Heartstone

One strange thing; yesterday I entered the parlour and startled Josephine, who was dusting. She jumped and dropped a little vase, which broke. I was sure I heard her utter a word, 'Merde', which I know for a French oath. She was apologetic and frightened as ever, so I made little of it, but it was an odd thing.

Today I go to the Bedlam to visit Ellen; I will let you know how she fares. Having prayed much on the matter I feel all the more that the best help you can give her is to leave her be. But you must decide.

Your true and loving friend,

Guy Malton

I folded the letter. Despite what he said, I had already decided to visit Rolfswood on the way home; I felt I must. I sighed and went to look out of the window. I could see the little cemetery, a jumble of stones set amidst unkempt grass. I thought, Dyrick is right, Hugh is glowing with health. And Nicholas Hobbey's tone had never varied from urbane politeness. He hardly seemed the man to have set those corner boys on me. But something was wrong here, I felt it.

* * *

A SUBSTANTIAL SUPPER was served in the great hall. Dusk was falling and candles were lit in sconces round the chamber. Hobbey sat at the head of the table, Hugh and Dyrick on one side and David and Abigail on the other. I took the remaining chair, next to Abigail. The steward stood behind Hobbey, presiding as servants brought in the food, their footsteps clicking on the worn, decorated tiles of the old church. Apart from Ursula, most were young men. I wondered how many servants the Hobbeys would keep; a dozen perhaps.

I was conscious of a wheezy, snuffling noise beside me. I looked down and saw what seemed like a bundle of fur on Abigail's lap. Then I saw two small button eyes staring up at me with friendly curiosity. It was a little spaniel, like the Queen's dog, but very fat. Abigail smiled down at it with an unexpectedly tender expression.

'Father,' David said in a disgusted tone, 'Mother has Lamkin on her lap again.'

'Abigail,' Hobbey said in his quiet even voice, 'please let Ambrose take him out. We do not want him climbing on the table again, do we?'

Abigail allowed Fulstowe to take the dog, her eyes following as he carried it from the room. She glanced at me, a flash of something like hatred in her eyes. Fulstowe returned and stood behind his master again. Ursula set down an aromatic bowl of ginger sauce. Dyrick studied the food with an anticipatory smile. Hugh stared ahead, his face expressionless.

'Let us say grace,' Hobbey said.

* * *

IT WAS A splendid meal, cold roast goose with rich sauces and fine red wine in silver jugs. Dyrick and I, both hungry, set to eagerly.

'How are things in London?' Hobbey asked. 'I hear the currency has been debased again.'

'It has. It is causing much confusion and trouble.'

'I am glad I moved to the country. How was your journey? We have had storms here, but I know they were worse in London. I worried the roads would be muddy, and full of the King's traffic coming to Portsmouth.'

'So they were,' Dyrick agreed. 'But we were lucky, thanks to Brother Shardlake. We met up with an old client of his, a petty-captain of a company of archers, who let us ride with them. A blast from his trumpeteer and everyone moved out of the way.'

I saw Hugh turn and look at me intently. 'A grateful client?' Hobbey asked with a smile. 'What did you win for him?'

'The freehold of some land.'

He nodded, as though that was what he had expected. 'And they were heading for Portsmouth?'

'Yes. Country lads from Middlesex. One wants to go to London to be a playwright.'

'A country soldier writing plays?' Hobbey gave a little scoffing laugh. 'I never heard such a thing.'

'I believe he composed the rude ditties the soldiers sang on the road,' Dyrick said. 'Saving your presence, Mistress Abigail.' Abigail smiled tightly.

'Country lads should stay at the plough,' Hobbey said firmly.

'Except when they are called to defend us all?' Hugh asked quietly.

'Yes. When they are full grown.' Hobbey's look at his ward was suddenly severe.

Dyrick said, 'More men are marching south. And the King and Queen are coming to Portsmouth to review the ships, I hear.'

Hugh turned to me. 'The soldiers were archers, sir?'

'Yes, Master Curteys. Their skill with a bow had to be seen to be believed.'

'You should see Hugh and I practising at the butts,' David said, leaning across his mother. 'I am the stronger,' he added proudly.

'But I am the one who hits the mark,' Hugh countered quietly.