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  I turned to Warner's letter; it was brief, the script without his usual care and written in a hurry.

  Dear Matthew,

  The court is arrived at Portchester Castle. I enclose a letter from the Queen; we agree you should return to London as soon as possible. Please accept Brother Dyrick's offer on costs. I hope and trust the inquest has found the killer. On that subject, I heard the inquest's verdict into Master Mylling was one of accidental death.

  Here the King is much concerned by the approach of the French fleet. I may be unable to write further till this desperate crisis is resolved, one way or another.

  With greetings and salutations,

  Robert Warner

  I passed both letters over to Barak. 'I never had a letter from the Queen before.'

  'Lucky you. Well, that's the end of the Curteys case.'

  'I know. This room is sticky. Let's get out.'

  We stepped out into the windless summer evening. I looked over at the tiled roof, solid old walls and new high chimneys of Hoyland Priory.

  'This will be our last night at this place, thank God,' Barak said. He looked at me. 'D'you still think Warner could be connected with Ellen somehow?'

  'I don't know.' I took a deep breath. 'Tomorrow morning we can leave first thing. I will go to Portsmouth, and you take the road for London. With luck I will only be there a few hours, and can catch you up on the road the next day.'

  'Don't go.'

  'I must.'

  'The French could arrive.'

  'I must speak to West. It was I stirred up the hornets' nest at Rolfswood.'

  'And you're going to try and get the hornets back in?'

  'I am going to try and find out what happened at that foundry.'

  He shook his head. 'Fuck it. Listen, I'll come with you to Portsmouth tomorrow.'

  'No. Go back to London. I'll find Leacon, maybe he can help me reach West again.'

  'You shouldn't go alone.'

  I looked at him. 'Are you sure?'

  'Provided we leave as soon as you've seen West. If I let you go alone, I fear you'll stay and land in more danger.'

  I smiled. 'Then—thank you.'

  He spoke with a sudden forcefulness; 'When we get back to London, you have to change. You can't go on living like this. And nor can I.' He looked at me hard again, but there was concern as well as censure in his eyes.

  I smiled sadly. 'Leacon said something similar to me. About getting old.'

  'And obsessive. Never more so.'

  I took a deep breath. 'Then it seems that now I need you to guide me. Thank you, Jack.'

  * * *

  WE RETURNED TO the house. I thought, he is right, when we get back it is time I made a life for myself, instead of living through other people's tragedies. I realized that was what I had been doing for years: there had been so many, brought by the wild changes and conflicts the King had forced on England, perhaps it was my response to the wider madness.

  Fulstowe stood in the great hall, looking at the space where the tapestries had been. He turned to me with a hostile look, his fair beard and hair contrasting with his jet-black mourning doublet.

  'Do you know where Sir Quintin and his son are?' I asked shortly.

  'Departed.'

  'And the family?'

  The steward glared at me, any last shred of deference gone. 'I will not have you trouble them. Not after the state you reduced them to at the inquest.'

  'You should mind your manners, steward,' I said quietly.

  'I am in charge of this household under Master Hobbey. I say again, I will not have you disturb them.'

  'Where is Master Dyrick?'

  'With Master Hobbey.'

  'We leave tomorrow. Tell Master Dyrick I will need to speak with him before we go.'

  He looked relieved at that news. 'I will. There will be no dinner in the hall tonight. Food will be served to people in their rooms.' He turned on his heel and walked away.

  I went up to my room. Soon after there was a knock at my door and Dyrick entered, his face dark and angry. 'You will be pleased to know, sir,' he said, 'that Master Hobbey is prostrate. And David is much upset.'

  'Not as upset as Master Ettis, I'll wager.'

  I looked at him. I felt guilty for what I believed I had had to do at the inquest, but for Dyrick I felt only anger and contempt. I had believed earlier that, ridiculously unpleasant as he was, he genuinely thought I was treating Hobbey unjustly over Hugh; but after his role in the pursuit of Ettis I knew he was corrupt and cruel.

  He sneered. 'Ettis. Whose wife no doubt will take his place as your client.'

  I said, 'You will be pleased to hear I have authority to accept your offer to end Hugh Curteys' case on the basis of no costs.'

  'Ah yes, that royal messenger.' He smiled nastily. 'And I noticed you and Master Hugh seem no longer to be friends. And after what you made him do this afternoon I imagine he will be as glad to be rid of you as everyone else here.'

  'Oh, it is not over yet, Brother Dyrick,' I answered quietly. 'There is the villagers' case to come. And still a murderer to be found, incidentally.'

  'He has been found.'

  'I do not think even you believe Ettis guilty.'

  'Body of our Lord!' he burst out. 'You are the most troublesome fellow I ever encountered!'

  'Calm yourself, Brother.'

  'I will be calm when you and your impertinent clerk leave this house.'

  'And I hope you remain calm when next we meet, at Ettis's trial or in the Court of Requests. I have your mark now, Dyrick, I see you clearly.'

  'You see nothing. You never have. Master Hobbey and the family, by the way, can I think do without your farewells.' Dyrick flounced out, closing the door with an ear-splitting bang.

  * * *

  WE ROSE EARLY the following morning. We breakfasted in the kitchen, and said farewell to old Ursula, toiling there as usual, who thanked us for our interest in Hugh. 'Though you never found why they told that wicked lie about Master Calfhill saying he loved Hugh, did you, sir?'

  'No, Ursula. And without Hugh's cooperation, I do not think anyone can.'

  She looked at me imploringly. 'You will help Master Ettis, though? He's a good man. He never killed Mistress Hobbey.'

  'Of course.' I looked at her seriously. 'Have you any idea who could have, Ursula?'

  'None, sir. It was a wicked act, for all her strange ways. God pardon her.'

  'Amen. I will not be returning here, but if you hear anything I should know, will you tell Mistress Ettis? She knows how to contact me.'

  'I will, sir. Unless the French get us all first.' She curtsied deeply, but I could see my lack of success had disappointed her.

  Outside it was another hot, still day. We loaded our saddlebags onto Oddleg and the horse Barak had been using. I thought, in three or four days we shall be returning them to the supplier at Kingston.

  'What will you do about the Rolfswood inquest?' Barak asked after we had mounted.

  'When we get back to London I will make contact with the Sussex coroner. I will ensure Priddis is questioned. I'll ask the Queen to use her influence if need be.'

  'That will all take time.'

  'I know.'

  'Look there,' he said quietly. I followed his gaze to where David and Hugh were walking together from the house to the butts with their bows and arrowbags. Hugh turned and saw us. He laid down his bow and came over to me, his expression cold. David simply stood and stared.

  'You are leaving then?' Hugh said abruptly.

  'Yes. And you will shortly hear the claim in the Court of Wards is to be abandoned.'

  'I wish it had never been started.'

  I held out my hand. 'Farewell, Hugh.'

  The boy looked at it, then stared at me coldly again.

  'Will you give farewell to my master?' Barak asked hotly. 'Impertinent puppy, all he has done has been to try and help you.'

  Hugh met his gaze. 'Like making me tell the inquest what I felt about Mistress Hobbey? A strange ki
nd of help. And now, I am going to try to distract David with some practice of honest archery. We may be needed, mere boys as we are, if the French approach up that road.' He turned on his heel and walked away. 'Come, Jack,' I said quietly. 'Time we were gone.'

  * * *

  AGAIN WE TRAVELLED south through the summer woodland. Trees were still being felled in Hugh's woods. Two carts loaded with oak trunks, the ends still damp with sap, pulled out of a side track and rumbled south towards Portsmouth.

  We pressed on, through the rich summer landscape, the air becoming hotter as the morning advanced. We rode up the long steep incline of Portsdown Hill, hard going for the horses, and crested the escarpment. There we halted and looked down again on that extraordinary view. Nearly all the fleet seemed to be anchored out in the Solent now, only a few small ships lay in Portsmouth Haven. The ships were gathered together in three long lines, except for three—a giant, which had to be the Great Harry, and two other big ships that were sailing east along the coast of Portsea Island.

  'They're lined up for battle,' Barak said quietly.

  I looked out to the eastern end of the Isle of Wight. Somewhere, out of sight still, the enemy was approaching across that calm blue sea.

  * * *

  AT THE BRIDGE between the mainland and Portsea Island there were large soldiers' encampments now on both sides of the tidal stream, and heavy cannon. I had put on my lawyer's robes and we were allowed through when I said we had business in the town. Supplies were still coming, many of the loaded carts heading towards the long line of tents along the coast.

  As we rode downhill, Barak said, 'Those are the royal tents behind that little lake.'

  'Yes.' I counted twenty of the huge tents, in a myriad of different colours and designs, strung out parallel to the coast. More were being erected.

  'Do you think the King is going to camp there and watch the sea battle if it comes?'

  'Perhaps. Maybe the Queen too.'

  'You have to admire old Henry's courage.'

  'Or foolhardiness. Come, let's find Leacon.'

  * * *

  OUTSIDE THE city walls, where men still laboured hard to thicken the mud walls, companies of soldiers were practising manoeuvres: running with long pikes held before them, staging mock battles with bills, improving their archery at makeshift butts. All the men were brown from their time in the sun. Officers, mostly on horseback, rode to and fro supervising them, but I did not see Leacon. There were so many more tents that it was hard to get our bearings. The stink of ordure was unbearable.

  We found the place where Leacon's company had been billeted and dismounted. All the tents in this part of the camp, though, were closed and empty except for one some way off, where a young soldier sat alone, eating bread and cheese from a wooden trencher. I recognized him as one of Leacon's men. His face was spotted with mosquito bites, and I noticed the long collar above his tunic was frayed, the tunic itself filthy. I asked if he knew where the rest of the company was.

  'Gone to the ships, sir,' he answered. 'To get their sea legs and practise shooting from a ship. I've been left to guard the tents. They'll be back tonight.'

  'We saw some warships out at sea.'

  'Yes. The Great Harry and the Mary Rose and the Murrain are out, they said. There's five companies gone on them.'

  'Thank you.'

  Barak asked him, 'How do you find this life, mate?'

  'Never seen anything like it. The King is coming to view the fleet tomorrow. And they say the French will be here in a few days. Two weeks ago I was a churchwarden's assistant. That'll teach me to practise archery.'

  'Ay, it can be a dangerous thing.'

  The soldier gestured at his trencher. 'Look at this shit they're giving us to eat. Half-mouldy cheese and bread like a stone. Reminds me of the famine back in '27, when I was a child. I've walked with bent legs ever since.' He took a drink from a wooden tankard at his side. I saw a Latin phrase embossed in large letters: If God be for us,who can be against us?

  'I hope you find a safe billet, fellow,' I said.

  'Thank you.'

  We rode away. 'What now?' Barak asked.

  'To the Godshouse, see if they can tell us where Master West might be.'

  'Probably out in harbour, on the Mary Rose.'

  'He may be ashore, or come ashore tonight.' I said hesitantly, 'We should try to find an inn in town. We may have to stay the night.'

  He sighed and said, 'All right, one night if need be. Jesu, that soldier, I thought, he could have been me. So I owe you one night here.'

  I looked up at the walls as we rode on to the town, the soldiers patrolling to and fro along the fighting platform at the top. The great guns bristled at the towers, long black barrels pointing outwards at us.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  WE HAD TO WAIT a long time at the gate. The soldiers were questioning everyone about their business in Portsmouth, wary no doubt of French spies. I said I had legal business at the Guildhall, and that got us through.

  Portsmouth was even more crowded now, tents pitched everywhere within the walls, soldiers practising drill. We rode down the High Street, steering through the crowd of merchants and labourers, soldiers and sailors, English and foreign. Many of the servicemen, like the soldiers at the camp, were starting to look ragged and dirty. Heavy carts still lumbered towards the wharf, drivers shouting at people to get out of the way. The sour stench of sweat was everywhere, mingling with the harsh smell from the brewhouses.

  Barak wriggled. 'Shit, I've got fleas again already.'

  'Must have been from the camp. Let's try to find a clean inn, then go to the Godshouse.'

  We turned into Oyster Street and rode towards the wharf. The tide was full, the Camber filled with rowboats waiting their turn to deliver goods from the wharf to the ships. We rode almost to the wharf; from here we could see out across the low-lying Point to where the triple line of ships stood at anchor in the Solent. They looked even more breathtaking than on our first visit, for now there were well over fifty, of all sizes from the giant warships to small forty-foot vessels. Few had any of their sails up; even the Galley Subtle stood with its oars at rest. The very stillness of the fleet added to its solid might, the only moving things the flags on the masts of the large warships flapping in the light breeze. An enormous flag of St George flew from the foremast of the Mary Rose above the brightly painted triple decks of the forecastle. I saw the giant bulk of the Great Harry sailing slowly away into the Solent, some of its great white sails raised.

  Barak followed my gaze. 'Maybe Leacon and the company are there.'

  'Then they won't be back for hours.'

  * * *

  WE FOUND an inn in Oyster Street. It catered for the wealthier clientele, No Brawlers or Chiders scrawled on a large sign by the door. The innkeeper charged a shilling to take us. He would not be beaten down, saying we were lucky to get accommodation at all.

  'I hear the King comes tomorrow,' I said.

  'Ay. In the morning, to view the ships. The populace have been told to line the streets.'

  'There must be many royal officials seeking accommodation in town.'

  He shook his head. 'They're all comfortable in the royal tents along the coast. If Portsmouth is besieged, they'll ride off. It's us poor citizenry who'll be trapped here.'

  We stabled the horses, took our panniers to our little room, then went out again. We walked back up Oyster Street, hands on belts for fear of cutpurses among the milling crowds, towards the open space in front of the Square Tower. On the platform soldiers with spiked bills marched and turned to drumbeats. A group of small boys stood watching and cheering.

  There was a sudden tremendous crash that sent me jumping backwards. Barak flinched too, though the soldiers did not break step. One of the boys pointed at me and laughed. 'See the hunchback jump! Yah! Crookback!'

  'Fuck off, you little arseholes!' Barak shouted. The boys fled, laughing. We stared up at the Square Tower, where wreaths of grey-black smoke were dispers
ing into the sky. A group of soldiers bent to reload one of the huge cannon pointing out to sea. Practice, I guessed.

  We walked down to the Godshouse gate. This time we did not have Leacon to help us gain entry; I told the guard we had business with a senior officer on the Mary Rose, Master Philip West, and asked where he might be. 'It is a legal matter,' I said, 'important family news. We would not have come to Portsmouth today unless it were necessary.'

  'No one's coming now if they can avoid it. You should talk to one of the clerks at the old infirmary.'

  'Thank you.' We passed into the Godshouse courtyard. Barak looked at me dubiously. 'Should we be lying to these people?' he asked.

  'It's the only way I'll get to see West.'

  'You realize he may not be happy to answer your questions.'

  'I'll tell him the information I have came from his mother. As it did.'

  I looked around. Everywhere men in uniform or the bright robes of senior officials were walking and talking. We went up to the door of the old infirmary, where I told the guard my story about needing to see West. He let us pass inside.

  The infirmary, still with its stained-glass windows showing saints in postures of prayer and supplication, had been partitioned off into a series of rooms. Through an open doorway I saw two officials arguing, a paper on the table between them. 'I tell you she can't take the extra hundred soldiers,' one said in urgent tones. 'The refit's made her even heavier—'

  'She made it safe from Deptford, didn't she?' the other answered dismissively. He slapped the paper. 'These are the complements decided for each ship, approved by the King. Do you want to go to Portchester and argue with him?' The man looked up and caught my eye. Frowning irritably, he reached over and slammed the door shut.

  A black-robed clerk passed, accompanied by a man in a lawyer's robe. I stepped in front of him. 'Excuse me, Brother, might you help me? I need to speak urgently with of one of the ship's officers, Philip West. I believe he is on the Mary Rose.'

  The clerk paused, impressed by my serjeant's robe. 'All the officers are staying on the ships now. I doubt they'd let a civilian on board. Perhaps you could send a message.'