Heartstone (32 page)

Hobbey nodded. 'So long as Master Dyrick is present at all the interviews.'

'And Master David.'

'No,' Dyrick said firmly. 'He is a minor. Hugh is too, but the court will wish to see his evidence despite his youth. David is a different matter.'

I went on, 'And Fulstowe, and such servants as have dealings with the boys.'

'God's death,' Dyrick said. 'We will be here till the leaves fall.'

'Fulstowe certainly.' Hobbey leaned forward, speaking in the same quiet, even tone but with a steely note now. 'But my servants know the boys only as masters.'

'The Court of Wards would not permit random interrogation of servants,' Dyrick said firmly, 'unless they had particular knowledge. It undermines the relationship between master and servant.'

Dyrick was right; I had been testing the water. I could not force the servants, or David, to give depositions unless I believed they had particular evidence. I would, though, have liked to talk to David; there was an uneasiness under his spoiled foolishness. And Abigail had spoken of the servants murdering them in their beds, while Dyrick had told me Hobbey wished to enclose the village lands. If the servants were village folk, that might explain Abigail's fear. It might also mean some would be willing to talk to me.

'We will leave David and the servants,' I said, 'for now.'

'For good and all,' Dyrick said emphatically.

'Then there is the feodary,' I added. 'Sir Quintin Priddis.'

Hobbey nodded. 'I have written to him and had a letter back today. At the moment he is in Christchurch, but he is coming to Portsmouth on Friday. I would suggest we go to see him there.'

'I would prefer to meet him here,' I answered. 'Over the next couple of days I would like to see Hugh's woodlands, then I hoped Sir Quintin and I could ride Hugh's lands together. So that I might ask him about the stretches of woodland which have been cut, how much each part fetched.'

'I doubt he would be able to do that,' Hobbey replied. 'Sir Quintin Priddis is an old man, infirm of body though not of mind. And those woods are hard going. If lands have to be ridden his son, Edward, usually does that. And I do not know whether Edward Priddis is with him.'

Dyrick nodded agreement. 'I think the court would expect you to accommodate Master Hobbey where possible, Brother Shardlake. Can you not see Sir Quintin in Portsmouth? If his son is with him, perhaps he could ride back with us if you insist on riding Hugh's lands.'

I considered. The King's party would not be arriving for ten days. Portsmouth was still safe for me. 'Very well. Provided, Master Hobbey, that you write to him making clear I may request him or his son to come here afterwards.'

Hobbey looked at me seriously. 'I wish only to cooperate, Master Shardlake, to meet all reasonable demands.' He emphasized the 'reasonable'. 'I will have my books of account sent up to your room,' he added.

'Thank you.' I rose. 'Then until tomorrow, sir. Fulstowe, I would like to take this letter to Barak. His wife has a baby due soon. Perhaps you would tell me where his quarters are.'

The steward stepped forward. 'Certainly. He is in one of the old outhouses. I will take you there.'

'I will not trouble you. I can walk round.'

'It is dark out there now,' Hobbey said.

'No matter. I was brought up in the country.'

W
E LEFT THE
great hall. Master Hobbey bade us goodnight and climbed the stairs; Dyrick gave me a curt nod and said, 'Till tomorrow.' I followed Fulstowe outside. He stood on the steps, looking up at the stars.

'A fine night, sir,' he observed, smiling deferentially. I thought, this is a proper steward, loyal to his master, not an oaf like Coldiron. But I did not trust him an inch.

'Indeed. Let us hope this better weather continues.'

Fulstowe indicated a row of substantial buildings against the side wall of the enclosure. 'Your servant is in the fourth building down. You are sure you would not like me to accompany you?'

'No, thank you. I will see you tomorrow.'

He bowed. 'Then goodnight, sir. I will leave the door open a little for you.'

I walked down the steps. I took a deep breath, relieved to be away from them all. I breathed in the country scents, grass and the rich fragrance of flowers from Abigail's garden. I had still not got used to the silence after those days on the road.

There was a footstep behind me, I was sure. I looked round. The only light came from the moon, and a few candles shimmering at the priory windows. I could see nobody, but the lawn was dotted with trees behind which someone could hide. Fear came on me again, the fear that had been with me since the corner boys' attack, and I realized how much I missed the security of riding with Leacon's company. I hurried on, turning back every few seconds to signal to anyone looking that they had been heard. I counted along the squat, functional outhouses, knocking heavily on the door of the fourth. It opened and Barak looked out, dressed in his shirt.

'It's you. God's teeth, I thought someone was trying to batter the door down. Come in.'

I followed him inside. A mean little room with a truckle bed in the corner, lit by a cheap, smoky, tallow candle. I took out the letter.

'News from Tamasin?' he said, his face suddenly bright.

'I have had a letter from Guy, he says she continues well.'

Barak tore open the letter and read it. He smiled broadly. 'Yes, all is well. Tammy says she is doing everything Jane Marris tells her. I'm not sure I believe her, though.'

'Is not the letter written in Guy's hand?' I asked curioulsy.

Barak flushed, then looked at me. 'Tamasin can barely write, did you not know?'

'No.' I was embarrassed. 'I am sorry, I thought--'

'Tamasin is a woman of low birth, she was taught little more than to sign her own name.' His tone was sharp, I had annoyed him. 'Did Guy tell you how Ellen was?'

'Guy had not visited her when he wrote.' He grunted. 'No Feaveryear for company?' I asked in an effort to lighten the atmosphere.

'No, thank heaven. He's next door. I heard him at his prayers through the wall a while ago.'

'Well, we cannot grudge him his belief.'

'I grudge his deference to that Dyrick. He thinks the sun shines out of his arse.'

'Yes. 'Tis well said that a faithful servant shall become a perpetual ass.'

Barak looked at me closely. 'Are you all right? You seemed scared when you came in.'

'I thought I heard someone following me. I was probably mistaken.' I laughed uneasily. 'No corner boys here.'

'We still don't know who set them on you. Do you think it could have been Hobbey?'

'I don't know. He is a hard man for all his civility.' I shook my head. 'But there was no time for him to instruct anyone.'

'What of Hugh Curteys? How does he seem?'

'Well. I have just dined with the family. I think he would like to go and join the army.'

Barak raised his eyebrows. 'Rather him than me. When do you think we will get home?'

'We have to go to Portsmouth on Friday to see Priddis, the feodary. Then we shall see.'

'Friday? Shit, I thought we would be on the road home by then.'

'I know. Listen, I want you to help me take the depositions tomorrow, give me your view of these people. And try to make friends with the servants, see what they may have to tell. Quietly - you know how.'

'That might not be easy. Fulstowe told me not to go to the house unless I was asked for. Haughty fellow. I took a walk by myself in the grounds, greeted a couple of gardeners but only got a surly nod. Hampshire hogs.'

I was silent a moment. Then I said, 'That family . . .'

'What?'

'They try to hide it, but it breaks through. They are angry and frightened, I think. All of them.'

'What of?'

I took a long breath. 'Of me. But I think also of each other.'

Chapter Eighteen

O
N RETURNING TO
the house I spent two hours going over Hobbey's accounts. He had given me the books dating back to 1539, the year they had all moved to Hoyland. Everything was clearly recorded in a neat hand that I guessed was Fulstowe's. Much woodland had been cut down in the last six years, and the payments had accumulated into a considerable sum. Hugh's land was accounted for separately, and the amount of different types of wood - oak, beech and elm and the prices each had fetched - neatly entered. But I knew well enough that even accounts as clearly set out as these could be full of false entries. I recalled the old saying that there was good fishing in puddled waters. I sat awhile, thinking back to the meal, the terrible tension round the table. There was something very wrong here, I sensed, more than profiteering from a ward's lands.

At last I went to bed and slept deeply. Just before I woke I dreamed of Joan, welcoming me home on a cold dark night, saying I had been away too long. I heaved myself out of bed, then sat thinking. It struck me that if we were not travelling to Portsmouth until Friday, then instead of visiting Rolfswood on the way home, finding some excuse to send Barak on, I should have the opportunity to ride to Sussex while we were here. I estimated the journey at perhaps fifteen miles; I would have to stay overnight to rest the horse.

I heard youthful shouts outside. I opened the window and looked out. Some distance away - I guessed the regulation two hundred and twenty yards - Hugh and David stood shooting arrows at the butts. I watched Hugh loose an arrow. It sped through the air and landed smack in the centre of the target. He seemed as fast and accurate as Leacon's men.

I would have benefited from a session of the morning exercises Guy had given me for my back, but there was much to be done. So I dressed in my serjeant's robe and went downstairs. It felt uncomfortable; it was another hot, sticky morning.

The great hall was empty, but I heard Barak's voice somewhere and followed it to a large kitchen, where he and Feaveryear sat at a table eating bread and cheese, their tones more amicable than I had heard before. The old woman Ursula stood at the big range, sweat on her thin face. Abigail Hobbey's lapdog, Lamkin, stood by Feaveryear's feet, gobbling at a lump of cheese. It looked up as I entered, wagging its feathery tail as though to say, see what a lucky fellow I am.

'Tamasin has a good woman to care for her,' Barak was saying to Feaveryear, 'but I cannot help worrying. I imagine her out in her garden, weeding when she should be sitting indoors.'

'I did not know you were married. I took you for a roistering fellow.'

'That's all done now - ah, good morning,' he said as I came in. Feaveryear stood, bowing briefly.

'You've let me sleep in,' I said, joining them at table.

'They only woke me half an hour ago,' Barak answered cheerfully. 'And the old need their sleep.'

'Less of the old, churl.' Feaveryear looked shocked at our familiarity.

From the kitchen we had a better view through an open window of the boys practising. David was shooting now, leaning back then bending his strong square body forward and loosing his arrow. He too hit the target, though off-centre.

'This is a beautiful place,' Feaveryear said. 'I have never seen the country before.'

'Never left London?' I asked.

'This is my first journey. I wanted to see it. The smells are so different, so clean.'

'Ay,' Barak agreed. 'No rotten meat or sewage stink.'

'And so quiet. Hard to think that only a few miles away the army is gathering at Portsmouth.'

'Yes,' I agreed, 'it is.'

'Master Hobbey has made a marvellous house. And a good thing this estate is no longer used to support those nuns mumbling prayers to idolatrous statues,' Feaveryear added sententiously. The old woman turned and gave him a vicious look.

'Those lads know what they're doing,' Barak said, looking through the window at Hugh and David. David shot again, and I followed the arcing trajectory of the arrow to the target. 'There,' I heard him shout, 'I win! Sixpence you owe me!'

'No!' Hugh called back. 'I shot nearer the centre!'

Feaveryear was looking at the boys too, his face sad. 'Do you pull the bow at all?' I asked him.

'No, sir. God gave me but little strength. I envy those strong lads.'

'A cosy scene,' a sneering voice said. We turned to find Dyrick in the doorway, Hobbey beside him. Dyrick too had donned his lawyer's robe.

'Who has been feeding that dog?' Hobbey asked sharply.

'Me, sir,' Feaveryear answered nervously. 'He is such a merry little fellow.'

'You will be no merry fellow if my wife finds out. Only she feeds him - she thinks he has a delicate stomach. Lamkin, go find Mistress.' The dog turned and waddled obediently out of the kitchen. Hobbey turned to Ursula. 'You should not have allowed him to feed Lamkin,' he snapped.

'I am sorry sir. I could not see through the steam.'

'I think you saw well enough. Be careful, goodwife.' Hobbey turned to me, his voice smooth again. 'Well, Brother Shardlake, perhaps you could say how you wish to proceed. As you see, Hugh is available now.'

I had decided to interview the others before Hugh, to try and get some sense of this strange family. 'I thought we might take your deposition first, sir. Then Fulstowe's and your wife's.'