Heartstone

AS THE MORNING wore on I found the journey increasingly wearying. For the marching men it was much harder, and I noticed those with old shoes were beginning to limp. In front of us dark sweat stains were visible on all the brigandynes now, outlining the metal squares sewn into the fabric. The soldiers slowed and the drum sounded to make them pick up the pace. Some were grousing by the time the trumpet sounded a halt just outside a village, beside a large pond fringed with willows. A couple of white-aproned old goodwives approached us and Leacon spoke to them, leaning down from his horse. Then he conferred briefly with the captain before calling back to the men.

'We stop here for lunch! The villagers have ham and bacon to sell. Purser, get some money! And the jacks and brigandynes can come off now!'

'Can we buy some women as well as food, sir?' It was the young corporal from the rear section. The soldiers laughed, and Leacon smiled.

'Ah, Stephen Carswell, never at a loss for a jest!'

'Hillingdon men are more used to donkeys than women!' the bully Sulyard shouted. He laughed loudly, showing a mouth half-empty of teeth.

The men fell out and sat at the roadside again, apart from a few who went to the carts and began unloading biscuit, cheese and a barrel of beer. I had to admire the smoothness of the company's organization. Leacon and the captain led their horses to the water, and we lawyers followed.

While the animals drank, Dyrick went to sit under the shade of a willow, Feaveryear following. Barak and I went over to where Leacon stood alone, watching his men. Some were straggling towards the village.

'Hard work, being in charge of a hundred men,' I observed.

'Ay. We have our grumblers, one or two rebellious spirits. Carswell there is our jester. A good man—I think he is one of those who will still joke as they march into battle.'

'That straw-haired fellow seems a nasty piece of work. He started the trouble with the other man this morning, you know.'

He sighed. 'Yes, Sulyard is a troublemaker. But Snodin dislikes poor Pygeon for his clumsy ways. Junior officers will sometimes take against a man for little reason.'

'You are right there,' Barak agreed feelingly.

'I think it was unjust,' I said.

Leacon gave me an impatient look. 'This is the army, Master Shardlake, not a law court. Snodin's job is to keep discipline and he may have to do that in battle, so I avoid gainsaying his decisions. Hard as he is, I need him. Sir Franklin is—well, you have met him.'

'What was that business about buttons earlier?'

'You may have noticed some soldiers have buttons on their shirts, while others tie them with aiglets. Sir Franklin believes only gentlemen should be allowed to wear buttons. It is, shall we say, something of an obsession.'

'Buttons?' Barak repeated disbelievingly.

'Yes. Not that he is altogether wrong, the men like keeping as many as they can of the social distinctions they had before. That is part of the trouble between Sulyard and Pygeon. They come from the same village—Pygeon is a labourer's son, Sulyard the son of a yeoman. Though only a second son.'

'Whose inheritance was ever what the cat left on the malt heap.'

'He was keen to join the company, and he is a good longbow-man.'

'Would there had never been need to recruit this army,' I said.

Leacon looked across to the village, then round to where a long field of strips crested the downland. People were hard at work weeding their rows. He spoke with sudden passion. 'We have to protect these people, Master Shardlake. That is why this army was levied. And now I must find where the captain has wandered off to.' He strode away.

'I think I offended him,' I said to Barak.

'He must know what people think of the war.'

'Yet in the end he is right about the need to defend ourselves. And he and his men are the ones who must do it.'

'Come on,' Barak said. 'Let's go to the village. I wouldn't mind a piece of bacon.'

* * *

THE VILLAGE had no real centre; longhouses of various sizes were jumbled together at odd angles, paths weaving between them. In front of the bakehouse, a low square building, a table was loaded with bacon and thick slices of ham. Several soldiers were arguing with the women who had come out to us and now stood behind it. Sulyard was at the centre of the argument, shouting. More villagers were coming out of their houses.

One of the old women was waving a coin at Sulyard with just the air of outraged fury I had seen in Cheapside ten days before. 'This is no proper coin!' she shouted. 'It's not silver! Shame on you, the King's soldiers trying to cheat us!'

Sulyard bawled back. 'It's one of the new coins, you doltish country mare! It's a testoon, a shilling!'

A tall old man stepped up to him, grim-faced. 'Don't you insult my wife, ape!' He gave Sulyard a little push. Another soldier stepped forward and shoved him back.

'Don't you push Sulyard! Ape he is, but he's our ape!'

Carswell, the corporal, raised his hands. 'Come, lads. Don't make trouble, or we'll end marching in the jacks all day.'