Heartstone (57 page)

‘My client is not here,' I said.

‘Come, man, you can agree informally. She will do what you advise. She and the Queen,' he added bitterly.

‘I will consider, once I have viewed Hugh's lands with Priddis.' I looked up, to see Hobbey staring at me intently. ‘Come. We should join the rest.'

WE GATHERED round the tree trunk, and Hobbey introduced Dyrick and me briefly to his new guests as his lawyers. I glanced at Avery. The young man was dressed in leaf-coloured green, a silver hunting horn slung from a baldric round his neck. He had a new air of authority about him as he pointed at the map.

‘This is how we plan to conduct the hunt.' The map showed the rectangular hunting park, pathways through the trees sketched in. Avery took a piece of charcoal and drew a cross near the outer edge. ‘We are here,' he said. ‘We will all ride along this path until we reach this track, which turns off. When we are riding, gentlemen, it is important to be as quiet as possible so as not to startle the deer, which are here.' He drew a circle at a point some way up the track. ‘My men have been tracking them constantly; this is where they lay down to rest last night.'

‘And then we will have them,' Hobbey said with quiet satisfaction.

Avery looked at him seriously. ‘Not quite, sir. That is when the real hunt begins. Then, and only then, may you forget about silence. The dogs will be loosed, and all the riders must concentrate on separating the stag from the does and fauns, which are only a secondary quarry.'

‘The rascal, as they are called.' Corembeck smiled knowledgeably. ‘It is all right, sir, I have been hunting many a time.'

‘But if you will excuse me, sir,' Avery said, ‘not everyone present has.' He looked around the company, his expression serious. ‘This stag is large, perhaps seven years old, with ten tines on his antlers. It is important to guide him onto the path we wish him to take, but not to get too close lest he turn at bay. As for the rascal, set the dogs on them, with six of the Hoyland villagers to ride after them. The rest of you villagers should wait by the hurdles set across gaps in the trees on the main path, and shout to scare the stag should he try to break through. There are only eight does and some fauns among the rascal, the dogs should bring some down and you men can finish them off with swords or bows.' Avery studied the villagers. ‘Master Clements, you are in charge of the dogs.'

The young cottager he had addressed smiled broadly. ‘I am ready, sir.'

‘The rest of you, is there anything you do not understand?'

‘If we kill a doe or faun, do we get a choice of the best meat?' a villager asked.

‘You have been told so,' Hobbey answered sharply.

‘We'll take a haunch back for Master Ettis,' another said, and they laughed. Even among the men Hobbey had recruited, it seemed, there was a rebellious mood. Abigail, sitting on her cushions, turned and glared at the villager who had spoken. ‘Nicholas,' she called, ‘see that man gets no meat for his rudeness.'

‘Gentlemen!' Avery slapped a gloved hand on the map. ‘Please, your attention! We will be dealing with a strong and fierce beast!'

‘My apologies,' Hobbey said. He glared at Abigail. ‘My wife will ruin all with her tongue.'

There was a gasp of indrawn breath among the women at Hobbey's public insult to his wife. Abigail flushed and turned away. A muscle twitched in Hobbey's cheek. Then he looked back to Avery. ‘Continue,' he snapped.

The huntsman took a deep breath. ‘Once the stag is roused out, the hunt proper will begin. We chase him back to the main path, then on to where the archers lie in wait. You men at the hurdles must do your job well, not be frightened if the stag rushes towards you. Away from the path, in the wood, a stag is far fleeter than a horse.'

‘That is right,' Corembeck agreed portentously.

Next Avery drew five crosses at points well up the path. ‘The archers will be waiting here - Master Hugh, Master David, Fulstowe and our two young guests. You set off ahead of the rest. To one of you will go the honour of loosing the fatal shot, bringing down the stag.' He looked at the archers. ‘Remember, find good cover and a clear line of shot. And keep still.' He surveyed the company. ‘As the stag is driven to the archers I will sound my horn - like this - to warn them to be ready. If I need to summon the archers for any reason I will blow my horn thus.' He sounded a different note. ‘Now, is all clear?'

There was a chorus of assent. Avery nodded. ‘Very well, sirs, to your mounts. Handlers, keep careful hold of the dogs!'

WE WATCHED AS David and Hugh, Fulstowe and the two other boys rode into the wood in single file. A few minutes later Avery gave a signal and the rest of us followed. The only sound was the occasional jingle of harness, quickly silenced. The dogs, though straining at their leashes, knew to be silent. I was between Barak and Dyrick, just behind Hobbey, who rode with Corembeck. At the head Avery set a slow, steady pace. I sensed Oddleg was uneasy at this strange, silent progress and patted him gently.

After half an hour Avery raised a hand and pointed down a narrow side track. It was hard to make no noise as the horses rode along it, brushing against the branches which grew to the edges. And then, as suddenly as when Barak and I had stumbled upon the doe, we were facing a clearing full of deer. It was as Avery had said, several does and fauns, and a large stag too, all feeding peacefully. The animals turned, tensing instantly. The stag raised its head.

And then it began, the rush of quickening blood and the pell-mell chase we had been waiting for. In an instant the does and fauns had turned and fled. The hunting dogs, loosed, sped past us. Six riders rode after them, crashing through the wood.

The rest of us faced the big stag. On my one previous hunt, long ago, I had not seen the stag until it was dead. This one was bigger, the great antlers with their sharp points waving menacingly. It lowered its head at Corembeck, who was nearest. ‘To the side, sir,' Avery said quietly but clearly. Corembeck guided his horse slowly to the left, smiling with tense excitement. In a second the stag had shot through the resulting gap, back down the path, the massive muscles of its hind legs flexing as it ran. Avery blew his horn and we all followed him, urging our horses on. Barak grinned, his face alight. ‘Jesu, this is something!' he called out breathlessly.

We chased the stag down the track. A group of men stood on the road, calling ‘Hey! Hey!' and waving their arms to make it turn right, towards the archers. It shot on down the path and we careered after it. At one point where the trees thinned the stag turned aside, but a big wooden hurdle had been erected across the gap. It turned back to the path and fled on, precious moments lost. As it turned I glimpsed the whites of its eyes, full of terror.

The stag picked up speed, outrunning the horses. I had to focus every sense on riding, watching for overhanging branches. Barak might have been enjoying this but I was not; I feared the dangers of riding so fast in a forest; dreaded the crack of a protruding branch against head or knee.

Then the great beast turned its head towards another gap in the trees, and plunged sideways. There was another hurdle there but it was low. The stag crouched; it was going to try and jump, but villagers had appeared beside the hurdle, waving and shouting. But the stag did not run on; it turned and stood facing us. The riders skidded to a halt. I was still at the front, next to Hobbey now. The stag made a sound, more like a bellow than a grunt, lowered its head and waved its great antlers from side to side. Avery blew his horn, the note that would summon the archers. Then the stag lowered its head and charged.

It ran straight at Hobbey's mount, catching his horse on the neck. The horse screamed and reared; Hobbey gave a loud cry and toppled backwards, onto me. Oddleg plunged and I felt myself falling, Hobbey on top of me. We landed in a thick bank of stinging nettles, their softness saving us from serious injury, Hobbey's weight driving the breath from my body. I pushed him off, before he suffocated me, sharp nettle stings biting at my hands and neck. Then I heard a loud ‘thwack', a soft grunt from the stag and a crash.

I drew deep whooping breaths as Barak ran across and helped me into a sitting position. Avery was helping Hobbey to his feet. Gasping, I looked round. A villager was holding Oddleg, who did not seem injured, though Hobbey's horse lay kicking in the undergrowth. The men from the village were running up to us. In the centre of the path lay the stag, surrounded by the hunters, an arrow protruding from its chest. As I watched, it took a long, shuddering breath, twitched and lay still. Hugh came up and stood over it, bow in hand, his face a sheen of sweat. Young Master Stannard ran up and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Well done, Master Curteys. What a shot!'

A slow smile of satisfaction spread across Hugh's features. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘Yes, I did it again.'

Hobbey was breathing fast, clearly shaken. Hugh glanced at him, then looked at me. ‘You are hurt, sir,' he said. ‘There is blood on your wrist.'

I touched my arm, there was what felt like a deep cut below the elbow. I winced. ‘I must have landed on a piece of wood.'

‘Let me look,' Barak said.

I removed my doublet and rolled up my sleeve. There was a nasty cut on my forearm, blood leaking fast. ‘You need that bound up,' Barak said. ‘Here, let me cut off that sleeve, the shirt's ripped anyway.'

As Barak tended my wound, Hobbey stepped over to his ward. ‘Hugh,' he said, his voice shaking, ‘thank you, you saved the hunt. Maybe even my life.'

Hugh gave him a wintry smile. ‘I told you, sir, I would make a good shot on the field of battle.'

A horn sounded from somewhere deep in the wood. ‘They've killed the does,' Sir Luke said. ‘Here, you men, move the stag to the side of the path so the cart can come up. And help Master Hobbey's horse.' The fallen animal was brought to its feet, fortunately uninjured though trembling violently. Four villagers grabbed the stag by the antlers, and dragged it, trailing blood, to the verge.

THE HUNT DISPERSED, Hobbey ordering everyone to walk or ride back to the clearing. A servant led his limping horse away. Hugh left with the two young gentlemen, enjoying their congratulations. Avery went up the path to fetch Fulstowe and David, who must have been too far up the path to have heard the horn. Hobbey stood, dusty, his clothes torn, rubbing his pale hands. ‘I am sorry I fell on you, sir,' he said. ‘Will your arm be all right?'

‘I think so. Come, Barak, let us go back to the house.' I stood, but at once the wood spun round me. Barak helped me sit down again.

‘You've had a shock. Rest here awhile.'

Dyrick laughed. ‘Be careful, Nicholas, or he'll find some way of suing you for trespass against the person.'