Heartstone (12 page)

'If you were their age again and single, would you not be singing along with them?'

'No. I've never run with the crowd, particularly if it's heading over a cliff.' Barak wiped his mouth, took another swig.

I looked at his near-empty tankard. 'Slow down.'

'I don't drink much now. You know that. It was that which parted me from Tamasin. Not that it's always easy. It's all right for you to lecture that never drinks enough to drown a mouse.'

I smiled sadly. It was true I drank little. Even now I remembered my father, after my mother died, spending his evenings in the tavern. I would be in bed and would hear him being helped upstairs by the servants, stumbling on the steps, mumbling nonsense. I had sworn never to end like that. I shook my head. 'What did you find out today?'

'I think there's something odd about Michael Calfhill's death,' he said in a low voice. 'I talked to Michael's neighbours, saw the local constable. He's an old gabblemouth, so I took him for a drink. He said Michael had a spot of trouble with some local apprentices. Corner boys, standing around looking tough, with eyes peeled for French spies.'

'What sort of trouble?'

'The constable heard them shouting after Michael as he passed. Apparently the lads didn't like the way Michael looked at them.'

'What way?'

'As though he'd have liked to get into their codpieces.'

My eyes widened. 'There mustn't be a word of that at the hearing. What did the neighbours say?'

'There's a young couple in the room below Michael's. They didn't see him much, just heard him on the stairs, sometimes pacing in his room. The night he died they were woken by a crash. The husband went upstairs but couldn't get an answer, so he called the constable. He barged the door open and found Michael swinging from the roof-beam. Michael had cut a strip from the bedsheet and made a noose, then stood on a chair and kicked it away. That was what made the bang.' Barak leaned forward, animated now. 'I asked the young couple if they heard any footsteps going up or down the stairs. They didn't, but the room's only one storey up. And the constable said the window was open.'

'It's summer, that's no surprise.'

'I'm just saying someone could have got in while Michael was asleep, strangled him, then strung him up.' Barak smiled, his old conspiratorial smile. 'We can get into the room tomorrow if you like, take a look. It hasn't been let. The constable left the key with the young couple. I told them I might be back with someone.'

'I'll think about it. What about that vicar?'

'He's still at the same church, St Evelyn's in Fall Lane. Master Broughton. He wasn't there, the verger said to come back tomorrow at eleven.'

I smiled. 'Well done. We might have a witness after all. And we need one.' I told him about my visit to the Court of Wards. 'You got off lightly if you only had to pay out some some beer money. It cost me three shillings in good silver to get Mylling's help. We'll go and see the vicar tomorrow. And, yes, I'll have a look at Michael's lodging. Though his mother said the note was definitely in his hand.' I frowned. 'I wonder if whatever he found in Hampshire might have sent him out of his wits.'

The voices of the gang beyond the partition had grown louder, and now I heard Coldiron's voice, a grating shout. 'Men nowadays are too womanly! Sleeping out's all right! Get some branches and put blankets over them and you're as snug as a pig!'

'I'd rather huggle with my pretty pussy!'

Coldiron shouted above the laughter. 'Plenty of pussy in the army! Camp followers! Dirty girls, but they know what they're doing! Come lads, who's going to get me another drink?'

'You made a bad choice there,' Barak said.

'I know. I'm going to get rid of him as soon as I can find someone else.'

Barak drained his mug. 'D'you want another beer? Don't worry, this'll be my last.'

'All right. But don't catch Coldiron's eye.'

While Barak fetched the drinks I sat thinking. When he returned I said, 'I found out something about Ellen at the Court of Wards. She has never been registered as a lunatic.'

'Then how did she get to the Bedlam?'

'That's what I intend to find out. Someone has been paying. Warden Metwys is in it, he has to be. And all the Bedlam wardens back nineteen years. The wardenship is an office of profit, sold to courtiers.'

Barak said, 'You'll end up more involved with her than ever.'

I shook my head. 'I won't. I can't.'

'Look, at the moment Ellen's got somewhere to live, a job of sorts. If you delve into family secrets, whoever's been paying the Bedlam might stop. Then the warden might kick her out. Where does she go then - your house?'

I sighed, for he spoke sense. 'I'll move quietly, carefully. But if I go to Portsmouth I can't miss the chance to find out what happened at Rolfswood.'

'Do you think you will?'

'If the case is allowed to go ahead next Monday, probably. Listen, tomorrow I will go and see Alderman Carver about this mess you've got yourself into. He owes me a favour. Then we can visit this vicar, see what he knows about the Curteys family. Bess will have to attend the hearing on Monday, by the way. I'm seeing her on Saturday. I don't want her to know about Michael giving those corner boys looks. If he did.'

'Maybe they decided to kill him.'

'For giving them looks? Don't be silly.'

'What if we don't come up with anything against Hobbey from the vicar?'

'Then it's more difficult. I'll have to rely on the severity of Michael's allegations and throw in the fact the wardship was put through very hurriedly. If need be I will say the Hobbey family need to answer interrogatories. If the court agrees, I'll probably have to go down to Hampshire and take them myself. I'll see Dyrick after we've found out whether there is any useful witness evidence.'

'You'll need someone with you if you go. This could be a dirty business. Ellen's matter too.'

'You're not going, not with Tamasin about to give birth. A gentleman might take a steward on such a journey, but I'd rather join the army myself than take Coldiron. I'll arrange something with Warner.' I shook my head. 'Wardship. Do you know what the motto of the Court of Wards is? Emblazoned above the door. "Pupillis Orphanis et Viduis Adiutor." '

'You know I'm no hand at Latin.'

'It means, a helper to wards, orphans and widows. There's a verbal reference to Maccabees, about the aftermath of a war: "when they had given part of the spoils to the maimed, and the widows, and orphans." '

'Now you're showing off.'

'It just struck me that whoever invented that had a dark sense of humour.'

Barak was quiet a moment, then said, 'I can think of a candidate.'

'Who?'

'I remember Lord Cromwell telling me he had been given an idea that could bring great revenue to the King. By granting out the lands of the monasteries on terms of knight service, bringing all the buyers within the scope of wardship.' He looked at me steadily. 'The man who gave him the idea was the head of the Court of Augmentations, which dealt with the monastic properties.'

'Richard Rich.'

'He was in charge of liveries in the old Office of Wards too. He put the two ideas together.'

'I'd forgotten Rich used to deal with wardships.'

'That rat has had a finger in every dirty pie. He betrayed my master that gave him office. Turned on him and condemned him when he lost the King's favour.' Barak clenched his fist, hard.

'You still remember Cromwell with affection.'

'Yes.' There was defiance in his tone. 'He was like a father to me. He took me off the streets when I was a lad. How could I not remember him well?'

'He was the hardest of men. Promoted many of the hard men we have over us now. Like Sir William Paulet.'

Barak shifted in his seat. 'I didn't like a lot of the things he got me to do,' he said quietly. 'Organizing spies and informers, occasionally frightening someone he thought needed it. But the people against him at court were no better, they hated him for his lowly origins as much as his radical religion. I sometimes still think of those days, my old work. Sometimes it used to make me feel alive.'

'Doesn't Tamasin make you feel alive? And the prospect of the child?'

He looked at me as seriously as he ever had. 'Yes. More than anything. But it's a different sort of alive. I know I can't have both.' He was silent a moment, then stood. 'Come, I'd best get back or I'll be in more trouble.'

Beyond the partition the shouting and singing continued. As I walked past, I turned my head to avoid Coldiron's eye. One of the students was sprawled across the table now, dead drunk. Coldiron's voice sounded out again, slurred now.

'Twenty years I was a soldier. I've served in Carlisle, Boulogne, even in the Tower. All in the King's service.' His voice rose. 'I killed the Scottish King. At Flodden, that great and mighty battle. The Scottish pikemen ran down the hill at us, their cannons firing behind, but we did not flinch.'

'Englishmen never flinch!' one of the students shouted, and the group slapped their hands loudly on the table.

'Did you never want to settle down, Master Coldiron?' one of the apprentices asked.

'With this face? Never. Besides, who wants a woman bossing them around? Ever heard the saying, "There is but one shrew in the world and every man has her for a wife!"'

Laughter from the table followed us as we went out. And I thought, if you never married, then who is Josephine?

Chapter Seven

N
EXT MORNING
I set out for the Guildhall towards ten. I had sent Timothy round to Alderman Carver's house the previous night with a message, and he had returned saying Carver could not see me earlier. It was a nuisance, for I had much to do. I had then sent a note to Barak's house saying I would meet him outside St Evelyn's church at eleven.

After breakfast I again put on my best robe, coif and cap to impress Alderman Carver. I went into the parlour, where Guy, having breakfasted early as usual, was sitting at the table, reading his treasured copy of Vesalius's
De Humani Corporis Fabrica
. His first copy had been stolen two years before by his former apprentice, and it had taken him much cost and trouble to find another. He was running a finger down one of the beautiful but gruesome illustrations, a flayed arm.

'Studying again, I see, Guy.'

'The intelligence of this book never ceases to astonish me.' He smiled sadly. 'Coldiron saw me reading it the other day and was very interested. Favoured me with stories of how much he saw of men's insides at Flodden.'

'He would. Guy, what do you think of Josephine?'

He leaned back, considering. 'She is shy. Not happy, I think. But that is hardly surprising with Coldiron for a father. She too saw me reading Vesalius the other day. She turned away and looked quite sick.'

'I don't blame her. She doesn't have a young man, does she?'

'No. A pity, for she is good-natured and could be pretty enough if she cared anything for her appearance.'

'Coldiron is always criticizing her. That does little for her confidence.'

'I was in the hall a few days ago and heard him shouting at her in the kitchen. Calling her a silly, empty-headed wench for dropping something. She burst into tears. I was surprised to hear Coldiron speak to her in comforting tones then. He said, "You're safe with me." Calling her his JoJo like he does.'

'Safe from what?' I shook my head. 'I plan to dismiss him, but I wonder if there is any way of keeping her.'

'I fear she relies on him entirely.'

I sighed. 'Well, I must be gone. To try and save Barak from the soldier's life Coldiron brags about so.'

A
FTER THE STORM
it was a cool, clear day with blue skies. As I walked along I thought about what I had discovered regarding Ellen. Like a good lawyer, I considered questions of organization, power. Some arrangement had been made with whoever was Bedlam warden in 1526, and kept going since. But by whom? Somehow, I did not know how, I had to
rescue
her.

I walked down Cheapside again. It was another busy morning, more angry arguments going on about the new coins. I heard a couple of traders say the hailstorm had flattened many of the crops round London so there would be a dearth of grain again this year.

I turned up to the Guildhall, and mounted the steps into the wide, echoing entrance hall. Master Carver was waiting for me, resplendent in his red alderman's robes. Beside him, to my surprise, stood the bearded officer from Lincoln's Inn Fields in his white and red uniform and with a sword at his belt. He looked at me grimly.

'Good morning, Serjeant Shardlake,' Carver said heartily. 'I am sorry to hear of your clerk's problem.' He turned to the soldier. 'Master Goodryke wished to be here, as the matter concerns him.' The officer's heavy brows drew together in a frown.

'Your man was impertinent, sir,' he said. 'His behaviour was a defiance of the King's authority. He does not possess a bow and did not even pretend to have been practising.'

'That seems to be true of many,' I answered mildly.

'It is no excuse. I'm told by the constable this Barak is of Jewish stock; perhaps that's why he shows no loyalty to England when we're about to be invaded.'