Heartstone

food.'

'There's a barrel of good stockfish cooking now. It's all that's left. The pork was bad. We must get those fresh supplies tonight.'

The purser looked at me. 'Are you the lawyer with the message?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Delivered it?' He looked at West, who had composed his face.

'I have—'

'Then get out. They shouldn't have let you on board.'

'I—'

'God's death, get out! Now!'

* * *

ON DECK the men sat with bowls and spoons in their laps, faces sullen. Officers now patrolled the deck. As I watched, the master appeared from a doorway in the forecastle. He stood on the walkway above us, blew his whistle shrilly, and shouted down in a loud clear voice: 'Men! Your food is coming! The pork was bad, but there's stockfish cooking! More stores will be brought across tonight! And I have had word that when the King comes to Portsmouth tomorrow he is coming to inspect the Mary Rose! He is to dine on the Great Harry, then come here afterwards. All know the Mary Rose is his favourite ship! So come, lads, cry 'God save King Harry!''

The sailors looked at each other, then ragged cries of 'God save King Harry!' sounded along the deck. Some of the foreign sailors, not understanding, looked at each other in puzzlement. 'Hail the King, dogs!' someone shouted at them. The master stepped across the walkway to the aftercastle. I made my way to Leacon, who stood watching by the blinds. He gave me my robe; I was glad to put it on, feeling chilled in the night air after the heat of the galley.

'What's the matter, Matthew?' he asked. 'You look as though you'd seen a ghost.'

'For a moment I thought I was in Hell, down in that galley.'

'I hope they really do have some food.'

'They do.' I heard the master's voice from high up in the aftercastle, more cheers for the King.

'And you?' Leacon asked. 'Did you find Master West? Did you get the answers you sought?'

I sighed. 'Only some. The purser arrived and ordered me off. I got enough answers to worry me, though.'

He looked at me seriously. 'I have to get back to camp.'

'Of course. There is no more I can do here.'

Leacon leaned through the blind, signalling to the boatman below. He helped me clamber through. I found my footing on the rope ladder and we descended to the boat. The boatman pulled out again, over the moonlit sea. I looked back at the Mary Rose, then across to the Great Harry. 'Now we know what they were doing with that pig,' I said. 'Practising lifting the King aboard. He'd never get up a ladder.'

'No. The master did well to marshal the sailors then, that was a nasty mood developing on deck. By Mary, the people organizing the supplies—cheating merchants, corrupt officials.'

Like Richard Rich, I thought.

'Best the French come soon and make an end of this waiting,' Leacon said passionately. 'Get it over, one way or the other.'

I looked at his troubled face, but did not reply. When we reached the wharf again it was a relief to climb back on land. A group of ragged-looking men were being led up Oyster Street by constables armed with staves. One was protesting angrily. 'I've a job at the warehouse!'

'I've seen you begging by the churchyard. All beggars out of Portsmouth tonight!'

I looked at Leacon. 'Remember the beggars thrown out of York before the King arrived there?'

'I do.' He called over to the man in charge. 'Do you know what time the King arrives tomorrow?'

'At nine. He is riding down from Portchester, across Portsea Island and through the town gate. With Admiral Lord Lisle and all the Privy Council. He will be taken out to the ships, then spend the night at the royal tents.'

'Will the Queen be with them?' I asked.

'No women in the party, I'm told. Now sir, if you please I have to see to these rogues from the city.' Leacon took a long, deep breath, then reached out his hand. 'This is where we must part, Matthew.'

'Thank you, George. Thank you for everything.' There was a moment's silence, then I said, 'When this is over, come to London, stay with me a while.'

'I will. My good wishes to Jack.'

'Good luck, George.'

'And you.' I looked into his drawn face. He bowed, then turned and marched quickly away, leaving me with sadness in my heart. As I walked back to the inn, I forced my mind back to the information West had given me, what it meant and where it led.

* * *

BARAK LAY ON his bed, re-reading his letters from Tamasin. I pulled off my boots and sat on the side of my own bed, wondering how to tell him what I had decided.

'George Leacon sends his good wishes,' I told him. 'I have said farewell. The King will be in Portsmouth at nine tomorrow. He is going on the ships.'

'We must be gone before then,' Barak answered firmly.

'Yes, we must.'

'Did you get on the Mary Rose?'

'Yes.'

'What's it like?'

'Extraordinary. Beautiful and terrifying.'

'You saw West?'

'Yes.' I rubbed my neck. 'He was angry with me, he grabbed at me.'

'I told you it was dangerous,' he said impatiently.

'There were people near. In fact the purser interrupted us and ordered me away before I found out all I needed.'

'Did you get the name of that friend of his?'

'I asked him straight out if the other man was Warner, but he denied it. He gave me a name I have never heard of. I fear he was making it up. Jack, I am sure West knows Ellen is in the Bedlam.'

'If the story of the letter was true, why keep the man's name secret now?'

'Perhaps because they raped Ellen together.'

He lay back on the bed. 'More imagining.'

'If only that purser hadn't interrupted us—'

'Well, you did what you could. Now let's get back to London.'

'Tomorrow I am going first to Portchester Castle. I have to see the Queen. And Warner. She is not accompanying the King, it is an ideal opportunity. I am going to find out if Warner was at Rolfswood that day.'

He sat up. 'No,' he said quietly. 'You are going to let this go and come back to London.'

'What if it was Warner that betrayed me to Rich? An agent of Rich's in the Queen's household!'

'Even if that's true, you know everyone at court spies on each other. And if it's not true, you could lose Warner's friendship and patronage.'

'I owe the Queen. If one of her trusted advisers is in Richard Rich's pay—'

'You don't owe the Queen,' he answered with slow intensity. ' She owes you. She always has: you saved her life, remember? I wish you had never let her drag you back anywhere near the court.' His voice rose. 'Go to Portchester? It's mad. What if Rich is there?'

'All the privy councillors are going to the tents. But the Queen is staying behind, so her household will be too.'

'What would you say to Warner anyway?'

'Ask some hard questions.'