Heartstone

Hugh and David, in defiance of Hobbey's orders, had dismounted and joined the archers. Hugh was bending to a longbow which he must have borrowed, and as I watched he sent an arrow flying. It hit the oyster shell, shattering it into a dozen pieces. The soldiers clapped. I saw Sulyard in the group, his enemy Pygeon standing at a little distance. A man at the other end of the range hurried up to the butts and fixed another oyster shell to the centre.

'Look at that fellow, sir,' Llewellyn said admiringly to Leacon.

Hugh handed the bow to David. David's arrow just missed the oyster shell and he scowled.

'Who are those lads?' Leacon asked curiously.

'My host's son and his ward.' I saw Hobbey and Dyrick talking agitatedly to Snodin the whiffler, who stood with hands on hips, an aggressive expression on his red face. Hugh bent to the bow again as we walked across to Hobbey and Dyrick.

'Get them away from there!' Hobbey was shouting to Snodin, more angry and agitated than I had ever seen him. 'Tell your men to stop their practice now.'

'But they have been ordered to practise,' Snodin replied in his deep voice, 'by Sir Franklin Giffard himself.' He waved a meaty hand at Leacon as we came up. 'Here, talk to Master Petty-Captain if you like.'

Leacon gave Hobbey and Dyrick a curt nod, then watched as Hugh sent another arrow flying to the oyster shell. Again he broke it. Hobbey grabbed Leacon's arm. 'Are you the captain of this rabble? Get my boys away from those butts. They are defying my explicit orders—'

Leacon pushed Hobbey's arm away. 'I do not care for your manners, sir,' he said sharply. 'Boys they may be, but few enough adults could pull a longbow like that, let alone shoot so well. They must be very well practised.'

'They'd make good recruits,' Snodin said maliciously. 'Especially the taller lad.'

'You insolent dog,' Hobbey snapped.

Dyrick spoke up. 'Captain Leacon, we have an appointment in the city with the feodary of Hampshire. We shall be late.' He looked over to the gates. The obstruction had been cleared and the carts were going slowly in. The bull's cage was just entering.

'I think you had better call Hugh and David over,' I said quietly to Leacon.

'For you, Master Shardlake, certainly. You keep a civil tongue in your head.' He called to the archers. 'Cease firing! You two young fellows, over here!'

Reluctantly, Hugh handed the bow back to its owner, and he and David walked over to us. Leacon smiled at them. 'Well done, lads. Fine shooting.' He looked at Hugh. 'You hit the mark twice in succession, young fellow.'

'We practise every day.' Hugh was staring at Leacon with something like awe. 'Sir, will we repel the French?'

'You won't!' Hobbey, still angry, grabbed him by the shoulder. David flinched and backed away, a frightened expression on his face. So he had not forgotten about yesterday after all.

Hugh turned on Hobbey, his face suddenly red with fury. 'Let me go!' For a second I thought he might lash out.

'Hugh,' I said quietly.

To my relief, Hugh brushed off Hobbey's arm and walked back to the horses. 'Till later,' I said to Leacon. 'I am sorry about that.'

He nodded. 'Back to practice, Goddams,' he called to the soldiers. We remounted and rode up to the gates; Leacon and Llewellyn had already passed through. Once again we were asked our business by the soldiers on guard before we were allowed through. As we rode through the barbican into the sunlight, I heard the steady beat of drums from within.

Chapter Twenty-six

WITHIN THE WALLS, Portsmouth reminded me even more of the interior of a castle. The town was surrounded on all sides by the earth walls, sloping gently down on the inner side, where turf had been laid to stabilize the earth. Much of the enclosed area was given over to market gardens, the town itself being surprisingly small. The street facing us was the only one wholly built up with shops and cottages, the better ones with jutting upper storeys. I saw only one church, down towards the seafront, with another signal lantern on top of its square tower.

'This is the High Street,' Hobbey said. 'We are meeting Master Priddis at the new Guildhall halfway down.'

The street was unpaved, dusty from all the traffic, the air full of the heavy, cloying smell of brewing. We rode past tired-looking labourers, sunburnt sailors in woollen smocks with bare feet, soldiers in their round helmets who must have obtained passes into the town. A well-dressed merchant, a fine lace collar on his shirt, rode along with a pomander held to his nose, a clerk riding alongside calling out figures from a list. Like many others the merchant kept a hand on the purse at his belt.

People were haggling loudly at the open shopfronts. I heard a remarkable babel of tongues among the passers-by: Welsh, Spanish, Flemish. At every corner a little group of soldiers, in half-armour and carrying halberds, stood watching all who passed. I remembered the corner boys. The town crier, resplendent in his red uniform, passed up and down ringing a bell, shouting, 'All women who cannot prove residence by tomorrow will be removed as prostitutes!' A drunk staggered into the road, swigging from a pigskin gourd. 'Join King Harry's navy!' he shouted. 'Six and sixpence a month and all the beer you can drink!' He tottered towards Feaveryear, who pulled his horse aside. 'Godless creature,' he muttered angrily.

'Don't you like a drink now and then, Feaveryear?' Barak asked teasingly.

'My vicar says to keep out of taverns.'

'Sounds like my wife.'

'Hugh and David put up a remarkable show back there,' I said to Feaveryear.

'I envy Master Hugh his prowess.' The little clerk sighed.

'I would not envy him too much. I think his life is no bed of roses.'

Feaveryear stared at me. 'No, sir. You are wrong. Hugh has been brought up well. He is strong, skilled and learned. A true gentleman. It is as my master says; you have no cause against this family.' He spurred his horse and pulled ahead.

* * *

THE GUILDHALL was a large, brightly painted wooden building of three storeys. An ostler took our horses to some stables behind. Hobbey told David to wait outside with the servants until we returned, warning them sternly to stay out of the taverns.

'I suppose you want Barak with you,' Dyrick said.

'Yes, Brother, I do.'

Dyrick shrugged. 'Come then, Sam.'

We stepped into a large central hall. A wooden staircase rose to an upper floor. People passed busily to and fro, royal officials and townsmen in their guild uniforms. Hobbey accosted a harassed looking clerk and asked for Sir Quintin Priddis.

'He's upstairs, sir. In the room facing the staircase. Are you the gentlemen come to see him? I fear you are a little late.'

Hobbey rounded on Hugh. 'That business at the butts! Gentlemen do not keep each other waiting.' Hugh shrugged.

We walked upstairs. Barak looked round disparagingly. 'A wooden Guildhall?'

'There can't be more than a few hundred living here normally. The townsfolk must feel swamped.'

We knocked on the door the clerk had indicated. A cultivated voice bade us enter. Inside was a meeting room, sparsely decorated and dominated by a large oaken table at which two men sat, a neat stack of papers before them. The younger wore a lawyer's robe; he was a little over forty, his dark hair worn long, his square face coldly handsome. The elder was in his sixties; grey-haired, wearing a brown robe. He sat crouched, one shoulder much higher than the other, and for a moment I thought Sir Quintin Priddis was another hunchback. Then I saw that