by C. J. Sansom
'What about your house?' Tamasin asked. 'That pig of a steward?'
'I will have to ask Guy to take charge of the household. I didn't want to trouble him, but I see no alternative. And I want him to keep an eye on someone for me.'
'Ellen?' Barak asked.
'Yes.'
'That woman,' Tamasin said. 'She only brings you trouble.' I did not reply, and she looked at Barak again. 'This is the only way to stop you being conscripted, isn't it?'
Barak nodded. 'I think so. I am so sorry.'
Tamasin looked at me again. 'Hurry back as soon as you can.' She clutched her husband's hand tighter. 'Keep him safe.'
'And you keep my son safe,' Barak said. 'My John.'
Tamasin smiled sadly. 'My Johanna.'
* * *
THE FOLLOWING morning I returned to the Bedlam. I knew Keeper Shawms usually took a long lunch at a nearby tavern and was unlikely to be there. Hob Gebons answered the door. He did not look pleased to see me.
'God's nails! He told you to stay away! If he finds you—'
'He won't be back from the tavern for an hour.'
'You can't see her. He's ordered her kept tied up till this evening. No visitors.'
'It's you I wanted to see, Hob. Come, let me in. Everyone that passes through the yard can see us talking. It's all right, I'm not after information.'
'I wish I'd never set eyes on your bent back,' Hob growled, but he allowed me to follow him inside and into the little office. I heard a murmur of voices from the parlour.
'How is she?'
'Taking her meals. But she hasn't said a word since Sunday.' He gave his hard little laugh. I bit my lip; I hated the thought of Ellen being tied up, and because of things I had said to her.
'I am going away tomorrow. For ten days or so.'
'Good.'
'I want you to ensure Ellen is well looked after. That she's allowed to go about her business again. If she—if she becomes wild again, stop her being ill-treated.'
'You speak as though I run this place. I don't.'
'You are Shawms's deputy. You have day-to-day care of the patients and can make their treatment better, or worse.' I reached into my purse and held up a gold sovereign. Gebons's eyes fixed on it.
'There's another if I come back and find she's been well treated.'
'God's teeth, you're willing to spend enough money on her.'
'And I'm going to arrange for my doctor friend to visit while I am away and write to me about her progress.'
'That brown-faced fellow you brought when Adam Kite was here? He used to scare the patients.'
'Make sure he is allowed to see her.' I waved the coin.
Hob nodded. 'Where are you going?' he asked.
'To Hampshire, to take depositions in a case.'
'Make sure the Frenchies don't get you. Though my life would be easier if they did.'
I handed over the coin. 'Can I see Ellen? Not to talk to her, just see how she is?'
Hob hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. 'Just as well for you the ones that aren't locked up are having their lunch in the parlour under Palin's eye.' He stood. 'Quick, now.' He gestured me out, and led me down the corridor to Ellen's closed door. He pulled back the viewing hatch. Ellen was lying on the bed, in the same position as on Sunday, her bound hands in her lap. She seemed not to have moved at all. She stared at me, that same fierce accusing look. It unnerved me. It was as though a different person from the Ellen I knew lay there.
* * *
THAT AFTERNOON I visited Hampton Court again, climbing the stairs to Warner's office. He was silent when I told him the investigation was to proceed, and looked relieved when I said that Paulet would countenance no further pressure from the Queen.
'You are sorry this matter is going ahead.'
'To be honest, yes. Though I am concerned for you as well. There is some news I should tell you. The King and Queen are going to Portsmouth next week, to review the King's ships that are gathering there. Half the Privy Council are going too. There is a great flurry at Whitehall to get everything organized, as you may imagine.'
'If the King and Queen are going there, it sounds as though the spies' reports were true and the French are heading for Portsmouth.'
'So it would seem. There is a great fleet gathering at the French Channel ports. It is as well you are going tomorrow, you will probably be on your way home again before the royal party gets to Hampshire. Your old friend Sir Richard Rich is to go too. I hear he has been given a position organizing supplies for the soldiers and sailors.'
'After the accusations of corruption against him last year?'
'The king always valued expertise.'
I took a deep breath. 'Well, I have to go. The die is cast now. Will you be accompanying the Queen south?'
He nodded.
'I was going to ask if you could arrange for letters to me and Barak to be brought to Horndean, near Hoyland, using the royal messengers.'
'I can do that. And if you wish to write to me, messengers will be calling on the royal party as it journeys south.'
'Thank you. By the way, I no longer need a clerk but would very much welcome a trusty strong fellow to accompany us on our journey.'
'I have a good man I can let you have. I will send him to your house tomorrow.'
'Thank you.'
'Safe journey,' he said.
I bowed. 'And to you.'
* * *
THAT EVENING I spoke to Guy. I had already told him the outlines of the Curteys case and he knew I might have to go to Hampshire. I had been dubious about asking him to look after both Ellen and Tamasin, but to my relief he seemed pleased to have some responsibilities again. He said he was happy, also, to take charge of the household while I was away. I began to think, he is coming out of his melancholy. I had to tell him of Ellen's outburst, and I warned him not to press her about her past, which he agreed would only do harm just now.
I spent the next day in chambers, placing my papers in order and leaving instructions for Skelly. The last two days had been beautiful; the stormy weather seemed a distant memory. I hoped fervently that the good weather would continue.
I left chambers late in the afternoon. As I walked across Gatehouse Court, I thought again of Dyrick. I did not relish the time I must now spend with him and his strange little clerk. At least Barak would be with me. And I had sworn to myself that I would not involve him in my investigation of Ellen's past.
I was not pleased, on entering the house, to see Coldiron bent at the closed parlour door, obviously listening to a conversation within. He jumped up. 'I thought I saw mouse droppings on the floor,' he said quickly.
'I see nothing,' I answered coldly.
He put his hand to his eyepatch. 'My vision is not what it was, with only one eye.' He smiled obsequiously. Since the letter from Hampton Court his manner towards me had become full of awed respectfulness.
'I am going away tomorrow,' I told him, 'for ten days or so. To the south coast.'
He nodded eagerly, bringing his skinny hands together and performing a half bow. 'Is it royal business, sir? To do with the war, perhaps? Setting those Frenchies to rights?'
'Legal business.'
'Ah, I wish I was still young enough to fight those French gamecocks myself. As I did at Flodden. When I cut the Scotch King down the Earl of Surrey himself praised me—'
'Arrangements will need to be made for while I am away—'
'You can rely on me, sir. I'll keep everyone in order. The tradesmen, the boys, JoJo—'
'I am leaving Dr Malton in charge of the household.'
I enjoyed the sight of his face falling. He said in a whining tone, 'In my last place the steward was in charge when the master went away.'
'When there is a gentleman staying in the house, like Dr Malton, he should be in charge.' Coldiron gave me one of his quick, vicious looks. 'Now, I am hungry,' I said lightly. 'Go and see how supper is progressing.'
I entered the parlour, curious to see what he had been lis
tening to. Guy was sitting at the table with Josephine. She had bared her right arm, showing a blistered red mark running from her hand up her wrist, which Guy was bathing with lavender oil. Its smell filled the room.
'Josephine burned her hand,' Guy said.
She stared at me anxiously. 'I am sorry, sir, only good Dr Malton offered to help—'
'I am glad he did. That burn looks nasty.'
'It is,' Guy said. 'I do not think she should use the hand for a little while. She should put oil on it four times a day.'
'Very good.' I smiled. 'Do light work only till Dr Malton orders otherwise.'
She looked frightened. 'But Father—'
'I will speak to your father. Do not worry.'
Josephine looked between me and Guy. Tears came to her eyes. 'You are so kind, sirs, both of you.' She rose, knocking a stoppered bottle of ointment off the table. Guy caught it deftly and handed it to her. 'Keep this safe,' he said.
'Oh, thank you, sir. I am so clumsy. I am so sorry.' She curtsied, then left the room with her hurried little steps. Guy looked at me seriously.
'That burn is three or four days old. She says her father told her to go on working. She must have been in agony handling things.'
'He is a brute. Guy, are you sure you are willing to have charge of him while I'm away?'
'Yes.' He smiled. 'I think so.'
'Handle him as you think fit. I will arrange for a new steward as soon as I return, then he can go.' I hesitated. 'Though I am concerned for Josephine.'
'She relies on him so utterly.' He looked at me. 'I am not sure she is quite as stupid as she seems. Only used to being afraid.'
I said musingly, 'I wonder if there might be some way of detaching her from Coldiron.'
'You have enough responsibility with Ellen.' He looked at me keenly, then asked quietly, 'What should I say, Matthew, if she tells me she is in love with you?'
I blushed deeply. 'Can you say you do not know the answer?'
'But I do.'
'Then tell her she must talk to me about it.'
He looked at me with his penetrating brown eyes. 'She may decide to do so. What will you do then?'
'Let me see what I can find out in Sussex.'
'I suspect it may be nothing good.'
I was relieved to be interrupted by a loud knocking at the front door. 'Excuse me,' I said.
A young messenger wearing the Queen's badge prominently on his doublet stood in the doorway. Coldiron had let him in and was staring with wide eyes at the badge.
'A message from Master Warner, sir,' the young man said.
I turned to Coldiron. 'The supper,' I said. Reluctantly he returned to the kitchen. The messenger handed me the letter. I read it. 'Damnation,' I breathed.
It was from Warner. He told me he could not after all send the man he had promised; like many of the stout bodyservants at Hampton Court, he had that day been conscripted.
'Is there a reply, sir?' the messenger asked.
'No reply,' I said. I closed the door. It was not like Warner to let me down, but there were even stronger pressures on those working at court than on those outside. I thought, we leave tomorrow morning, it is too late to find anyone else now. I was more thankful than ever that I had not told Barak about what Ellen had blurted out to me about men burning. Now I would have to try to deal with that matter on my own.
Part Two
THE JOURNEY
Chapter Twelve
I ROSE SHORTLY after dawn on Wednesday, the first of July. I donned a shirt and light doublet, pulled on my leather riding boots and walked downstairs in the half-light. I remembered how, whenever I had set out on a journey before, Joan would be up no matter how early the hour, bustling around to ensure I had everything I needed.
At the foot of the stairs Coldiron and Josephine stood waiting, my panniers on the floor beside them. There was too much for me to carry alone and I had ordered Coldiron to walk with me to the river stairs, where I was to meet Barak.
Josephine curtsied. 'Good morning, sir,' Coldiron said. 'It looks like a fine day for travelling.' His eyes were hungry with curiosity; he thought I was going on royal business.
'Good morning. And to you, Josephine. Why are you up so early?'
'She can carry one of the panniers,' Coldiron answered. Josephine gave me a nervous smile and held up a small linen bag. 'There's some bread and cheese here, sir, some slices of ham. And a sweet pastry I got at market.'
'Thank you, Josephine.' She blushed and curtsied again.
Outside, it was already warm, the sky cloudless. I walked down a deserted Chancery Lane, Coldiron and Josephine behind me. Fleet Street was silent, all the buildings shuttered, a few beggars asleep in shop doorways. Then my heart quickened at the sight of four blue-robed apprentices leaning against the Temple Bar. They detached themselves and approached with a slow, lounging walk. All wore swords.
'Special watch,' one said as he came up. He was a thin, spotty youth, no more than eighteen. 'You're abroad early, sir. It's another hour till curfew ends.'
'I am a lawyer going to catch a boat at Temple Stairs,' I answered shortly. 'These are my servants.'
'My master is on important business,' Coldiron snapped. 'You lot should be in the army, not making trouble here.'
The apprentice grinned at him. 'What happened to your eye, old man?'
'Lost at the Battle of Flodden, puppy.'
'Come on,' I said. We crossed the street. Behind us one of the boys called out, 'Cripples!'
We passed into Middle Temple Lane. A thin, chill river mist surrounded us as we walked through Temple Gardens. Barak was waiting at the stairs, his own pannier at his feet. He had found an early boatman, whose craft was tied up; the lantern was lit, a yellow halo in the mist.
'All ready?' Barak asked. 'This fellow will take us to Kingston.'
'Good. How is Tamasin?'
'Tearful last night. I left home quietly without waking her.' He looked away. I turned to Coldiron. 'Put those in the boat. Barak's too.'
As Coldiron descended the steps I spoke quietly to Josephine. 'Dr Malton is in charge while I am away,' I said. 'He will be your friend.' I wondered if she understood I meant she could appeal to Guy against her father, but she only nodded, her expression blank as usual.
Coldiron reappeared, panting in an exaggerated way. Barak stepped down to the boat. 'Goodbye, Coldiron,' I said. 'Take care to do everything Dr Malton asks.' His eye glittered at me again in that nasty way. As I descended the slimy steps I knew he would have liked to pitch me in the water, on royal service or not.
* * *
ON THE RIVER the mist was thick. Everything was silent, the only sound the swish of the oars. A flock of swans glided past, quickly vanishing again. The boatman was old, with a lined, tired face. A large barge passed us, with a dozen men at the oars. Fifty or so young men sat in it, all in white coats with the red cross of England on the front. They were unnaturally quiet, their faces pale discs in the mist. But for the plashing of the oars it might have been a ship of ghosts.
The mist thinned as the sun rose, bringing a welcome warmth, and as we approached Kingston river traffic appeared. We pulled up at the old stone wharf. I looked across the river at the wooded expanse of Hampton Court Park. The Queen would already be preparing her household for the journey.
We walked down a short street to the marketplace. Dyrick had sent me a message to meet him and Feaveryear at an inn called the Druid's Head. Barak, who had shouldered two of the panniers, remained silent and thoughtful. I gave him an enquiring look. 'Thank you for getting me out of that mess,' he said quietly. 'That boat full of soldiers we saw, I could have been in one like that through my foolishness.'
'Well, thank goodness you are safe now.'
We entered the inn courtyard. There was a large stable, the doors wide open, several horses in the stalls. Next to it was a forge, where a sweating blacksmith hammered horseshoes at an anvil beside a glowing furnace. We turned into the inn. The parlour was almost deserted
save for two men breakfasting at a table, their caps and two sets of spurs on the bench beside them. Dyrick and Feaveryear. We approached and bowed. Feaveryear half-rose, but Dyrick only nodded.
'Good, you're here,' he grunted. 'We should get started.'
'We left London at first light,' I answered pointedly.
'I travelled down last night, to meet Feaveryear and look at the horses. A man of countenance expects a reasonable horse.'
'We have four good horses, and a fifth for the panniers,' Feaveryear said smugly. Greasy hair hung over his forehead as usual. He looked tired, though Dyrick was his customary energetic self. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and stood up briskly.
'We should go. We need to reach Cobham tonight, nine miles away and I hear the Portsmouth road is full of soldiers and supply carts. Bring the panniers, Sam.' Dyrick reached for his cap and led the way to the stables. Barak smiled and shook his head, earning a look of rebuke from Feaveryear.
We entered the stable building. Dyrick nodded at the ostler. 'The others have arrived at last,' he said. 'Are the horses saddled and ready?'
'Yes, sir. We'll bring them into the yard.'
We went outside. The ostler and a boy led out five horses. They were all big, strong-looking beasts, with coats of brown and dappled grey. 'You have done well,' I said to Feaveryear.
'My master said not to spare the purse. It is five pounds for the return journey.'
'God's warts,' Barak breathed beside me.
'There's a premium on horses now,' the ostler explained.
'I suggest you pay the man, Brother Shardlake,' Dyrick said. 'You can reclaim it from your client when she loses. Or her pay-mistress.'
'I will pay half. That is what the court would expect. We can meet our own expenses till the outcome is known.'
Dyrick sighed, but fetched out his purse.
'Might we get to near Portsmouth in four days?' I asked the ostler.
He shook his head. 'You'll be lucky, sir. I'd plan on six or seven, the roads are so full.'
'There, Master Shardlake,' Dyrick said. 'I knew how it would be.'
We mounted, Dyrick and I in front and Barak and Feaveryear behind, the horse with the panniers secured to Feaveryear's horse with a line. As we rode into the street a rider sped into the inn yard, his horse's flanks sweating. I saw he wore the badge of the King's household. A harbinger, responsible for checking the King's route in advance of a royal journey.