by C. J. Sansom
I lay back, gasping. 'Where are we?'
'In one of the Oyster Street warehouses. They brought all of you here that survived. I'm Edwin, I work on the loading usually.'
I croaked, 'How many? How many saved?'
'Thirty-five pulled alive from the water. Those of you in a bad state were brought here. There are fifteen of you. One died earlier, God rest him.'
'Thirty-five,' I breathed. 'Out of—'
'Five hundred. The rest are at the bottom of the Solent.' His face, tanned and weatherbeaten, was sombre. 'I knew some of them; I was a sailor till I smashed my leg five years ago.'
'Did any soldiers survive?'
'Two or three in the fighting tops managed to cling on. No others. The soldiers were heavy clad, they—'
'Drowned. I saw. And heard the men under the netting, screaming—' My eyes were suddenly hot and stinging, though there was no moisture left in me for tears.
'Here,' the old sailor said, 'easy now. Drink some more beer. You brought up a lot of water in the boat before you lost consciousness.'
I asked, 'Did you see it? Did you see the ship go down?'
'Everyone on shore did. We all heard the screaming too, as the King did at South Sea Castle.'
'He saw the Mary Rose sink?'
'They say he cried out, "Oh, my gallant gentlemen! Oh, my gallant men!" He thought of the gentlemen first, of course,' he added bitterly.
'Why? Why did she sink?'
Edwin shook his head. 'Some are saying the gun ports weren't closed quickly enough as the ship turned. Others have it she was top-heavy with all the cannon, and too many soldiers on board. I heard she might have been hit, too, by the galleys. Whatever the cause, all those men are dead.'
'The French—what happened? The Great Harry fired on the galleys—'
'The galleys went back to the main fleet. They were trying to draw us into deep water to do battle with the French fleet, but Lord Lisle wasn't to be had like that. We'd have been overwhelmed.'
'I saw fires on the Isle of Wight.'
'The French have landed near two thousand men there, but they're being beaten back. The two fleets are still at a stand-off. They're badly led, luckily for us. Though if the wind favours their ships they could still attack ours. You should leave, soon as you can.' He gave me a little more beer, then looked at me curiously. 'We've been wondering, sir, what you were doing on board. You're not a sailor or soldier. You sound like a gentleman.'
'I shouldn't have been there. I intended to get off, but then the ship sailed out.'
'Where were you on the Mary Rose?'
'On the aftercastle. By the walkway over the netting. I managed to crawl out onto it.'
Edwin nodded. 'And you were in your shirt, so you didn't just fall to the bottom like so many.'
I lay back again. Memories of what had happened were returning in fractured jerks: the ship heeling over at that impossible angle, the man grasping at me as I crawled across the walkway, Emma behind. I said, 'There was someone in the water with me—'
Edwin got to his feet, wincing. He had had a fracture below one knee; it had set badly, at a strange angle. 'Yes,' he said, 'there was a boy rescued with you. You were both clinging to the Mary Rose emblem. You were lucky. The boatmen tried to pull the emblem in, but it sank—'
'A boy?'
'Yes. Well-set-up lad, with a scarred face.' He looked at me again. 'Your son, perhaps?'
'No. But sh—he—saved me. Where is he?'
'Gone. I was one of those helping survivors off the boats. He was lying face down underneath you. He seemed unconscious, but when the boat hit the wharf he shoved you off, went up the steps like a monkey and ran away down Oyster Street. We called after him—he seemed injured, holding one arm tight across his chest. But he just kept running. You didn't know him?'
'No. I only wondered what happened to him. He pulled me onto the spar. Tell me, did any officers survive?'
'No. They were all under the netting.'
I remembered West arguing with Carew and the master. So he was dead too, they all were. Vividly, in bright, terrible flashes, I saw Leacon's company falling into the sea, sinking to the bottom in an instant.
* * *
I SLEPT INTERMITTENTLY. The man who had been groaning became quiet; he must have died, for I saw Edwin and his fellows carry a body out, draped in a blanket. It was worse being awake; I kept seeing, again and again, the deaths of Leacon and his men. Then I would remember them tramping down the country lanes, the arguments and jokes and little kindnesses; Leacon riding at the front with Sir Franklin, hating the sound of drums. Edwin and his colleague gave me more to drink, and later tried to make me take a little soup, but I could not bear to eat.
Next time I woke it was daylight. I felt rested now, in body at least. I looked at the man on the sacks next to me, a young sailor. He said something in Spanish. I was too tired to remember the few words I knew and shook my head apologetically. I struggled to get to my feet, but only managed three faltering steps before my head swam and I had to grasp at a pillar. Edwin limped towards me. 'You're still weak, sir,' he said. 'You were insensible some time, you should lie down again. Try to eat something.'
'I can't.' A horrible thought struck me. 'Have any of the king's officials been here?'
He laughed bitterly. 'No. The royal party haven't left South Sea Castle and the tents.'
'The Queen—is she there?'
'No. At Portchester. The only visitor we've had is from the town council; they're arguing with Governor Paulet over whether they or the army should pay for the care of those here.' He gave me that inquisitive look again. 'Were you expecting someone?'
I shook my head. I let go of the pillar, and staggered back to my sacks.
* * *
WHEN NEXT I woke night had fallen again. I was conscious of someone sitting next to me and sat up with a start. It was Barak, on a stool, with a lamp next to him.
'Jack?' I asked hesitantly, for my dreams had been peopled with phantoms.
He took a deep breath. 'Ay.'
'How did you get here?'
'When you didn't arrive at Petersfield I rode back to Hoyland to see if they had news of you or Emma. They said neither of you had returned so I rode down here. I arrived this morning and learned Leacon's company had gone down with the Mary Rose. I could see the top of the masts sticking out of the water. I thought you were fucking dead,' he burst out in sudden anger. 'Then I learned some survivors had been brought here and came to see.'
'I was on the aftercastle, I managed to get off into the water. Emma rescued me.'
'She lives too?'
'Yes, but when the boat brought us ashore she ran away. On the ship—I told Leacon who she was; he made her take off her jack and helmet, open her shirt. I exposed her as a woman. But it saved her. Jack, they're all gone. Leacon, Carswell, Llewellyn, everyone we knew.' Tears sprang to my eyes. 'It was my fault, it was because of me that Rich put them on that ship—' I started to weep.
Then Barak did something I would never have expected—he leaned forward and took me in his arms.
* * *
LATER I WAS able to sit up. I told Barak the story—my imprisonment by West, the scenes on the aftercastle, escaping via the walkway and being helped by Emma in the water. He told me he had picked up some letters that had been delivered to Hoyland—Tamasin was well, but worried that he had not returned to London. Guy said Coldiron was becoming troublesome and surly over his protectiveness towards Josephine.
'That doesn't surprise me,' I said.
He did not reply for a moment, then burst out angrily, 'Why didn't you send me a message?'
'I'm sorry. All I could think of was that our friends died because of me.'
'If it hadn't been George Leacon's company, it would have been another, a different set of women and children mourning.'
'But knowing them—' I shook my head desperately—'knowing them makes all the difference.'
'It was Richard Rich put them on the Mary Rose,' he
said.
'Because he knew West was there. I saw them fall into the water. They never had a chance. I should have died with them: that would have been justice.'
'What good would that do? Another man dead? Me left to tell Tamasin and Guy? I thought I was going to have to do that, you know.'
I looked at him. 'I am sorry.' I sighed. 'How is David? I should have asked—I cannot seem to order my thoughts.'
'Dyrick was still at the priory, he wouldn't let me see Hobbey or David.' Barak looked at me hard. 'You should ride out and tell them Emma's alive. They'll have heard the Mary Rose went down with five hundred men by now, they'll be worried if they don't hear. You could get up if you'd eat something. That Edwin says you won't.'
'I can't eat.' I sat silent for a moment. 'Philip West—he had the death in action he wanted.'
'Action? He died because the arseholes in charge of this mess overloaded the Mary Rose and put a man who knew nothing of ships in charge. So they're saying in the taverns, anyway.'
'Just before Leacon and I went up to the aftercastle, we saw West. I looked at him—he knew I would bring him to account. I was so full of—righteousness. As I have been all along.'
'Does Rich think you're dead?' Barak asked.
'I don't know. I thought he might come here. But no one from the court has been.'
'Then with West dead, Ellen may be in danger from him. Have you thought of that?'
I put my head in my hands. 'I can't think of anything but those men—'
He reached out and grasped my hand roughly. 'It's time you pulled yourself together. Come, rouse yourself, there are still things to be done.'
Chapter Forty-nine
IT WAS ANOTHER DAY before I felt able to set out. Barak had forced me to eat, and had even gone out into Portsmouth to find new clothes for me. Gunfire still sounded frequently during the day. He told me the French had been repelled from the Isle of Wight, but the two fleets still stood facing each other, the French were sending galleys forward to try and hit our ships and tempt us out, though after the loss of the Mary Rose only our galleasses had been sent against them. In Portsmouth he managed to find a tailor, who supplied me with an outfit which made me look, if not a lawyer, at least like a gentleman.
'They fear the French will try to land elsewhere,' Barak said when he had given me the clothes. 'There are still soldiers coming in—I heard the King has ordered a new levy from London, and more shot from the Sussex ironworks. We have to go,' he concluded.
We were still in the old warehouse, sitting on stools and eating pottage by the pile of sacks that had become my bed. Most of the men who had been brought to the warehouse had left now; besides me there were only three with broken limbs and one poor sailor, very young, who seemed to have lost his mind and spent most of the time weeping in a corner. I had not been able to face going outside; I dreaded the prospect of looking again at the open sea. I had thought, was this how it began for Ellen?
'They want to try and refloat the Mary Rose when it's safe,' Barak said. 'Bring in Italian engineers, to recover the guns, at least.' He hesitated. 'The topmasts can be seen above the water at low tide.'
I kept silent. Barak put down his bowl. 'Right,' he said in businesslike tones. 'You know what we're going to do tomorrow.'
'Yes. We go to Portchester Castle and I ask to see the Queen.'
'I've confirmed she's still there, and the King at the tents. You talk to the Queen and then we go home. The horses are still stabled at the inn. We can stop at Hoyland on the way home, if you wish.'
I smiled sadly. 'We have indeed changed places, have we not? It is you who thinks everything out, makes plans for me to implement.'
'Always was that way really, if you ask me.'
I laughed, but it was a hollow sound. My mind kept returning to those images of the Mary Rose sinking; sometimes they crowded at me so I could not think. It was Barak who had worked out that to ensure Ellen's safety now I must go to the Queen, tell her Rich's secret.
I said, 'West would have died on the Mary Rose whatever happened, wouldn't he?'
'Of course he would,' Barak answered with the sort of irritated patience that was starting to creep into his voice. 'He was a senior officer, wasn't he?'
'Yes. For his death at least I have no responsibility.'
'Nor the others. It was the ship being overloaded with soldiers, the gun ports cut too close to the water, or any one of the other reasons being bruited around. Whatever it was, it wasn't you.'
'I think I will never be the same,' I said quietly. 'This has broken me.'
'You'll see things clearly with time; you always do.'
'I hope so, Jack. I hope so.'
* * *
WE SET OUT early the next morning. Yet another hot July day. My heart began thumping as soon as I stepped out of the warehouse.
'Ships all in the same places,' Barak said. 'The French haven't sent the galleys forward yet today.'
I looked out across the Point. The fleet still rode at anchor out on the Solent, in fact more small ships had joined it, but one great ship was missing. Though it set my stomach fluttering with fear, my eyes searched out over the water. 'You can't see the masts from here,' Barak said gently.
'Will they send word to the families of the men who were lost? Leacon's company came from Hertfordshire.'
Barak looked out at the ships. 'They won't be able to send anyone. Returning soldiers will tell the families when this is over.'
'I will tell Leacon's parents at least, go to Kent. Dear God, I owe them that.'
He answered gently, 'Let's get our business done and return to London first.'
We walked towards the inn where Oddleg was stabled. A company of tired-looking soldiers marched past us towards the wharf. I studied their faces, then asked quietly, 'When you were out in the city yesterday, I don't suppose there was any sign of Emma?'
'I asked around, spoke to the soldiers at the gate. No one remembers a brown-haired boy in a torn shirt. I think she's got herself away.'
* * *
WE FOUND THE horses and rode out through the town gate: I left Portsmouth for the last time with head bowed, unable to look back. There were new soldiers in the tents where Leacon's company had been encamped. We spurred the horses to a canter, riding north across Portsea Island, and crossed the bridge over the muddy creek to the Hampshire mainland; then left, to Portchester Castle. I kept my gaze away from the seaward side of the road; I could not bear to look out there.
I had no letter now, no authority to get into the castle. I dared not ask for Warner. But faced with the guards by the moat I found my fear and shrinking left me, my lawyer's tricks of speech and manner came back and I told them—truthfully enough—that I was a lawyer who worked for the Queen and had been on the Mary Rose. I managed to get the name out, although it brought a fresh churning to my stomach.
I had expected the officer in charge to be impressed, but he only looked at me dubiously. 'What was a lawyer doing on the Mary Rose? There's dozens round Portsmouth now saying they're survivors of the sinking. Most are hoping for pensions. If you're a lawyer, where's your robe?'
I lost my temper. 'At the bottom of the Solent! I tell you, I was on that ship; it will haunt me all my days! Now get a message to the Queen, it's urgent. She'll see me. If she won't, you can throw me in the moat for all I care.'
He looked at me doubtfully again, but sent a soldier to take my message in. Barak clapped me on the arm. 'That's better,' he said in relieved tones. 'See, you're getting back to your old self.'
I did not reply. Seeing the soldiers had made me think again of Leacon and the company, the water splashing up around them as they fell and drowned. I gripped Oddleg's reins, saw my knuckles turn white.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR later I was shown into a richly furnished chamber. Barak had been ordered to wait in the courtyard. The Queen sat at a desk, writing. As ever, two maids-in-waiting were with her, sewing in a bay window. They rose and bowed. Robert Warner stood beside the
desk. He gave me an angry stare as I bowed deeply to the Queen. She got up. I saw she still looked strained and tired.
'The guard told me you were on the Mary Rose, Matthew?' she said gently.
'I was, your majesty.' I found I was blinking back tears. At a nod from the Queen, Warner guided me to a chair. Queen Catherine stood, hands folded over her lap, looking down at me.
'What happened?' she asked softly.
I took a deep breath, but for a moment no words came. 'I am sorry, your majesty. I hastened to get here, but—forgive me, I find it hard to speak.' My voice trembled.
'Take your time.' The Queen waved at her ladies. 'Rosamond, bring some wine.'
After a few moments I collected myself. I said, 'I have the answer to what was done to Hugh Curteys. And to poor Michael Calfhill, who was driven to kill himself. And then—I have something to tell you about Sir Richard Rich and the woman I know in the Bedlam. Something dark and secret.'
Warner spoke for the first time. 'If it involves Rich, your majesty, you should be careful. Master Shardlake, is this something safe for the Queen to know?'
I hesitated, then said, 'Perhaps you are right. My judgement of late has been wanting, God knows.'
The Queen smiled, that sudden touch of irrepressible humour. 'No, Matthew, you cannot lead me this far up the path and then abandon me. Tell me everything, and I shall judge what is to be done.'
So I told her the story of my discovery at Hoyland, and Emma's attack on David, though I minimized the extent of David's injuries and did not say that he had killed Abigail. I told of Emma's flight to Portsmouth, my bargain with Rich and the journey to the Mary Rose, my imprisonment by West. And the ship rolling over beneath me and sinking. At that my voice faltered again.
After I finished the Queen was silent a full minute. Her shoulders slumped, then rose again with resolution. She asked quietly, 'Have you no idea what has become of Emma Curteys?'
'No. Though she has no money, and left Portsmouth in nothing but a shirt.'
'Rogues!' she burst out, in a fury such as I had never seen before, her colour rising. 'Rogues and villains, to do that to a young girl for money. And as for what Richard Rich did, that is even worse. Well, the girl Emma may be gone but Rich shall not imperil the safety of that poor woman in the Bedlam!'