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.
'I was a fine archer in my youth,' Dyrick said complacently. 'Now I am teaching my son. Though I thank God he is only ten, too young to be called up.'
'Master Shardlake will not want to see you boys practising that dangerous sport,' Abigail said. 'One of the servants will end with an arrow through his body one of these days.'
Hugh turned cold eyes on her. 'Our only risk of being shot, good mistress, is if the French land. They say they have over two hundred ships.'
Hobbey shook his head. 'All these rumours. A hundred, two hundred. What a tumult. Three thousand men have been levied in north Hampshire and sent to Portsmouth. Hoyland village, like all the coastal villages, is exempt from recruitment, with the men kept in the militia ready to march to the coast when the beacons are lit.'
'They are recruiting heavily in London,' Dyrick said.
'I accompanied our local magistrate on a review of the village men. For all that some of them are ruffians, they are stout fellows who will make good fighting men.' Hobbey's face took on a preening expression. 'As lord of the manor I have had to supply them with harness. Fortunately the nuns had a store of old pikes and jacks, even a few rusty helmets, to meet the manor's military obligations.'
There was silence round the table for a moment. I thought of Leacon's men repairing the musty old jacks they would have to fight in. Hobbey looked at me, eyes glinting sharp in the candlelight. 'I believe you are personally acquainted with the Queen, Master Shardlake.'
'I have that privilege,' I answered carefully. 'I knew her majesty when she was still Lady Latimer.'
Hobbey spread his hands, smiling coldly. 'I, alas, have the patronage of no high personages. I have risen only to be a country gentleman.'
'All credit to you for that, sir,' Dyrick said. 'And for your fine house.'
'These smaller religious houses can be turned to fine residences. The only disadvantage is that this one was also used as Hoyland parish church, so we have to go to the next parish on Sundays.'
'With all the oafs from the village,' Abigail added tartly.
'And our status means we need to go each Sunday,' Hobbey added in a weary tone. Clearly, I thought, this is no religious family.
'How many nuns were here, Nicholas?' Dyrick asked.
'Only five. This was a subsidiary house of Wherwell Abbey, in the west of the county. I have a picture of the last abbess but one in my study, I will show you tomorrow.'
'Her face all wrapped up so tight in her wimple,' Abigail said with a shudder.
'They used to send disobedient nuns here,' David said. 'Ones that had had monks' hands at those wimples, and elsewhere—'
'David, fie, for shame,' his father said. But he spoke mildly, giving his son an indulgent look.
Hugh said quietly, 'Some nights, sitting here, I seem to hear faint echoes of their prayers and psalms. Just as we still faintly smell the incense.'
'They deserve no sympathy,' Hobbey said flatly. 'They lived as parasites on the rents from their woodland.' I thought, as you do now.
'They would be able to make fine profits today,' Dyrick said. 'The price wood is fetching.'
'Yes. This is the time to sell, while the war is on.'
'There will be good profits from your land and Master Hugh's too,' I observed.
Dyrick raised his eyebrows at me. 'Master Hobbey is laying up a fine store of money for Hugh.'
'You are welcome to see my accounts,' Hobbey said.
'Thank you,' I answered neutrally, knowing those could be doctored.
'For when I am twenty-one, a grown man,' Hugh said quietly, then laughed, a bitter little sound. Abigail sighed deeply. I thought, that woman is wound so tight she could explode.
Hobbey passed the wine around. Dyrick placed his hand over his cup. 'I will have no more, thank you,' he said. 'I prefer to keep my mind sharp.' He looked at me meaningfully.
'What happened to the nuns when they left?' I asked.
'They got good pensions.'
'Old Ursula was one of the nuns' servants,' Abigail said. 'She wishes they were back, you can see it in her.'
'We needed someone who knew the place,' Hobbey said, an impatient note entering his voice.
'She looks at me insolently. And those other servants, they're all from the village. They hate us, they'll murder us in our beds one night.'
'Oh, Abigail,' Hobbey said, 'these fears and fantasies of yours.'
The servants came in again, carrying trays of custards and comfits. As we ate I noticed something odd about the light. The candles seemed to be flickering and dimming. Then I realized that huge numbers of moths were flittering round them, as they had been at the campfire the night before. They caught their poor wings in the flames and fell and died, more moths at once taking their place. 'Some fool servant has left a window open,' Abigail said.
Hobbey looked at the candles curiously. 'I have never seen so many moths as this summer. It must be to do with the strange weather we had in June.'
Dyrick looked at Hobbey, then me. 'Well, Master Hobbey, a delightful meal. But perhaps now we should discuss the business that brought us here.'
'Yes,' Hobbey agreed. 'Abigail, boys, perhaps you could leave us.'
'Should not Hugh stay?' I asked.
'No,' Dyrick answered firmly. 'He is a boy and this is men's business. You will have ample chance to talk to him tomorrow.'
I looked at Hugh. His face was impassive as he rose and accompanied Abigail and David from the hall. As the door closed I heard Abigail calling out for Lamkin. Fulstowe remained where he was behind his master, still as a soldier on guard. 'I would like Ambrose to stay,' Hobbey said. 'He manages my business down here.'
'Certainly,' I agreed.
Hobbey leaned back in his chair. 'Well, Master Shardlake. This is a strange business. Upsetting for my family. My wife has had delicate health ever since poor Emma died.'
'I am sorry.'
'She always wanted a daughter.' But Hugh, I thought, has no affection for her with his coldly formal manner, addressing her as 'Mistress'. And David had treated his mother like dirt.
'And just now she is anxious about the hunt,' Hobbey added in a lighter tone. 'We are having a hunt on my land, Master Shardlake. It will be an occasion, the first in my new deer park.' Pride had entered his quiet voice, as when he showed me the tapestries. 'It was to be this week but we have postponed it to next Monday to allow this business to be dealt with.' He shook his head. 'And all because Michael Calfhill chose to burst in on us out of the blue last spring.'
'May I ask what happened then? Informally, for now?'
Hobbey looked at Dyrick, who nodded. 'It is simply told,' Hobbey said. 'One afternoon in April the boys were at the butts—they think of nothing but their bows since this war began. I was in my study when a servant ran in and said a strange man was outside, shouting at Hugh. I called for Ambrose and we went out. I did not recognize Calfhill at first, it was five years since he worked for me. He was raving, shouting at Hugh that he must come away with him. He said he loved him better than anyone else in the world.' He inclined his head, looking at me
