Heartstone

WE WALKED BACK down the High Street. My mind was in a whirl. 'Jack,' I said. 'This goes deeper than I thought. Rich is personally involved.'

'Did you see his eye twitching? I thought he was going to strike you.'

'I think he went back inside before he lost control of himself. So that's it. That meeting with Rich and Seymour at Hampton Court was truly no accident. He arranged it, he set those corner boys on me. Rich is connected somehow to whatever happened to Hugh. There was something, there is something.' I paused. 'And Michael Calfhill died. And the clerk Mylling . . . If that's so, the scale of this . . .'

'All the more reason to get out of here. You know how dangerous Rich is.'

I considered. 'He could have had me arrested if he wanted to, right there, on some trumped-up charge. But he didn't. Whatever connects him to the Hobbeys and Hugh, he doesn't want me talking of it, to Paulet or anyone.'

'How did he learn you were being brought into that case so early?'

I spoke heavily. 'The only other person who knew what my business was with the Queen that day was Robert Warner.'

'Who you think might be connected to the Rolfswood matter too.'

'And vulnerable to blackmail if he was involved. Blackmail is one of Rich's specialities.'

Barak was looking round carefully as we walked. He said, 'With all the people in the town it would be easy for Rich to get someone to knife you in the guts.'

'No. This is where the Queen's patronage protects me. If anything happened to me now she would leave no stone unturned to find out why. For all his bombast Rich cannot touch me.'

'You think she's that fond of you? Rich still stands high with the King; he's been kept on despite that corruption scandal last year.'

'The Queen would not desert me. If she began an investigation, who knows what might come tumbling out? No, Rich may watch me now, but that is all.'

'Do you think Seymour is involved with Rich in the Curteys matter?'

I shook my head. 'I think it more likely Rich and Seymour were both at Hampton Court that day, and Rich invited Seymour to wait with him for me to come out. It would have been an entertainment for Seymour and would help Rich intimidate me.'

Barak stopped suddenly in the road, ignoring a curse from a passing water carrier. 'Look, can't we just leave now?'

'You can, but I'm staying. Until tomorrow morning, as we agreed.'

He sighed. 'Well, for God's sake keep a careful eye out. Come on, we'll be safer at the wharf. Tonight we sleep with knives at the ready and tomorrow we get out of here first thing.'

'What can it be?' I asked. 'What can connect Rich to second-rank gentry like the Hobbeys?'

He answered curtly, 'Wait till we're back in London, then you can try to find out.'

* * *

RETURNING TO Oyster Street, we walked towards the wharf. Across the Point we saw the Great Harry moving back towards the lines of warships with a heavy, stately slowness, the masts and raised topsail rearing high into the sky. The leviathan confidently manoeuvred its way over to a place in the outer line of ships, in front of the Mary Rose

. A number of other ships had untied the big rowboats they pulled behind them, and these now moved carefully round to the side of the giant warship. I made out tiny figures descending some sort of ladder to the rowboats. Two more warships, smaller than the Great Harry but still huge, appeared and made slowly for the line.

'Looks like the soldiers are returning,' Barak said.

We sat on a bench outside one of the warehouses, leaning our backs against the wall. I looked across the harbour to the Gosport shore, where another fort stood opposite the Round Tower. The sun was low now, in a fiery red sky that presaged another hot day.

* * *

THE FIRST GROUP of soldiers to disembark were strangers. They came ashore quietly, with none of the usual talking and jesting, some stumbling a little on the steps. A whiffler drew the men into line and marched them away.

Several more groups landed before Leacon at last appeared at the top of the steps. About half the company followed. Among them familiar faces appeared: Carswell and Tom Llewellyn, Pygeon and Sulyard. Like the earlier groups some wore jacks, others leather or woollen jerkins, and Pygeon wore the brigandyne he had won from Sulyard. Snodin brought up the rear, puffing and blowing as he mounted the steps. Like the earlier groups the men were unusually silent; even Carswell seemed to have no jests this evening. Only the oafish Sulyard seemed in high spirits, his swagger returned. The men formed a ragged line on the wharf, not noticing us in the shadow of the warehouse. One man cast off his helmet and scratched his head. 'These fucking lice!'

'Stop making your moan!' Snodin yelled at him. The whiffler was evidently in a bad temper. 'Whining miserable cur.' Several of the men gave Snodin nasty looks.