Heartstone (56 page)

I WENT TO my room and sat down heavily on the bed. Should I report David's condition to the Court of Wards? I had no wish to. But just how far had living with this tense family and its secret affected Hugh? After a few moments' more thought, I walked up the corridor and knocked at Hugh's door. After a moment he opened it. ‘Master Shardlake,' he said quietly. ‘Come in.'

I followed him into the tidy room. It was dim, the shutters half-drawn against the bright afternoon light. A book lay open on his desk, More's
Utopia
.

‘You have been giving More another try?' I asked.

‘Yes, last night. I fear, Master Shardlake, I still find him a dreamer. And Sam Feaveryear said he burned many good men as heretics while he was Lord Chancellor.'

‘Yes, he did.'

‘Then who was he to condemn the violence of war?'

I thought, this boy could make a scholar. I said, ‘Feaveryear has gone.'

He crossed to the window and looked through the shutters. ‘Yes, I got used to seeing his strange little face about. I am told Master Dyrick has sent him back to London.'

‘An urgent case, apparently. He left this morning.' I hesitated. ‘I saw him running across the lawn yesterday evening.'

Hugh turned, his face expressionless. ‘Master Dyrick had shouted for him.'

‘I did not hear him call. I thought I heard someone shout, “No!”'

‘You must have misheard, sir. Master Dyrick came out and called. His master's call would always bring poor Sam running.' He looked at me, his blue-green eyes keen. ‘Was that why you came to see me?'

‘No.'

‘I thought not.'

‘David's secret is out.'

‘I wish it were not.'

‘Master Hobbey told me you and your sister learned of his condition shortly after you came to the Hobbeys.'

Hugh sat down on his bed, looking up at me. ‘One day not long after we joined the Hobbeys, David and Emma and I were at class with Master Calfhill. He was angry with David, he had not done his set work and Master Calfhill threatened to tell his father. David told him to go and do something abominable with a sheep. Then suddenly David fell off his chair and began shaking and foaming, just like you saw today. Emma and I were frightened, we thought his bad words had called God's justice down on him. We still believed such things in those days,' he added with a bitter little smile. ‘But Master Calfhill recognized the symptoms. He settled David and held his tongue down with a ruler, as Fulstowe did today with his scabbard.'

‘And David's parents made you and your sister keep the secret?'

‘They asked us to.' His voice was toneless.

I said, ‘You do not love them as a family, do you? Any of them?'

Hugh's long, scarred face twitched and for a moment he looked like a child again. Then his composure returned and he stared back at me. ‘Despite everything,' he said quietly, ‘they spent the next months pressing my sister to marry David. Despite his falling sickness, despite his braggart, bullying ways.'

‘Emma disliked David?'

‘She
loathed
him. Already when she was thirteen he was pawing at her skirts.' Hugh's face darkened. ‘I hit him for it. Master Calfhill took our part. He told us Emma could refuse to marry David. She could go to Wards and tell them David had a taint of body.'

‘That is quite right. It would be what is called a Ravishment of Wards,' I said quietly. ‘But Master Hobbey still wanted to tie her share of your father's lands to his family.'

‘Emma and I made plans.' Anger entered Hugh's voice. ‘If Master and Mistress Hobbey persisted with their pressure we would threaten to take them to their precious Court of Wards. Master Calfhill had researched the law, he told us that although boys cannot come out of wardship till they are twenty-one, girls can inherit their lands at fourteen.'

‘Yes, unless they refuse a suitable marriage.'

‘A
suitable
marriage. We planned to wait a few more months till Emma was fourteen, then we would take her lands, sell them, and run away together.'

‘Did you tell Master Calfhill your plans?'

‘No. Perhaps we should have trusted him,' Hugh added sadly.

‘It would have been complicated, you would have needed a lawyer.'

Hugh gave a high-pitched, bitter laugh. It startled me. ‘It was never put to the test, was it? My sister died, and then it did not matter any more.' His face twitched again; for a second I thought he would cry but his expression settled into blankness again. I thought, if only Michael Calfhill and Reverend Broughton had known of David's condition before the wardship was granted. Hugh sighed, then scratched his chest in sudden irritation.

‘I hope you do not have fleas,' I said. ‘I brought some back from Portsmouth, but thought I had got rid of them.'

‘No, I have more scars there, they itch.' He scratched again, but carefully.

‘Do you wear Emma's cross there?' I asked gently.

He looked up. ‘No, Master Shardlake, I keep it in my drawer. I find it hard to look at.'

‘That is sad.'

‘Perhaps you should not have brought it. No, I still wear my heartstone. You are right, I do not love the Hobbeys. You are good at getting people to talk, sir. But if I cannot go to war, then I will stay here. That is my wish, and you may say so to the Court of Wards.'

‘Why, Hugh?'

He spread his long-fingered hands, gave another bitter laugh. ‘Where else would I go? I am used to the life here, and I do not want a court battle with Master Hobbey. In three years I can sue out my livery and leave.'

‘And then what will you do? Go for a soldier?'

‘Perhaps.'

‘If I can help you then, Hugh, you will find me at Lincoln's Inn.'

He smiled sadly again. ‘Thank you, Master Shardlake.' He looked at me intently. ‘In three years - yes, then I may need a friend in the world beyond this place.'

SOME BIRDS flapping their wings in one of the trees surrounding the glade brought me back to myself. I stood and walked back through the wood to a big clearing; there were about thirty people there. Hobbey and the huntsman Avery, together with Fulstowe and Sir Luke Corembeck and two other well-dressed middle-aged men, were bent over a plan of the park set on a sawn-off tree trunk. Large white cloths had been set on the grass, strewn with cushions. There Lady Corembeck sat with two middle-aged ladies. All were dressed for company, the women's dresses silk and satin, fashionable hoods covering their hair, faces and necks powdered with whitelead. Servants brought glasses of wine and plates of bread and cheese. A little way off some twenty men, those from Hoyland village recruited to help with the hunt, stood with half a dozen horses and the hunting dogs, held on leashes. Barak was talking to them. I was pleased to see Oddleg among the horses.

Hugh and David, with two other boys who looked to be sons of the guests, stood talking with Dyrick. The boys were dressed in different shades of green, as were the villagers. The men with Hobbey wore pinked or slashed doublets, but in pale shades, the usual bright colours of fine clothes absent. The four boys held their unstrung bows and had arrowbags at their belts. I saw swan and peacock feathers on the arrows' fletches, marks of status, and all wore gloves and wrist guards of horn or embossed leather. David showed no sign of his attack the previous day, but cast worried glances at the two young guests, no doubt wondering if they knew.

The hunt breakfast was the prelude; the ladies would stay here while the menfolk hunted the stag, hopefully returning with it in the large wheeled cart that stood nearby, next to the cloth set with knives and clamps where the animal would be dissected before the company. Sometimes ladies hunted, but not today. I remembered Princess Elizabeth and the Queen telling me she already accompanied the hunt.

The women were conversing with Abigail, lightly but, I saw, uneasily too. They would probably know what had happened outside the church yesterday. Abigail was trying to make conversation, but her voice was high with tension and she fiddled constantly with her napkin. ‘This will be my son's first hunt,' she said. ‘It is time such a fine strong boy enjoyed a hunt.' She looked at the other women defiantly, gave a frightened whinny of a laugh. One of the hunting dogs barked sharply and she flinched. I remembered the whispered conversation I had overheard, Abigail saying it was not safe to have the hunt.

Barak left the servants and came over to me. ‘Sure you want to do this?' he asked.

‘I have been on a hunt before,' I replied sharply.

‘It's more than I have. But they say you should experience everything once, save incest and the plague.'

‘Master Shardlake!' Hugh was walking over to us. He seemed relaxed now. ‘Are you ready?'

‘Yes,' I replied. ‘What is to happen?'

‘Myself and the other three archers -' he nodded at David and the other boys - ‘will lie in wait at different points along the route. Fulstowe, too.'

‘A great honour for a steward.'

‘Master Hobbey believes he deserves it,' he answered blandly.

‘I thought usually the young men rode with the chase rather than waiting in ambush in the woods.'

‘Ah, but we want to test our archery skills. Master Stannard there is second in command of his local militia, ten miles off. Here, lads!' He waved an arm, and David came across with the two others and Dyrick. Dyrick looked ill at ease. I was introduced to Master Stannard and Master Belton, the sons of the two men looking over the plan with Hobbey. Both were only in their late teens; but it was social rank that counted in the military. I thought of Sir Franklin Giffard, past command yet still in charge of Leacon's company.

‘We saw some militiamen training on the way here last week,' I said.

‘I'm getting them well trained up in my district,' Master Stannard said proudly. He was a tall well-built lad, with a round face and swaggering manner. Master Belton was smaller, still with spots peppering his face. ‘Equipment is the problem,' Stannard went on. ‘By law they should all have their own weapons but many do not even have bows. But they will be ready to march when the beacons are lit.'

‘No greater army ever seen in England,' David said. I looked at him. There seemed a hectic quality to his excited tones. He met my eye and looked away.

Master Stannard nodded. ‘If we have to, we will crush them by sheer numbers. And I shall lead my militia. Today will be good practice, perhaps I shall take down the stag and gain the heartstone.'

Young Stannard turned to Hugh. ‘You gained the heartstone at my father's hunt two years ago, did you not? At only sixteen.'

‘I did,' Hugh answered with pride.

‘It can heal many ills, I am told.'

‘Normally I wear it round my neck. But today I brought it to show you.' Hugh took off his gloves and reached into the pouch at his belt. He took out a tiny leather bag with a cord attached, opened it and tipped a small, round whitish object into his palm. Barak wrinkled his nose with distaste, but the boys studied it with interest.

‘Even should I gain another, I will always keep this one,' Hugh said with quiet pride. The boys looked impressed.

Dyrick stepped up to me. ‘I see the horse you have been riding has been brought out for you. He looks a steady beast.'

‘He is.' I looked at Dyrick in surprise. For once he was making amiable conversation.

Hobbey called out, ‘All of you that are going on the hunt, over here please!' He waved an arm, and the male guests and the Hoyland men walked across to him. Dyrick put a detaining hand on my arm.

‘Brother Shardlake,' he said quietly, ‘Feodary Priddis and his son will be here this afternoon. You will have a chance to take young Priddis to view the woods. But afterwards I would ask you to agree that we leave tomorrow. The case I sent Feaveryear away to deal with is difficult. I should be there.'

‘A Court of Wards matter?'

‘An injunction.' He took a deep breath. ‘And if we leave tomorrow, Master Hobbey has agreed each side in this matter will pay their own costs, out of court. It is a very pretty bargain for your client, you must agree. But otherwise,' he resumed his usual aggressive manner, ‘I promise we shall press for full costs in court.'

‘Hobbey has agreed this?' I asked, astonished. It was a very good offer, not one a lawyer would normally make when his opponent's case had effectively fallen apart.

‘He has. He wants you gone. Christ's blood, man, has he not enough trouble?' Dyrick spoke with unusual passion.

I considered. There was only one reason for Hobbey to make this offer; he wanted to make sure David's condition was not made public in London.