'I act only within the confines of the law,' I answered steadily.
'So must all men,' Rich answered.
'I take it you have been seeing Sir Quintin Priddis?' Paulet asked.
'We have, sir.'
'Quintin Priddis, eh?' Rich's grey eyes widened with curiosity.
'He is the feodary of Hampshire,' Paulet said.
'I knew Sir Quintin when I was studying for the Bar thirty years ago. He gave me some interesting insights about the use of the law. Well, it is a small world at the top. And everyone of importance is heading for Portsmouth now. You should not be so astonished to see me, Master Shardlake.'
'I knew you were coming, Sir Richard. You passed us on the road last week.'
'I did not see you.'
'I was travelling with a company of soldiers.'
'Soldiers, eh? Well, I am in charge of finance for supplying the army, as I was in France last year. Making sure the merchants do not cheat the King.' He snuggled his pointed little chin into his fur collar, a courtier enjoying the display of power. 'Governor Paulet has been seeking my advice on security matters,' he went on. 'There is fighting between the soldiers and sailors who find their way to the city every night. If we could hang a few more —'
'We're short enough of men,' Paulet answered curtly. 'We can't go hanging the ones we've got. I'll speak to the officers again. Now, Sir Richard, the mayor is waiting within—'
'A moment, Sir William,' Rich said softly. 'I would have a brief word with my friend Shardlake.' He waved a hand at our party. 'The rest of you, go.' Barak hesitated, and Rich snapped, 'You too, Jack Barak. Always nosing around, ever since you served Lord Cromwell that lost his head.' Barak turned reluctantly and joined the others at the entrance.
'Now, Matthew Shardlake.' Rich stood close, I saw the heavy gold links of his chain, the smoothness of his narrow cheeks, smelt garlic on his breath. 'Listen to me, well and carefully. It is time for you to complete your business and hasten back to London. The King and Queen are at Godalming, they will be here in the middle of next week. My intelligence is that the King does not know you are Queen Catherine's friend. And if he did, and saw you here, he might be displeased with you again.' He leaned forward, poked my chest with a narrow finger. 'Time to be gone.'
'Sir Richard,' I asked quietly, 'why does it matter to you where I am or what I do?'
Rich inclined his head and smiled. 'Because I do not like you. I do not like the sight of your bent back or your long nose or your busy little eyes with their censorious look. And I am a member of his majesty's Privy Council, so when I say it is time for you to go, you go.' He turned away, his long robe billowing as he walked back to where Paulet stood watching inside the doorway. I went back to the others, my stomach churning. Dyrick looked at me curiously.
'Was that Sir Richard Rich?'
'It was.'
Dyrick laughed. 'I think he does not love you, Brother.'
'No,' I answered quietly. 'No, he does not.'
THE OSTLER brought the horses round. There was little space to mount in the crowded street; one of the horses almost backed into a water carrier bent double under his huge conical basket.
'What did that evil little arsehole want?' Barak whispered.
'Not now. I'll tell you when we're on our own.'
Hobbey looked at David and Hugh. 'We shall ride down to the bottom of Oyster Street. We should be able to see the big ships anchored at Spithead from there. But then we will leave Master Shardlake to meet his friend and go home.'
'Could we not ride out to South Sea?' David asked. 'Look at the new castle?' There was still a sadness in his face; I thought, he seeks distraction.
'I have preparations to make for the hunt. And I want you boys back home. Apart from anything else, these scabby crowds will be alive with fleas.'
I wondered if the boys would argue further, but Hugh merely shrugged. David looked surly.
We rode on down the High Street, past the church, a solid Norman building with heavy buttresses. At a little distance I saw the walls of what looked like a former monastic house; tall, narrow buildings were visible over the wall, and the round tower of a large church.
'That is the old Godshouse,' Hobbey said. 'It was a monastic hospital, and lodging for travellers. It is being used as a meeting place now, and a storehouse for military equipment. We must turn here.'
We had halted in a broad space where several streets met. Opposite us the walls ended at a large square tower. Bronze and iron cannon pointed out to sea, the sun glinting on the bronze barrels. Some soldiers were drilling on a wide platform. Hugh and David looked at them with keen admiration. We turned right into a paved street fronting a little tidal bay almost enclosed by a low, semi-circular spit of land. 'That little harbour is the Camber,' Hobbey said. 'God's death, it smells foul today.'
'The marshy spit is the Point,' Hugh added.
'If we ride down to the other end we can see the ships across the Point,' Hobbey said. 'Come, let us get on.'
It took only a few minutes to ride down Oyster Street. The town wall continued along the eastern half of the spit opposite us, ending in a high round tower topped with more heavy cannon. Oyster Street was full of shops and taverns. Labourers stood outside, drinking beer. We rode carefully past soldiers and sailors, carters and labourers, and numerous merchants engaged in busy argument. At the far end of the street the circular spit of land ended at a narrow opening to the sea. Opposite the opening, at the end of Oyster Street, a broad stone jetty stood surrounded by warehouses. Goods were being carried in constantly from carts that pulled up outside, while other men brought out supplies and loaded them onto little supply boats.
We rode to the jetty, passing a group of well-dressed merchants disputing the price of biscuit with an official. Hugh's gaze was drawn by two labourers carrying a long, slightly curved box carefully to the jetty.
'A longbow box,' he said wistfully.
WE HALTED a little beyond the jetty, where a walkway ran under the town walls. From here we could see across the narrow harbour entrance to the Gosport shore. There several more forts stood, mightily armed with cannon.
Hugh waved an arm across the wide vista. 'See, Master Shardlake, the harbour is protected on all sides by guns, from the Round Tower over to the Gosport forts.'
But my attention had been drawn by a sight even more extraordinary than we had seen in Portsmouth Haven—the forest of high masts in the Solent. Perhaps forty ships stood at anchor, varying in size from enormous to a third the size of the ones we had seen in the Haven. The upper parts of the bigger ships were brightly painted with shields and other emblems, and their decks all bristled with cannon. One large ship was furling its giant sails; a drumbeat sounded across the water as men laboured at the rigging.
Then, as we watched, an extraordinary vessel sped up the Solent towards them. Near two hundred feet long, it had only one mast. The sail was furled, and it was propelled by two dozen giant oars on each side. A large cannon was mounted at the front, and there was an awning at the back, decorated in cloth of gold that sparkled in the sun. There an overseer stood, beating time on a drum. I saw the heads of the rowers moving rapidly to and fro.
'Jesu, what is that?' Dyrick asked, his voice hushed for once.
'I heard the King had built a great galley,' Hobbey answered. 'It is called the
I thought, according to Leacon the French have two dozen.
'Beautiful,' Hugh said quietly. The huge galley changed course, moving past the moored warships towards the mouth of the harbour, leaving a long ribbon of churning white wake.
'There, Shardlake,' Dyrick said. 'Something to tell your friends in London when you get home. Maybe the sight will be some compensation when you see my bill of costs!'
