Heartstone Page 9

  ‘Do you think you will?’

  ‘If the case is allowed to go ahead next Monday, probably. Listen, tomorrow I will go and see Alderman Carver about this mess you’ve got yourself into. He owes me a favour. Then we can visit this vicar, see what he knows about the Curteys family. Bess will have to attend the hearing on Monday, by the way. I’m seeing her on Saturday. I don’t want her to know about Michael giving those corner boys looks. If he did.’

  ‘Maybe they decided to kill him.’

  ‘For giving them looks? Don’t be silly.’

  ‘What if we don’t come up with anything against Hobbey from the vicar?’

  ‘Then it’s more difficult. I’ll have to rely on the severity of Michael’s allegations and throw in the fact the wardship was put through very hurriedly. If need be I will say the Hobbey family need to answer interrogatories. If the court agrees, I’ll probably have to go down to Hampshire and take them myself. I’ll see Dyrick after we’ve found out whether there is any useful witness evidence.’

  ‘You’ll need someone with you if you go. This could be a dirty business. Ellen’s matter too.’

  ‘You’re not going, not with Tamasin about to give birth. A gentleman might take a steward on such a journey, but I’d rather join the army myself than take Coldiron. I’ll arrange something with Warner.’ I shook my head. ‘Wardship. Do you know what the motto of the Court of Wards is? Emblazoned above the door. “Pupillis Orphanis et Viduis Adiutor.” ’

  ‘You know I’m no hand at Latin.’

  ‘It means, a helper to wards, orphans and widows. There’s a verbal reference to Maccabees, about the aftermath of a war: “when they had given part of the spoils to the maimed, and the widows, and orphans.” ’

  ‘Now you’re showing off.’

  ‘It just struck me that whoever invented that had a dark sense of humour.’

  Barak was quiet a moment, then said, ‘I can think of a candidate.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I remember Lord Cromwell telling me he had been given an idea that could bring great revenue to the King. By granting out the lands of the monasteries on terms of knight service, bringing all the buyers within the scope of wardship.’ He looked at me steadily. ‘The man who gave him the idea was the head of the Court of Augmentations, which dealt with the monastic properties.’

  ‘Richard Rich.’

  ‘He was in charge of liveries in the old Office of Wards too. He put the two ideas together.’

  ‘I’d forgotten Rich used to deal with wardships.’

  ‘That rat has had a finger in every dirty pie. He betrayed my master that gave him office. Turned on him and condemned him when he lost the King’s favour.’ Barak clenched his fist, hard.

  ‘You still remember Cromwell with affection.’

  ‘Yes.’ There was defiance in his tone. ‘He was like a father to me. He took me off the streets when I was a lad. How could I not remember him well?’

  ‘He was the hardest of men. Promoted many of the hard men we have over us now. Like Sir William Paulet.’

  Barak shifted in his seat. ‘I didn’t like a lot of the things he got me to do,’ he said quietly. ‘Organizing spies and informers, occasionally frightening someone he thought needed it. But the people against him at court were no better, they hated him for his lowly origins as much as his radical religion. I sometimes still think of those days, my old work. Sometimes it used to make me feel alive.’

  ‘Doesn’t Tamasin make you feel alive? And the prospect of the child?’

  He looked at me as seriously as he ever had. ‘Yes. More than anything. But it’s a different sort of alive. I know I can’t have both.’ He was silent a moment, then stood. ‘Come, I’d best get back or I’ll be in more trouble.’

  Beyond the partition the shouting and singing continued. As I walked past, I turned my head to avoid Coldiron’s eye. One of the students was sprawled across the table now, dead drunk. Coldiron’s voice sounded out again, slurred now.

  ‘Twenty years I was a soldier. I’ve served in Carlisle, Boulogne, even in the Tower. All in the King’s service.’ His voice rose. ‘I killed the Scottish King. At Flodden, that great and mighty battle. The Scottish pikemen ran down the hill at us, their cannons firing behind, but we did not flinch.’

  ‘Englishmen never flinch!’ one of the students shouted, and the group slapped their hands loudly on the table.

  ‘Did you never want to settle down, Master Coldiron?’ one of the apprentices asked.

  ‘With this face? Never. Besides, who wants a woman bossing them around? Ever heard the saying, “There is but one shrew in the world and every man has her for a wife!” ’

  Laughter from the table followed us as we went out. And I thought, if you never married, then who is Josephine?

  Chapter Seven

  NEXT MORNING I set out for the Guildhall towards ten. I had sent Timothy round to Alderman Carver’s house the previous night with a message, and he had returned saying Carver could not see me earlier. It was a nuisance, for I had much to do. I had then sent a note to Barak’s house saying I would meet him outside St Evelyn’s church at eleven.

  After breakfast I again put on my best robe, coif and cap to impress Alderman Carver. I went into the parlour, where Guy, having breakfasted early as usual, was sitting at the table, reading his treasured copy of Vesalius’s De Humani Corporis Fabrica. His first copy had been stolen two years before by his former apprentice, and it had taken him much cost and trouble to find another. He was running a finger down one of the beautiful but gruesome illustrations, a flayed arm.

  ‘Studying again, I see, Guy.’

  ‘The intelligence of this book never ceases to astonish me.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Coldiron saw me reading it the other day and was very interested. Favoured me with stories of how much he saw of men’s insides at Flodden.’

  ‘He would. Guy, what do you think of Josephine?’

  He leaned back, considering. ‘She is shy. Not happy, I think. But that is hardly surprising with Coldiron for a father. She too saw me reading Vesalius the other day. She turned away and looked quite sick.’

  ‘I don’t blame her. She doesn’t have a young man, does she?’

  ‘No. A pity, for she is good-natured and could be pretty enough if she cared anything for her appearance.’

  ‘Coldiron is always criticizing her. That does little for her confidence.’

  ‘I was in the hall a few days ago and heard him shouting at her in the kitchen. Calling her a silly, empty-headed wench for dropping something. She burst into tears. I was surprised to hear Coldiron speak to her in comforting tones then. He said, “You’re safe with me.” Calling her his JoJo like he does.’

  ‘Safe from what?’ I shook my head. ‘I plan to dismiss him, but I wonder if there is any way of keeping her.’

  ‘I fear she relies on him entirely.’

  I sighed. ‘Well, I must be gone. To try and save Barak from the soldier’s life Coldiron brags about so.’

  AFTER THE STORM it was a cool, clear day with blue skies. As I walked along I thought about what I had discovered regarding Ellen. Like a good lawyer, I considered questions of organization, power. Some arrangement had been made with whoever was Bedlam warden in 1526, and kept going since. But by whom? Somehow, I did not know how, I had to rescue her.

  I walked down Cheapside again. It was another busy morning, more angry arguments going on about the new coins. I heard a couple of traders say the hailstorm had flattened many of the crops round London so there would be a dearth of grain again this year.

  I turned up to the Guildhall, and mounted the steps into the wide, echoing entrance hall. Master Carver was waiting for me, resplendent in his red alderman’s robes. Beside him, to my surprise, stood the bearded officer from Lincoln’s Inn Fields in his white and red uniform and with a sword at his belt. He looked at me grimly.

  ‘Good morning, Serjeant Shardlake,’ Carver said heartily. ‘I am sorry to hear of your clerk’s problem.’ He turne
d to the soldier. ‘Master Goodryke wished to be here, as the matter concerns him.’ The officer’s heavy brows drew together in a frown.

  ‘Your man was impertinent, sir,’ he said. ‘His behaviour was a defiance of the King’s authority. He does not possess a bow and did not even pretend to have been practising.’

  ‘That seems to be true of many,’ I answered mildly.

  ‘It is no excuse. I’m told by the constable this Barak is of Jewish stock; perhaps that’s why he shows no loyalty to England when we’re about to be invaded.’

  I thought, so that story’s got round. I forced a smile. ‘Barak can be – a little disrespectful. But he is a loyal Englishman; he worked for years for Lord Cromwell.’

  ‘Who was executed for treason,’ Goodryke countered sharply. ‘I don’t see any reason this man should be exempted because he used to work for a traitor.’ He tilted his chin at me aggressively.

  I tried again. ‘He has things on his mind. His wife has a baby due in a few weeks, and they lost the last one.’

  Alderman Carver nodded, looked sad. ‘Ah, that is hard. Is it not, Master Goodryke?’

  Goodryke was unmoved. ‘He flicked his fingers at me and told me to piss off, as though I were any common churl and he could shirk his duty where he liked. Many of the soldiers I’ve seen are unfit for service, but he seems a good strong fellow. He could make a pikeman.’

  ‘Well,’ I said quietly, ‘can we not come to some arrangement?’

  ‘Yes,’ Carver agreed eagerly. ‘Master Shardlake has acted for the Guildhall many times, I can vouch for him. And I have seen this Barak, he must be in his thirties now. Old for service. If you could show latitude I am sure Serjeant Shardlake would be willing to show his appreciation. Some contribution to your company, perhaps – ’

  Goodryke reddened even further. ‘This is not about money,’ he said in a stern voice, causing passing merchants to turn and stare. ‘That man is eligible to be called into service and needs to be taught discipline and loyalty.’

  Carver bit his lip and looked at me. ‘Serjeant Shardlake,’ he said, ‘perhaps we could have a little word, if Master Goodryke will allow us.’ Goodryke shrugged, and Carver took my arm and led me to a corner.

  ‘I miscalculated there,’ he said. ‘I thought he might be bought off. But Goodryke is a fierce fellow, he’s got the bit between his teeth. He has been a whiffler for many years—’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A junior officer in charge of training and discipline in military companies. He retired from the army, but joined the Trained Bands. He was only a watchman before and he is jealous of the authority the war has returned to him. He believes Barak has dishonoured our forces.’

  ‘Alderman, the welfare of Barak and his wife are important to me. If you can resolve this I would be happy to contribute a goodly sum to Goodryke’s company, though heaven knows I have little enough free cash with the next instalment of the Benevolence due.’

  ‘Leave it with me.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I have not forgotten how you won those lands my cousin claimed from me, against the odds.’ Carver raised his eyebrows. ‘And I know how Barak must feel, the army wants gentlemen to be captains of companies and they asked me to lead a company of London men. I managed to persuade them I would be of no use. I’ll talk to Goodryke’s superiors. I know you get cases from the Queen: can I mention that?’

  I hesitated, for I did not like to use the Queen’s name too readily. But I nodded.

  ‘As for Barak, make sure he doesn’t get into any more trouble. I’ll send a message as soon as I have news.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Carver lowered his voice. ‘I saw you looking on at the muster on Tuesday. To be honest I felt a fool sitting on that horse. This war – all because the King wants to hold Boulogne, which has no value.’

  I nodded in agreement. ‘Indeed. Do what you can, sir. Please.’ I turned away, nodding to Goodryke. He barely acknowledged me.

  I WALKED the short distance to Fall Lane. It was off Basinghall Street. London Wall and the high towers of the Moorgate were visible at a little distance. The houses were prosperous looking, with fine windows of mullioned glass and beautifully carved doorposts, backing onto the wide gardens of Drapers’ Hall. A merchant’s wife walked past, accompanied by two armed servants, a cloth vizard covering her face.

  A small old church stood at the top of the lane. I saw the pointed steeple with its gleaming weathercock was new; this was a wealthy parish. Barak sat on the wall by the lych gate, looking pensive. He stood as I approached. ‘The verger says Vicar Broughton will be along shortly,’ he told me, then added, ‘what news?’

  I told him of my encounter with Goodryke. His face fell when he realized the matter was not resolved. ‘Tammy will have my guts.’

  ‘Alderman Carver will do what he can. He’s on our side. The Common Council is weary of the King’s endless calls for them to raise more men. But they haven’t forgotten what happened to Alderman Read.’

  Barak laughed bitterly. ‘I should think they haven’t.’

  Read’s defiance had been the talk of London in January. The King had requested a Benevolence from the tax-paying classes, a ‘voluntary’ tax to add to all the others he had levied for the war. Read alone had refused, and for his pains had found himself conscripted into the army and serving with Lord Hertford’s forces on the Scottish border. He had been captured shortly after, and was now a prisoner of the Scots.

  ‘Has the Common Council no power left?’ Barak asked, kicking at a stone. ‘Londoners used to walk in fear of the aldermen.’

  I sat beside him on the wall, squinting in the sun. ‘And they walk in fear of the King. And this Goodryke is acting in his name. But Carver will go higher up the chain of command.’

  Barak was silent for a moment, then burst out, ‘Jesus, how did we get to this? There was peace with France for twenty years till this started.’

  ‘Perhaps the King sees keeping Boulogne as his last chance for glory. And he had his alliance with Emperor Charles last year.’

  ‘Right worthless that proved. The Emperor made his own peace and now we face France alone.’

  I looked at him. ‘If they succeed in invading us they won’t be kind. Nor will their Scots allies. And from what the Queen said, invasion is coming.’

  ‘I won’t leave Tamasin now.’ He clenched his fists hard. ‘They’ll have to drag me away.’

  I rose hastily as a man in a white cassock approached. Elderly, stooping, with a long grey beard. I nudged Barak. ‘Quick, get up.’ We bowed to the clergyman. His expression was serious, but his brown eyes looked kind. ‘Master Shardlake?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Master Broughton? This is my assistant, Barak.’

  ‘It is about the Curteys family?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘at last someone has come.’

  HE LED US into the church. The interior was bare, empty niches where statues of saints had once stood, stools set out for the congregation with copies of the King’s compulsory new primer laid out on them. Broughton bade us sit, lowering himself onto a stool facing us. ‘You are a lawyer, sir, I see. Do you represent Hugh Curteys? He was the only one of that poor family left.’

  ‘No. Hugh still lives with Master Hobbey, down in Hampshire. I have not met him. But a complaint against Master Hobbey’s conduct of his wardship has been laid by his old tutor, Michael Calfhill.’

  Broughton smiled. ‘I remember Michael well. An honest young gentleman.’

  ‘Did he visit you recently?’ I asked.

  Broughton shook his head. ‘I have not seen Michael in six years.’ That was a blow; I had hoped Michael had come here more recently. ‘How fares he?’ the vicar asked.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Michael Calfhill died three weeks ago. I am sorry.’

  The vicar closed his eyes for a moment. ‘May his soul be received in Heaven, by Jesus’s grace.’

  ‘Shortly before he died, Michael laid a Bill
of Information before the Court of Wards, alleging that some monstrous injustice had been committed against Hugh Curteys. According to his mother he had recently been in Hampshire and had visited him.’

  ‘God help us,’ Broughton said. ‘What did he find?’

  ‘His Information does not say. But there is a hearing on Monday. I am going to represent his mother. I need witnesses who know about this wardship, sir. Urgently.’

  Broughton collected his thoughts, then looked at me directly. ‘I knew that wardship was tainted. John and Ruth Curteys were my parishioners for years. When reform of the Church came they supported me in breaking with the old ways. They were stalwarts. I saw their children born, christened them, saw the family prosper. And then I buried John and Ruth.’ His face twitched with emotion.

  ‘Did they have any other family?’

  Broughton clasped his hands on his lap. ‘They came to London from Lancaster. Like many young folk John came here to seek his fortune. In time their parents died. When the plague took John and Ruth there was only an old aunt of Ruth’s left in the north that she spoke of sometimes and wrote to. Michael came to me, concerned by Master Hobbey’s interest in the children’s wardship – I suggested he look for letters from her, and I would write to her. Sir,’ he burst out suddenly, ‘how did Michael die?’

  I answered gently, ‘The verdict was suicide. What he found in Hampshire may have disturbed the balance of his mind.’

  ‘Oh, dear God.’ Broughton put his head in his hands.

  ‘I am sorry, sir. But please, tell me what you can about the wardship. What of the aunt?’

  ‘Michael brought her address. By that time, he said, Nicholas Hobbey was already taking away papers and books of account. Michael argued with him, but Hobbey brushed him aside – Michael had no status.’

  ‘It sounds as though you knew Michael well.’

  Broughton sighed and shook his head. ‘Michael came to church with the family every Sunday. But no, I never felt I knew him. Nor that he fully trusted me. I wondered if he was a secret papist, but I do not think so. Something troubled him though. But he loved those two children and did all he could to help them. We became – ’ he smiled – ‘conspirators, for the children’s welfare.’