Heartstone

West bit his lip. 'I've got to go and get that food onto the ship, we haven't enough for tonight—' His eyes widened at the sound of footsteps. He stepped quickly outside, shutting the door and leaving me with Peel. I recognized the purser's voice. 'What are you doing in there?' he asked West. His voice was puzzled, but not suspicious.

'Checking that last barrel of pork, sir. It's rancid.'

'The supplies still aren't here. The cook says there's barely enough stockfish left with all the soldiers staying on board overnight. The master says you've to go over to the warehouses now yourself, bring those supplies across at once. Or we'll have nothing and there'll be trouble. Get one of the rowboats going back.'

'Does it have to be me?'

'You're the one that's supposed to be negotiating with them. Go now.'

I heard the purser's footsteps retreating again, then the door slid open. 'You heard that?' West asked.

'Yes.' Peel gave my shin a vicious kick. 'You're going to be trouble to the end, aren't you?'

'Listen,' West said urgently. 'You must get off the ship, people will be asking who that boatman is. I'll deal with Shardlake later. I have to go now. After I come back I'll find a time when it's quiet, it usually is for a while about three, then kill him and sling him through one of the gun ports.' West looked down at me. His face was anguished, I realized that unlike Peel he did not relish coldblooded murder. But I knew, too, that he would do it. He was, as Rich had said, a man concerned ultimately with his own honour. He would die for his vanity, and kill for it too.

* * *

I WAS LEFT IN total darkness. I heard, faintly, footsteps and murmuring voices from the aftercastle above, an officer's whistle. I thought, Leacon and his men are up there, and Emma. There would be no taking her off now. I lay helpless on the floor. The smell from the barrel behind me was horrible. I felt a savage anger against West and Rich but also against myself. My obsessive quarrying for the truth about Ellen and Hugh had ended here. And Ellen: would West still protect her from Rich after this? Better I had never left London in the first place.

I heard someone moving about in the cabin next door, but there was no way I could call for attention. I tried banging my feet on the floor, every movement sending sharp twinges of pain into my back, but I was so tightly bound I was able only to make a light scraping noise, too faint to be noticed next door.

After a while I noticed tiny points of flickering light above and below me. Lamplight, I realized, coming through minute gaps in the planking. Darkness must have fallen.

The smell from the barrel of rotten meat grew worse than ever in the hot, thick, stinking air. Twice footsteps sounded outside but they passed on. Then I heard bangs and grunts and muttering from outside, I thought from the companionway to the upper deck which I had descended. I wondered if West had fetched the supplies and they were being brought down to the kitchen. I heard a voice. 'Do you want some in the little storeroom, sir?'

West's voice answered sharply. 'No! Down to the kitchen.'

The noise went on for a long time, then ceased. Then I heard West's voice again, on an angry note. 'What are you three men doing here?'

A Devon accent answered, 'We've to stay down here with the cannon tonight, sir, to make sure all is safe lest the ship roll. Orders from the master. There's a full barrel of gunpowder here, sir.'

There was silence. I could almost feel West, outside, wondering how he might be able to get rid of these men, kill me, and dispose of me. Then, to my relief, I heard his footsteps retreating.

For hours and hours I lay there, constantly moving my bound body to try and ease the pains that racked it, fearing that West might find some way to get rid of those sailors keeping watch on the gun-deck. All the time the dim pinhole points of light came and went, and muffled voices and occasional whistles sounded from the deck above. I doubt anyone on the Mary Rose slept much that night.

Chapter Forty-six

DESPITE THE PAIN, I found myself drifting in and out of an exhausted doze, starting awake from spasms in my back or shoulders. Several times footsteps outside made me start, fearing West was returning, but always they passed on. The noises of the ship quieted for a while, leaving an hour or two of uneasy near silence save for a bell tolling a change of watch. I was desperately thirsty, my mouth as dry as the gag Peel had stuffed into it.

I dozed again, and found myself dreaming. I was riding into Hampshire with the soldiers, marching along the green, tunnel-like lanes. I was at the head of the company, beside Leacon. Suddenly he turned and said, 'Who's that?' I followed his gaze and realized that some of the soldiers I knew, Carswell and Llewellyn and Pygeon and Sulyard, were carrying a bier on which a body in white grave clothes lay. It was Ellen.