by C. J. Sansom
That was bad news. I considered. 'I know one of the army officers; I understand his company are out at sea today.'
'They'll be rowed back to harbour at dusk. There's not room for the soldiers to sleep on the ships.'
'I see. Thank you.'
The two men hurried on. 'I want to find Leacon when he comes back,' I told Barak. 'See if he can get me aboard the Mary Rose.'
'What, you're going to try and speak to West on his ship? If it was him that attacked Ellen, you'll be at his mercy.'
'On a ship full of soldiers and sailors? No. And I'll go alone,' I added. 'A private talk would be best. No arguments, it is decided. Now come, let's pass the afternoon at that inn, keep away from these foul humours.'
Barak gave me a searching, worried look. I turned and walked back out to the busy courtyard. Near the infirmary steps two men in their thirties were talking. One had a stern face, short black beard, and a long dark robe. The other was familiar, a green doublet setting off his coppery beard, a cap with a string of pearls on his head. Sir Thomas Seymour, whom I had last seen with Rich in that doorway at Hampton Court. He stood listening attentively to the other man.
'D'Annebault's a soldier, not a sailor,' the black-bearded man said confidently. 'He can't command a fleet that size—'
'The militia between here and Sussex are ready to stop any landing,' Seymour answered proudly.
Barak and I veered away so that Seymour's back was to us. 'So he's ended up here along with everyone else,' I said quietly. 'And that was Thomas Dudley, Lord Lisle, with him. The Lord Admiral, in charge of all the ships. He was pointed out to me at Westminster once.'
'Looks a fierce fellow.'
I glanced over my shoulder at the commander. He was known as a doughty warrior, a skilled administrator, and a hard man. Dudley caught my look and stared back for a second, his eyes dark in his pale face. I turned quickly away.
'I don't think you should go on that ship,' Barak said insistently.
'I must speak to West, I have to see how he reacts to learning Ellen's father's body has been found. We'll get out of Portsmouth first thing tomorrow, before the King comes,' I added impatiently. 'I'll go on the ship tonight if I have to.'
* * *
WE RETURNED TO the tavern and ordered a meal brought to our room. Afterwards we tried to rest, but the endless talking and shouting from Oyster Street and the wharf made that impossible: and I was impatient, conscious of how little time I had to see West. Then we heard cannon firing again, very close, rattling the shutters which we had closed against the stink. The shot was answered by another, further away.
Barak jumped up from the bed and opened the shutters. 'Christ, is that the French?'
I joined him, looking across Oyster Street at the Camber. The tide was going out, revealing the filthy mud underneath. Men were labouring at the cannon on the Round Tower. There was another tremendous crash and a burst of smoke.
'Let's see what's happening,' Barak said.
We went outside, meeting the innkeeper who was coming from the parlour with a tray of mugs. 'What was that gunfire?' I asked.
He laughed at my anxious look. 'They're testing the cannon at the Round Tower and over at Gosport. Making sure we can cover the harbour entrance if the French appear.' A sneer crossed his face. 'Did you notice a big capstan by the tower?'
'Yes.'
'There's supposed to be a chain with links a foot long stretching across the harbour mouth, that would keep any ship out. But it was taken for repair last year, and it's never come back. So we'll need guns if the French come.'
'I thought for a moment they had.'
'You'll see and hear much more if they do,' the innkeeper said. He walked away.
'That shook me,' Barak admitted. 'Let's get out.'
* * *
WE LEFT THE INN and walked up to the High Street. Outside the Guildhall a crowd had gathered to watch a strange-looking company of soldiers pass by. Instead of armour they wore knee-length tunics under short decorated waistcoats; their legs were bare and they had sandals instead of boots. Most were tall and strongly built, with hard faces under their helmets.
'More mercenaries, by the look of them,' I said. 'I wonder where these are from.'
A boy next to us piped up. 'Ireland, Master,' he said excitedly. 'They're the kerns, they're being paid to fight the French instead of the King's soldiers.'
The Irish marched by, looking neither to left nor right. The crowd dispersed, and a man who had been watching from the Guildhall doorway became visible. It was Edward Priddis. He stared at us for a second, then turned and went back inside. Barak put his hand on my arm, pointing to an open window.
'Look,' he said quietly.
Sir Quintin was seated at a table, glaring out at us. There was another man beside him. He turned, and I saw that it was Richard Rich.
'Oh shit,' Barak whispered.
Rich rose and marched smartly out of the room. A moment later he appeared in the doorway, looking angrier than I had ever seen him, spots of red in his pale cheeks. He marched across the road to me.
'What in hell's name are you doing here?' His voice was quiet as ever, but a vicious hiss rather than his usual mocking tones. 'Why are you pursuing Sir Quintin Priddis like this?' I saw a little tic jump at the corner of his eye. 'I have been hearing about your disgraceful performance at the inquest into that woman's death.'
I made myself look him in the face. 'I did not know you were acquainted with the Hobbeys, Sir Richard.'
'I am not. But I knew Sir Quintin once, and he has told me of your obsession with some supposed injustice to the Hugh Curteys boy, and your persecution—' he almost snarled the word—'of that family. You go too far, master lawyer. Remember where that led you once before. If you have come to trouble Sir Quintin again—'
'My presence in Portsmouth is nothing to do with that case, Sir Richard.'
'Then what are you doing here? Eh?'
'I have legal business—'
'What business? With whom?'
'Sir Richard, you know such information is privileged.'
The flat grey eyes glared into mine, the black pupils like needles. 'How long are you here?'
'I leave tomorrow.'
'When the King comes to Portsmouth. You had better be gone.' He leaned forward. 'Remember I am a privy councillor, Master Shardlake, and this is a city preparing for war. If I wanted, I could have Governor Paulet lock you up as a suspected French spy.'
Chapter Thirty-eight
WE WALKED BACK down the High Street. My mind was in a whirl. 'Jack,' I said. 'This goes deeper than I thought. Rich is personally involved.'
'Did you see his eye twitching? I thought he was going to strike you.'
'I think he went back inside before he lost control of himself. So that's it. That meeting with Rich and Seymour at Hampton Court was truly no accident. He arranged it, he set those corner boys on me. Rich is connected somehow to whatever happened to Hugh. There was something, there is something.' I paused. 'And Michael Calfhill died. And the clerk Mylling . . . If that's so, the scale of this . . .'
'All the more reason to get out of here. You know how dangerous Rich is.'
I considered. 'He could have had me arrested if he wanted to, right there, on some trumped-up charge. But he didn't. Whatever connects him to the Hobbeys and Hugh, he doesn't want me talking of it, to Paulet or anyone.'
'How did he learn you were being brought into that case so early?'
I spoke heavily. 'The only other person who knew what my business was with the Queen that day was Robert Warner.'
'Who you think might be connected to the Rolfswood matter too.'
'And vulnerable to blackmail if he was involved. Blackmail is one of Rich's specialities.'
Barak was looking round carefully as we walked. He said, 'With all the people in the town it would be easy for Rich to get someone to knife you in the guts.'
'No. This is where the Queen's patronage protects me. If anything happened to me now sh
e would leave no stone unturned to find out why. For all his bombast Rich cannot touch me.'
'You think she's that fond of you? Rich still stands high with the King; he's been kept on despite that corruption scandal last year.'
'The Queen would not desert me. If she began an investigation, who knows what might come tumbling out? No, Rich may watch me now, but that is all.'
'Do you think Seymour is involved with Rich in the Curteys matter?'
I shook my head. 'I think it more likely Rich and Seymour were both at Hampton Court that day, and Rich invited Seymour to wait with him for me to come out. It would have been an entertainment for Seymour and would help Rich intimidate me.'
Barak stopped suddenly in the road, ignoring a curse from a passing water carrier. 'Look, can't we just leave now?'
'You can, but I'm staying. Until tomorrow morning, as we agreed.'
He sighed. 'Well, for God's sake keep a careful eye out. Come on, we'll be safer at the wharf. Tonight we sleep with knives at the ready and tomorrow we get out of here first thing.'
'What can it be?' I asked. 'What can connect Rich to second-rank gentry like the Hobbeys?'
He answered curtly, 'Wait till we're back in London, then you can try to find out.'
* * *
RETURNING TO Oyster Street, we walked towards the wharf. Across the Point we saw the Great Harry moving back towards the lines of warships with a heavy, stately slowness, the masts and raised topsail rearing high into the sky. The leviathan confidently manoeuvred its way over to a place in the outer line of ships, in front of the Mary Rose. A number of other ships had untied the big rowboats they pulled behind them, and these now moved carefully round to the side of the giant warship. I made out tiny figures descending some sort of ladder to the rowboats. Two more warships, smaller than the Great Harry but still huge, appeared and made slowly for the line.
'Looks like the soldiers are returning,' Barak said.
We sat on a bench outside one of the warehouses, leaning our backs against the wall. I looked across the harbour to the Gosport shore, where another fort stood opposite the Round Tower. The sun was low now, in a fiery red sky that presaged another hot day.
* * *
THE FIRST GROUP of soldiers to disembark were strangers. They came ashore quietly, with none of the usual talking and jesting, some stumbling a little on the steps. A whiffler drew the men into line and marched them away.
Several more groups landed before Leacon at last appeared at the top of the steps. About half the company followed. Among them familiar faces appeared: Carswell and Tom Llewellyn, Pygeon and Sulyard. Like the earlier groups some wore jacks, others leather or woollen jerkins, and Pygeon wore the brigandyne he had won from Sulyard. Snodin brought up the rear, puffing and blowing as he mounted the steps. Like the earlier groups the men were unusually silent; even Carswell seemed to have no jests this evening. Only the oafish Sulyard seemed in high spirits, his swagger returned. The men formed a ragged line on the wharf, not noticing us in the shadow of the warehouse. One man cast off his helmet and scratched his head. 'These fucking lice!'
'Stop making your moan!' Snodin yelled at him. The whiffler was evidently in a bad temper. 'Whining miserable cur.' Several of the men gave Snodin nasty looks.
I stepped forward and called out to Leacon. He turned, as did the soldiers. Carswell's face brightened a little. ' 'Tis our mascot! Come with us on board the Great Harry again tomorrow, sir, bring us luck!' The other soldiers looked on, surprised that I had turned up again. I heard Sulyard mutter, 'Hunchbacks bring bad luck, not good.'
'Fall out, men,' Leacon ordered. 'Wait over there till the rest of the company arrives.' The men walked wearily to an open space between two warehouses, and Leacon came over and took my hand. 'I thought you had left, Matthew,' he said.
'Tomorrow.'
'The King comes then. As principal archers we have to parade before him outside the town in the morning.'
'We shall be gone before then.'
'That we shall,' Barak agreed firmly. 'We leave first thing.'
Leacon glanced over to where his men stood, many looking weary and anxious. Pygeon cast his brigandyne to the ground, where it made a tinkling noise. Sulyard glared at him. Carswell asked the whiffler, 'Master Snodin, may we get back to camp, get some food?'
'Proper food,' another man said, 'not biscuit you have to knock the weevils out of!' There were murmurs of agreement.
Snodin shouted, 'We'll leave when the rest arrive, with Sir Franklin!'
'Was today their first day on the ships?' I asked Leacon.
'Yes. Not a good day either.'
Everyone jumped and looked round at a tremendous boom. Another cannon shot from the Round Tower. There was an answering flash and boom from the Gosport side.
'What are they doing?' I asked Leacon.
'Practising covering the harbour, should the French try to gain entrance. We should be able to stop them, those cannon have a range of over a mile. But if they defeat our fleet at sea, there will be nothing to prevent them making a landing elsewhere.'
'George,' I said, 'I wonder if I might ask yet another favour.'
He looked at me curiously. 'Yes?'
I nodded at the men. 'It is confidential.'
He sighed. 'Come round the side of the warehouse.'
We went round the corner, out of earshot of the company.
'Did it not go well today?' I asked.
'The whole company has been on the Great Harry. God's death, the size of that ship. It has enough cannon to conquer Hell itself. None of the lads had encountered anything like it. Even when we were climbing up the rope ladder, a gust of wind came and it started swinging to and fro, us clinging on like snails to a drainpipe. I could see the men were terrified of tumbling into the sea. Then on board they all slid and fell with every little movement of the sea. And they didn't like being under that netting.'
'I have heard of it. Fixed above the decks, so boarders would fall on top of it. With soldiers carrying small pikes standing underneath.'
'The mesh on the netting is thick, you feel hemmed in standing under it. And if anything happened to the ship, if it went over, you'd be trapped under it.' He laughed; something wild in the sound made me frown. 'Not that most of the men can swim. We should have been given more time to practise; we've been here a week. The men are getting bored and irritable doing nothing, hence the desertions. You can't easily replace skilled archers. The sailors laughed at them sliding about, which didn't help. The sailors go barefoot, clinging to the deck like cats.'
'Soldiers and sailors must fight the same battle. If it comes.'
'In two or three days, from what they say.' The haunted look was back in his eyes. 'We've been told we're going to the Great Harry. As the flagship she will be at the head of the line. The men are all cast down, and Snodin doesn't help, snarling at them over every grumble they make. Being on the ship, he hasn't had a drink all day and that doesn't aid his temper.' He sighed. 'Well, Matthew, what is this favour?'
'George, I would not trouble you were it not important. But a woman's fate may be at stake. I need to speak again to Philip West, that I saw at the Godshouse.' I took a deep breath. 'He is on the Mary Rose. I want to know if you can help me get on board there, this evening, to talk to him.'
Leacon looked doubtful. 'Matthew, they are only allowing people with official business on the ships.' He looked out to sea. The big rowboats had lit their lanterns now, little points of light dancing on the water. The setting sun outlined the ships from behind in a fiery glow.
'Please,' I said. 'It's important.'
He considered. 'Easy enough to pay a boatman to take us over to the Mary Rose, but getting on board may be another matter even with me there. You certainly won't get on without me. Very well. But I cannot take long, I need to get back to camp; the men are downhearted and they must make ready to parade before the King tomorrow morning.' He brushed away a mosquito; now dark was coming they were starting to whine around our ears.
>
'George, I am more grateful than I can say.'
'First I must wait until the rest of the men arrive with Sir Franklin. He can lead them back to camp, then—'
He broke off. Snodin, out of sight, was yelling furiously. 'Stand up! Stand, you lazy slugs!'
'God's death,' Leacon muttered. 'He'll go too far—' He walked rapidly round the warehouse, Barak and I following. Many of the men now lay sprawled on the ground. Snodin was haranguing them furiously. 'Lazy bastards! Stand up! You're not in your dirty houses now!'
Nobody moved. Carswell said, 'We're tired! Why shouldn't we rest?'
'The captain told you to wait, not lie on the ground like fucking toads!' The whiffler was almost beside himself, purple jowls trembling with fury.
Everyone turned as Leacon appeared. 'Don't talk to Master Snodin like that, Carswell!' he snapped.
Pygeon stood, pointing a shaking finger at the whiffler. 'Sir, he's been throwing abuse at us all day, all we wanted was to rest our legs after being on that ship!'
'Afraid, jug ears?' Sulyard called out contemptuously.
Then a new voice spoke up. 'If going on the flagship's such an honour, let the King come and serve on it!' Snodin turned and stared at Tom Llewellyn. The boy, normally so quiet, had stood up to face him. 'Let King Henry come and do this for sixpence a day, that's worth less than fivepence now!'
'And let us go back and get ready for the harvest!' another man called. Snodin whirled from speaker to speaker, so quickly it made some of the men laugh. Leacon stepped forward and grasped the whiffler by the shoulder. 'Calmly, Master Snodin,' he said in a low voice. 'Calmly.'
Snodin stood, breathing heavily. 'They have to be ready for battle, sir.'
'And they will be!' Leacon raised his voice. 'Come, lads, it's been a hard day, but I have been on ships before and you soon find your balance. And I have seen to it that a cow has been slaughtered for your meal tonight. Stand now, ready for Sir Franklin. See, the rest of the company are pulling up at the wharf!'
For a second nothing happened. Then, slowly, all rose to their feet. Leacon walked Snodin away a short distance and spoke quietly in his ear. Barak and I went over to where Carswell and young Llewellyn stood together nearby. 'Bold words, lad,' Barak said to Llewellyn.