Heartstone

LIPHOOK WAS small, a village rather than a town, and there were only two inns. As at Cobham, there were carts everywhere. There was only one room at the better inn, which I let Dyrick and Feaveryear take. A small bribe secured Barak and I a little room at the other. Barak flopped down on the bed, sending up a cloud of dust from his clothes.

'I wonder if Dyrick will let Feaveryear crouch praying in their room. Dear God, I hope Master Hobbey doesn't make me share with him.'

'Maybe he will convert you to his saintly ways.'

'Let's hope we find Hugh Curteys happy as a pig in muck.'

'Amen to that.' I stretched my legs. 'God's death, I swear I heard the bones creak.' I hesitated, then said, 'I think I will go for a walk, stretch my legs. And see if I can find a barber.'

Barak looked up in surprise. 'Are you not going to rest?'

'I will be back later.' I went out quickly, uncomfortable that I had not told the truth. I had decided Liphook was a good place to begin my enquiries about Ellen. Having sworn not to involve Barak, I had not mentioned her name since we left London. Nor had he, though I knew he would not have forgotten my intention to investigate her past.

* * *

I DECIDED to ask first at the larger inn. I paused, though, at a barber's shop in a side street and had a shave. Dyrick, had mentioned earlier that he would look for a barber in Liphook and I found myself hoping he would not find it; let him turn up at Hoyland Priory looking unkempt. I shook my head: his endless competitiveness was infecting me.

The inn parlour was busy and I had to elbow my way to the serving hatch, where a plump, weary-looking man stood handing out mugs of beer. I waited my turn, ordered a beer, then laid a groat on the bar and leaned forward. 'I am looking for information about a place over the Sussex border,' I said quietly. 'Rolfswood.'

He looked at me curiously. 'I come from near there.'

'How far is it?'

'You need to get off the Portsmouth road south of Horndean, then take the road east about five miles.'

'Is it a big place?'

'No. A little market town.' He looked at me curiously. 'What d'ye want at Rolfswood? Not much there since the ironworks went.'

'They work iron there?'

'Used to. There's a small seam to the north. There was a little bloomery furnace in Rolfswood, but since it burned down the ore gets taken east.'

'Burned down?' I remembered Ellen's face, her words: He burned! The poor man, he was all on fire!

'When I was a young man the owner and his assistant were killed. It must be twenty years ago.'

'An accident while they were—what is it—casting?'

The potman took the groat, then leaned over the bar. 'No. It was during the summer, the old bloomery foundries only operate in the winter. What's your interest, sir?'

'Can you remember the names of the people who were killed?'

'I've been gone a long time, but I remember the owner's name: Fettiplace.'

My mind raced. Twenty years ago, the very time Ellen had been attacked and put in the Bedlam. Something else had happened in Rolfswood, as well as the rape. Two people had died. He burned!

My heart pounded. I turned abruptly from the hatch, and found myself looking straight at Feaveryear, who had been standing behind me, his greasy locks dangling over his sunburned brow.

Three days of irritation with Dyrick's jibes and Feaveryear's sour face boiled over. 'God's death, clerk,' I cried. 'Have you been eavesdropping?'

Feaveryear's mouth dropped open. 'No, sir, I was behind you in the queue. I came in for a beer.'

I looked around. 'Where's Dyrick? You are a spy, clerk!'

'I am not, Master Shardlake.' Feaveryear spoke hotly, his big Adam's apple twitching. 'Master Dyrick wanted to sleep, he sent me out and I came here. On my honour as a Christian, I heard you say something to that man about an ironworks that burned down, that is all.'

He seemed genuinely outraged. I saw how tired he looked, dark rings under his eyes. 'I am sorry,' I said quietly. 'I should not have shouted. Come and sit down.'

Feaveryear followed me reluctantly to a place on a bench. 'I apologize if I was mistaken,' I said. 'I have other business in Sussex, for another client.'

'You are apologizing to me, sir?' He looked surprised. 'Then I thank you.'

There was silence for a moment, then I said, 'The journey has been harder than I expected. The soldiers keep a fast pace.'

His face closed again, went sour and disapproving. 'My master says it is all unnecessary.'

I wondered whether Dyrick had used Feaveryear to spy out our plans before the hearing. Perhaps he had even been to the Court of Wards and bribed Mylling. I remembered the corner boys, the sack over my head. 'Well,' I answered neutrally, 'we shall see what we find.' I looked at him curiously. 'Have you worked for Master Dyrick long?'