

  ‘Was that Sir Richard Rich?’

  ‘It was.’

  Dyrick laughed. ‘I think he does not love you, Brother.’

  ‘No,’ I answered quietly. ‘No, he does not.’

  THE OSTLER brought the horses round. There was little space to mount in the crowded street; one of the horses almost backed into a water carrier bent double under his huge conical basket.

  ‘What did that evil little arsehole want?’ Barak whispered.

  ‘Not now. I’ll tell you when we’re on our own.’

  Hobbey looked at David and Hugh. ‘We shall ride down to the bottom of Oyster Street. We should be able to see the big ships anchored at Spithead from there. But then we will leave Master Shardlake to meet his friend and go home.’

  ‘Could we not ride out to South Sea?’ David asked. ‘Look at the new castle?’ There was still a sadness in his face; I thought, he seeks distraction.