'—but unfortunately I must leave. There is much to do at the mill. I am a man short, one of my workers was gored to death by a bull last week.'
'How sad.'
'The fool forgot to shut a gate and it went after him.' He smiled thinly. 'Bulls, fires, these rural parts can be dangerous places.'
I BREAKFASTED at the inn. I received sour glances from the old woman who had introduced me to Wilf, and wondered if she had become suspicious of my close questioning of him and told his sons. I fetched Oddleg from the stables and rode out of Rolfswood, which was stirring into life on another fine summer's morning. I patted the horse. 'Back to Hampshire, good beast,' I said, settling myself in the saddle. And soon, I thought, to Portsmouth.
Chapter Twenty-three
BY THE TIME I rode once more through the gate of Hoyland Priory it was around four o'clock, the shadows lengthening. All was peaceful. A gardener was working on Abigail's flower beds. Insects buzzed and a woodpecker tapped somewhere in the woods. Two peacocks strutted across the lawn, watched by Lamkin as he sprawled under a tree. I rode round the side of the house, Oddleg quickening his pace at the prospect of returning to the stables.
I gave the ostler instructions to ensure the horse was properly washed down and combed. He was surly and uncommunicative like all the Hobbey servants. As I left the stables, a door in the rear wall of the enclosure opened and the huntsman Avery entered. He wore a green jerkin, green scoggers on his legs and even a green cap above his thin, deeply tanned features. He bowed. I walked across to him.
'Only—what—four days till your hunt?' I asked.
'It is.' Barking sounded from the kennels; the dogs had heard his footsteps. He smiled tiredly. 'Feeding time. They always hear me.'
'You must be busy now.'
'Ay. The dogs cause much labour—feeding them, keeping them clean, walking them twice a day. And more work in the park, making ready for the hunt. Master Hobbey wants everything just right.'
'So some in the village will work for him.' Avery smiled wryly and shrugged.
'How big is the park?' I asked.
'Around a mile each way. It was a deer park under the nuns, I believe. They used to lease it out to local gentry. But it has been allowed to deteriorate these last few years.'
'I wonder why Master Hobbey did not use it before now.'
'Well, sir, that is really his business.' A cautious note entered Avery's voice. Yes, I thought, he has been warned against me by the family.
'You are right, I apologize. But tell me, what will happen on the day of the hunt?'
'The guests and members of the family will take places along a prearranged route and the stag will be driven towards them. I saw the stag again yesterday. A magnificent beast.'
'And whoever brings it down will be entitled to the heartstone?'
'That's right.'
'Might it be Master Hugh again, I wonder?'
'It might be him, or one of the guests. I do not know how good shots they are. Or Master David, he is a fine shot, though he cannot seem to learn that you must keep quiet and hidden when you are tracking.'
'Is that why you are wearing green? To blend in with the wood?'
'It is. All the hunters will wear green or brown.'
'Do you travel the country organizing hunts, Master Avery?'
'I do now. I was in charge of a monastery hunting park until eight years ago. Then it was put down, the land sold off in parcels.'
'Which house?'
'Lewes Priory, over in Sussex.'
'Really? Lewes? The engineers who demolished Lewes for Lord Cromwell also took down a monastic house I had—connections with—just afterwards.'
Avery shook his head sadly. 'I watched Lewes come down in a great roar and cloud of dust. A terrible sight. Did you see this other place come down?'
'No. I did not wait for that.' I sighed, remembering.
Avery hesitated, then said, 'I will be glad to leave this place after the hunt. All the bad feeling with the village, the family hissing round each other like snakes. You are here to look out for Master Hugh's welfare?'
'Yes. Yes, I am.'
'He is the best of them. A fine lad.' Perhaps thinking he had said too much, Avery bowed quickly and walked away to his dogs.
I WALKED thoughtfully past the outhouses to Barak's room.
'Master Shardlake.' I turned at a sudden voice behind me. Fulstowe had just emerged from the laundry building.
'You startled me, master steward.'
He gave his deferential smile. 'I am sorry. I saw you through the open doorway. You have just returned?'
'Yes.'
'Is there anything you need?'
'Only a wash and a rest.'
'I will arrange for hot water to be sent to your room. Some more letters have arrived for you, Barak has them.'
'Thank you. Is everyone in the house well?'
'Yes. We have had a quiet time.' Fulstowe's eyes quested over my face. 'Was your business in Sussex successful, sir?'
'It was—complicated.'
'We shall be leaving for Portsmouth early tomorrow, if that is convenient.'
'You are coming with us?'
'Yes. Master Hugh and Master David too. They are determined to see the fleet.' He smiled. 'Boys will be boys.'
'Near grown men now.'
He stroked his neat blond beard. 'Yes, indeed.'
'And now I will have a word with my clerk before I go in, see my letters.'
Fulstowe looked along the row of outhouses. 'I believe Barak is in his room.'
I smiled. 'You seem to know everyone's movements, master steward.'
'That is my job, sir.' He bowed and left me.
I KNOCKED on Barak's door. He answered at once. 'Good, you're back.'
I looked at him curiously. 'Why are you skulking indoors on a fine afternoon?'
'I'm tired of that arsehole steward and his minions watching my every move. Jesu, you're dusty.'
'Let me sit down.' I sat on the straw bed. Two letters addressed to me lay there, one from Warner and one from Guy. 'Any news of Tamasin?'
'She wrote again the day we arrived.' He leaned against the door and pulled a letter from his shirt. 'Guy says she still comes along well. She is still determined the child is a girl. I miss her.'
'I know. Next week we shall be home.'
'I pray we are.'
