intervals were of stone. Men were still working on the walls, some hanging by ropes from the top, piling up new layers of mud and stabilizing them with hurdles and wooden planks. The stone bastion enclosing the main gate was massive, its circular top bristling with cannon. Soldiers patrolled the fighting platform running along the top. Close to, Portsmouth seemed more like a hurriedly erected castle than a town.
We joined the end of a long queue of carts waiting to enter the gate, which stood on a little rise, approached by a bridge across the moat. This town was, indeed, a fortress.
'This earth wall is a far cry from the walls of York,' I said to Barak.
'It's part of the fortifications Lord Cromwell built everywhere along the coasts in '39, when it seemed the French and Spanish might attack together to bring us back under the Pope. They were cobbled together in a hurry. I know that it kept him awake at nights,' he added sadly.
'By heaven, this place stinks,' Hobbey said. He was right, a cesspit smell hung heavy in the air. He looked across to the tents. 'It's the soldiers, using the mill pond as a sewer. Pigs.'
'Where the fuck else are they supposed to go?' Barak muttered under his breath. I thought, he is right; the ordure had nowhere to go in the flat marshy land around the city. The foul odours would only get worse as time passed, threatening disease.
We all turned at the sound of a loud, angry animal bellow. Behind us a heavy wagon drawn by four great horses had pulled up. The sound came from an enormous, muscular bull in a heavy iron cage.
'There's going to be a bull-baiting,' I said to Barak.
'With dogs probably, for the soldiers.'
Looking ahead, we saw that inside the gate was a complicated enclosed barbican, and that a cart loaded with barrels had got itself stuck. More carts pulled up behind us.
'We'll be here for ever,' Dyrick said impatiently.
'Master Shardlake!' I turned as I heard my name called. A young man was running across from the tents. I smiled as I recognized Carswell, the recruit in Leacon's company who hoped to be a playwright. His mobile, humorous face was as tanned as leather now. He bowed to our company. 'You have come to Portsmouth then, sir?'
'Ay, on business. We have just seen the ships in the harbour. We wondered if you might be on one of them.'
Carswell shook his head. 'We haven't been out on a ship yet. We've been stuck in camp. Captain Leacon's around. I can take you to him, I am sure he would be glad to see you. You'll be a while here,' he added, casting an experienced eye at the men struggling with the cart inside the gate.
The bull gave another angry bellow, rocking its cage. One of our servant's horses reared and plunged, the man desperately trying to control it. People in the crowd laughed. 'Your horses will be happier if they wait beside the road till that bull is past,' Carswell observed.
Hobbey nodded, dismounted, and led his horse out of the queue. The rest of us followed, leaving a servant to keep our place. 'I think Carswell here is right,' I told Hobbey. 'I will go and see my friend, just for a few minutes. We are still in good time for our meeting with Sir Quintin.'
'A few minutes only, sir, please.'
Barak and I walked over to the tents with Carswell. This was a chance to see Leacon, ask him about Philip West. I had decided I was going to talk to him if I could.
'This place stinks, doesn't it?' Carswell observed.
'Worse than the Thames banks,' Barak agreed.
Carswell looked at me. 'You'll remember what you said about helping me, sir? When you get back to London?'
I smiled. 'I had not forgotten.'
'I yearn to be home—I hate this waiting, sitting amid this stench like pigs in a sty. We're not allowed into town without passes, and I hear the sailors must stay on the ships. They fear we might fight, or disturb all those merchants negotiating with each other to get the best price for our poor rations. But I am told much of a soldier's life is spent in waiting.'
'So you haven't been on a ship yet?' Barak asked.
'No.' For once Carswell's tone was serious. 'One of our men near fainted when he saw the ships close to— many of us had never seen the sea.' He laughed uneasily. 'Imagine trying to stage that sight in a play. The warships and those galleasses. They're manned by criminals and beggars, not strong enough for such work. Some collapse and die, bodies are brought ashore in the evenings.' His voice took on its jesting note again. 'Do you think, sir, if I brought you before our commander the Earl of Suffolk in your lawyer's robes, you might argue a case for me to leave the army? Say the prospect of danger does not agree with me?'
I laughed. 'Alas, Carswell, the powers of lawyers do not extend so far.'
We were in among the tents now, stepping over guy ropes. Some of the soldiers from the company waved or shouted greetings. Sulyard, sitting outside his tent carving something on his knife handle, gave me a nasty stare. Carswell halted before a large tent, the cross of St George on a little pole at the top. Leacon had just stepped out. 'Captain, sir,' Carswell called. 'A visitor.'
Leacon wore a round helmet, half-armour over his surcoat, his sword at his waist. The tent flap opened and I saw the Welsh boy Tom Llewellyn carrying a document case. Leacon's expression had been anxious, but his face relaxed into a smile as he saw us.
'Master Shardlake! Jack Barak!'
'We have come to Portsmouth on business. There is a hold-up at the gates, young Carswell saw us and brought us over.'
'Good! How is your wife, Jack?'
'Very well, according to her last letter.'
'George,' I said, 'there is something I would speak with you about.'
'About your steward who said he was at Flodden? I have some news there.'
'Have you? I would like to hear it. And George, there is someone else I seek, who may be in Portsmouth. It is important. A man called Philip West, who I believe is an officer on the King's ships.'
'Then he'll be here. Did you hear Lord Lisle's ships had just arrived? There was a skirmish near the Channel Islands. But listen, I must leave now, there is a meeting of the captains in the town: I have to join Sir Franklin Giffard there.' He turned to Llewellyn. 'I am taking young Tom here with me: many of the captains are from Wales and he knows some Welsh from his father.' He raised his eyebrows. 'Diplomacy.' The boy smiled nervously. 'Could you meet me in town later?' Leacon asked. 'Perhaps this afternoon.'
'Certainly. We have a meeting at ten, but after that will be free.'
'The Red Lion tavern for lunch then, say at twelve?'
'I should be pleased.'
'I will arrange for one of the officers I am meeting to stay behind to talk to you. He has an interesting tale to tell about good Master Coldiron.'
'What news of your company? How fare you, Llewellyn?'
'Well, sir. Though those ships fair affrighted us when we saw them.'
'Ay,' Leacon agreed. 'If the men are to go on them, they need to accustom themselves to being at sea. But those in charge keep arguing how best to use us, and nothing is done, for all they tell me how they value us as principal archers.' He sighed heavily. 'Come, will you walk with me back to the road?'
We made our way through the rows of tents. 'What news of the French?' I asked quietly.
He drew a little ahead of Llewellyn. 'Bad. Over two hundred ships gathering at the French ports, packed with thirty thousand soldiers. Lord Lisle encountered a host of their galleys off the Channel Islands last week. The weather turned bad, though, and there was no real action. We are going to need every man if they land here.' He looked at me seriously. 'Those galleys of theirs are large and fast, much superior to our galleasses, and rowed by slaves experienced in Mediterranean warfare. They have two dozen.' He gave me a sombre look. 'You know how many such galleys we have?' I shook my head. 'One.'
'When might they come?'
'A week, perhaps two. Much will depend on the weather, as always at sea.'
I was eager to talk about Coldiron, but saw Leacon was keen to move on. We were beyond the tents now. Then Barak pointed to where the men were practising at the butts and laughed. 'Look at that!'
