âWhat evidence did you have for that?'
âRemember, Brother Shardlake,' Dyrick said, âMaster Hobbey's answer could be read out in court, in front of Michael Calfhill's mother.'
âI know.' I looked fixedly at Hobbey; Dyrick would not blackmail me thus.
âIt was a matter of looks and gestures. Once I saw him touch Hugh's bottom.'
âI see. Speaking of impropriety, Michael told his mother David said something improper to Emma, and Hugh fought him over it.'
âI believe Hugh once objected to something David said. My son - well, he has no good control of his tongue. They had a boyish tussle. But David and Hugh are fast friends now.'
âDid you hope David might marry Emma? If that happened Emma would have brought her portion of her lands to her husband.'
âOf course we considered that, but it would have been up to the children.'
âDid you find another tutor for Hugh and David?'
âWe had a succession of tutors till last year.' He smiled wryly. âThey all had to be good archers. Hugh had begun his craze for the bow by then, and David followed.'
âA succession? How many?'
âFour, I think.'
âIn five years? That seems a great many.'
âThey were not always satisfactory. And many tutors see teaching as a stopgap, rather than a career.'
âMichael Calfhill did not.'
âHe might have had his reasons for that,' Dyrick said, real venom in his tone.
âAnd David is not an easy boy to teach.' Again that sadness in Hobbey's face. âThe last man was good, but he left us to travel, visit the continent. That was before this war began.'
âMight I have their names?' I asked.
âIf you wish. Though I do not know where they would be now.'
âComing to the present, it is surely past time for the boys to consider university or a profession.'
âI want David here, to learn about the estate. As for Hugh, he has the wit for a scholar and loves book learning. But he has a boyish fancy to go to the war. So I am keeping him here till it ends. Does that not sound a reasonable course, Master Shardlake?'
âI think you will agree it is in Hugh's interest,' Dyrick interjected.
âPerhaps.' I paused. âMaster Hobbey, you gave an account at dinner last night of Michael Calfhill's reappearance last Easter. Could you tell me again what happened, for the record this time?'
Hobbey repeated the story of Michael's appearance in the old churchyard, his telling Hugh that he loved him more than anyone. I had hoped Hobbey might slip, say something inconsistent with what he had said last night. But either he spoke true, or he had been well rehearsed by Dyrick.
âHow far must we press this unsavoury episode?' Dyrick asked when Hobbey had finished.
âOne more thing, Master Hobbey. You have been selling off wood from the land which is part of Hugh's patrimony.'
Hobbey spread his hands. âI would be a poor custodian of his interests if I did otherwise. Between the need for timber for ships and the demand for charcoal for the Sussex ironworks the price has never been so high.' Mention of the Sussex ironworks again, I thought. âI am having part of my own woods felled. There is little other profit to be made here. The rents from Hoyland village and a few cottagers in the woods bring in less than seventy pounds a year, which becomes worth less and less with this great rise in prices. You have seen my accounts.'
âIndeed. And I would like to take a ride through the woodland Hugh owns, before we meet Sir Quintin Priddis on Friday.'
âPlease do. But it is a large area, several miles deep in parts. Men are at work on the outer fringes now, felling trees, but further in it is old, wild growth, not easily penetrated.'
Dyrick laughed. âDo not get lost in there, Brother, or Mistress Calfhill will have to find another lawyer.'
âI won't.' I made my voice as smooth as Hobbey's. âAnd thank you, sir. I think that will be all, for now.'
Dyrick looked up sharply. âFor now? You are not allowed innumerable depositions.'
âI will only ask if something new arises.' I smiled. âAnd now, if I may, I will see the steward, Fulstowe.'
âCertainly. He is with my hounds, supervising their feeding.' Hobbey glanced at the hourglass, where the sand was still falling.
âI will go and find him,' I said. âI would like a little breath of air. Barak, come with me. And I think I will ride out and see Hugh's woodlands tomorrow.'
WE WALKED OUT into the fresh morning. A peacock strutted on the lawn, bright feathers glistening in the sun. As we approached, it uttered its mournful cry and stalked away. We followed the sound of barking to the outhouses, and I noted again the many hiding places behind the trees dotting the lawn.
âWhat did you think of Hobbey?' I asked.
âNo fool. But I don't trust him: his story was too smoothly told.'
âI agree. But Hugh Curteys is clearly not mistreated.'
âThey intended to marry David to Emma.'
âThat is the way of wardship. But there is something hidden here, I am sure of it.' I frowned. âI was thinking just now of the corner boys. If there is some roguery going on over selling the woodland, and either Sir Quintin Priddis or his son were in London, they would probably be in and out of the Court of Wards all the time. They might have learned of my involvement in this case.'
âAnd feared corrupt dealing being exposed, and so tried to frighten you off?'
âThey would not then know I had the Queen behind me. Though Hobbey will have told them since, in his letter.' I smiled. âI look forward to this meeting on Friday.' I took a deep breath, and added, âBefore that, given time, I think I may ride out to Rolfswood, see what I might find. Alone.'
âYou should not go at all. And certainly not alone.'
âIt will do me good to have a night away from here.' I was not going to tell Barak what I had heard of two deaths at the foundry. âAnd I want you here, finding out all you can. That servant Ursula, she at least has no love for the Hobbeys. You could try and talk to her.'
He put his head to one side. âAre you hiding something about Ellen?' he asked shrewdly.
âGod's death, Jack,' I snapped, reddening. âLeave it alone. It is for me to judge what to do. Now, later this morning I am going to reply to Warner. Do you want to write a letter to Tamasin for the post rider to collect?'
âOf course.'
âThen let us get our work done.' I strode on towards the continuing sound of barking, which came from a building near the stables. I looked through an open door into a kennels where a dozen black-and-white hunting dogs stood on thick straw, tethered to the walls by long iron chains. Also chained up were two of the largest greyhounds I had ever seen, their lean bodies a mass of muscle. A man was feeding the hunting dogs chunks of meat from a pail, watched keenly by Fulstowe. The steward looked round, surprised to see me, then bowed.
I nodded at the greyhounds. âThose are big dogs.'
âThey are Hugh and David's greyhounds, Ajax and Apollo. The boys will be here to collect them shortly. Master Avery, they are going hunting. Do not feed them.' He turned back to me. âOn the hunt the other dogs will be sent after the does.
âThis hunt of your master's, I gather it is the first here?'
Fulstowe nodded. âIt is. We have been keeping the hounds hungry, to get them keen for the scent of meat. That is Master Avery, whom we have hired as our Master of Hunt.'
The young man stood up and bowed. He was as thin and sinewy as the dogs, with a sharp intelligent face, his leather apron spattered with blood from the meat.
âMaster Shardlake is here on legal business,' Fulstowe said.
âI heard.' Avery looked at me keenly.
âAvery is working with our forester,' Fulstowe said. He seemed to have decided to play the bluff steward. âThey have found a large stag in our park.'
âWe have, sir,' Avery agreed. âA fine beast. I look forward to next Monday.'
âThe boys must be anticipating the hunt too,' I said.
âThey are,' Avery agreed. âThey have come tracking deer with me. But as I said, Master Fulstowe, I would rather Master David did not come again. He makes too much noise. Though Master Hugh is a born tracker, silent as a fox. He has the makings of a fine huntsman.' He smiled. âYou should ask him to show you his heartstone.'
I stared. âHis what?'
âThe piece of bone a deer has next to its heart,' Fulstowe explained. âMaster Hugh went on a neighbour's hunt last year and brought a hart down with his arrow.'
Avery smiled. âDo you not know the old custom, sir, for the heartstone to be given to the lord who brings down the deer?'
âI fear I am a townsman.'
âIt is said to have great healing properties.'
âHugh wears it in a little bag round his neck,' Fulstowe said. His nose crinkled a little. I thought of Emma's cross round my own neck. I took a deep breath.
âMaster Fulstowe,' I said. âWe would like to take your deposition now.'
âVery well.' He set his lips tight.
THE STEWARD said not a word more as we walked back to the house. As we neared the stables, David and Hugh passed us on horseback. Each wore a leather glove on which a hooded goshawk stood balanced. The sun emphasized the scars on Hugh's face, and I looked away. The boys looked curiously at my serjeant's robes, and David gave a little scoffing laugh. Hugh doffed his cap as they passed, riding away to the gate.
We entered Hobbey's study. Fulstowe's face showed relief as he saw Dyrick. Hobbey had left. âGood morning, master steward,' Dyrick said cheerfully. âDo not worry, I will make sure Brother Shardlake keeps to the point.' I saw the hourglass had been turned over again; the sand was just beginning to fall. Fulstowe sat, looking at me as steadily as his master had.
âWell, Fulstowe,' I began in a light tone, âtell me how you became Master Hobbey's steward.'
âI was steward at his house in London. Before Master Hobbey came here.'
âTo be a country gentleman.'
âThere is no more honourable calling in England.' A touch of truculence entered Fulstowe's voice.
âYou will remember when Hugh and his sister came to your master's London house six years ago. And Master Calfhill.'
âI do. My master and mistress treated those poor children as their own.'
Clearly there was no question of shaking Fulstowe's loyalty. I could not catch him out either. I questioned him for twenty minutes, and his recollections echoed those of his master. He repeated that Hugh and Emma were devoted to each other, excluding all others. He recollected little of Michael Calfhill, saying Michael held himself aloof from the rest of the household. Only once did his coolness slip, and that was when I asked about the smallpox. âIt took all three children at once,' he said. âThey must have been out together and caught it from the same person, there was much of it in London that year.' His voice wavered momentarily. âI remember Mistress Abigail saying all the children had headaches, and felt so tired they could scarcely move. I knew what that meant.'
âDid you help care for them?'
âI carried water and clean bedclothes upstairs. The other servants were too frightened to help. The physician said they should be wrapped in red cloth to bring out the bad humours. I remember I had a job finding red cloth in London then, everyone was after it.'
âI understand Mistress Hobbey insisted on caring for David herself?'
âYes, though she visited Hugh and Emma constantly. My mistress has never been the same since Emma died.'