Saddler leaned back, folding his arms over a flat stomach. 'Let me tell you about William Pile. He was a Norfolk man, like me. We were both levied into the army for the war against the Scots, back in 1513. We were in our twenties then. William was at Flodden, that's true, but unlike me he wasn't standing on that moor as the Scotch pikemen ran down the ridge at us. William Pile's father was an estate reeve and got him a job working in the stores. He was well in the rear that day, as always. Killed the Scottish King, my arse.' He smiled coldly. 'And that's just the beginning. After the 1513 war, which got us fuck all like every war this King's made, we both stayed in the army. Sometimes we'd be with the garrison at Berwick, sometimes in Calais. Boring times mostly, hardly any action. That suited William, though. He liked to spend his days drinking and dicing.'
'So, you knew Coldiron—Pile—well?'
'Surely. Never liked the old shit, but I used to marvel at how he got away with things. We served together for years, I was promoted to whiffler, but William stayed an army clerk, no ambition beyond creaming what he could from the men's rations and cheating at cards. He'd no prospect of marrying, not with that face. Let me guess, he told you he got his injuries at Flodden.'
'That's right.'
Saddler laughed sardonically. 'This is what really happened. One evening in Caernarfon Castle William was playing cards. There was a big Devon fellow with us, six feet tall and with a vile temper when he was drunk, which they all were that night or William would have been more careful in his cheating. When the Devon man realized he'd been done out of a sovereign, he stood up, grabbed his sword and slashed William across the face.' He laughed again. 'God's nails, you should have seen the blood! They thought he would die, but stringy fellows like William are hard to kill. He recovered and came with us to France two years later on campaign.'
'I remember that war. I was a student then.'
'The campaign in '23 was a pathetic affair, the soldiers did little more than raid the countryside round Calais. Put a few French villages to the fire.' He chuckled again. 'Sent the village women running out over the muddy fields screaming, skirts held up round their big French bums.' Saddler looked up, enjoying my look of distaste.
'There was this one village, all the people ran like rabbits as we came down the road. We went in to see what we could take from the houses before we burned them. Don't look like that, master, spoil from stripping the countryside is the only money soldiers make from war. The French will take plenty if they land here. Anyway, there wasn't much in this dump to take back, just a few pigs and chickens. We were setting the houses afire when this little girl ran out of one, screaming at the top of her voice. About three she was. She'd been left behind. Well, some soldiers get soft-hearted.' Saddler shrugged. 'So we took her back to Calais with us. The company cared for her, shared rations with her. She was quite happy, we sewed her a little dress in the company colours, and a little hat with the Cross of St George on.' Saddler took a drink of beer and sniggered. 'You should have seen her, toddling about the barracks waving the little wooden sword we'd made for her. Like I said, our mascot.'
Leacon was staring at Saddler, his face bleak. I fought down my disgust at the man. He went on, 'Her name was Josephine. Jojo we called her. She learned some English from the men. Well, after a while the army was ordered to sail home, tails between our legs again. We were going to leave her behind, find someone in Calais to take her. But William Pile, your Coldiron, he said he'd take Jojo with him. He was thinking of retiring from the army and he would raise her to keep house for him. Maybe other things if she turned out pretty.' Saddler glanced at us, leering. Tom Llewellyn looked shocked. Leacon stared at Saddler as though he were the devil.
'Well, William did retire, but not in the usual way. As soon as we got back to England he stole the company's supply money and disappeared. Took Josephine with him. We were sent to Berwick afterwards and kept on short rations, the officers weren't going to put their hands in their pockets. Never heard of William again till now. He would have been hanged if he'd been caught.' Saddler crossed his arms, still smiling. 'That's the story. Did Josephine turn out pretty, by the way?'
'Pretty enough,' I answered coldly.
Saddler frowned. 'I remember that three months on short rations on the Scottish border. If you can get William Pile hanged that would be a favour to me.'
Leacon stood up and put on his helmet and gorget. Llewellyn followed. 'Thank you, Master Saddler,' Leacon said stiffly. 'Master Shardlake and I have someone to meet and then I must go back to camp. We are grateful for your help.'
Saddler raised his glass and smiled at me. 'Goodbye, sir. Remember me to Madame Josephine.'
OUTSIDE the street seemed more crowded and noisy than ever.
'I'll walk to the Godshouse with you,' Leacon said. 'You may need my authority to get in. I don't have to go back to camp just yet, I just had to get away from Saddler.'
'I understand.'
'What did you make of his story?'
'It fits with what I know of Coldiron.' I smiled grimly. 'I have a hold over him now. I plan to kick him out, but keep Josephine on if she wishes to stay.'
'How does he treat her?'
'Badly. But she obeys every word he says. She believes herself his daughter.'
Leacon looked doubtful. 'Then she may not want to part from him.'
I smiled wryly. 'A meddler may make a worse muddle, eh?'
'That he may,' Barak agreed pointedly. Then he scratched his head fiercely. 'I think I've got lice.'
I shuddered. 'And I can feel fleas. That tavern must be full of them.'
Leacon smiled. 'You should get your hair cut, Jack.'
'Everyone in camp has lice,' Llewellyn added gloomily. 'And I've lost my comb.'
'You're not the only one,' Leacon said. 'I wish you men would remember to keep track of your things.'
Barak looked out over the stinking Camber. Beyond, the masts of the ships moored in the Solent were just visible. 'The foul humours of this place will bring disease before long.'
'Well,' Leacon said firmly, 'here we must stay till the French come.' He turned to Llewellyn. 'Would you go back to camp? Tell Sir Franklin I will return soon.'
'Yes, sir.'
I said to Barak, 'Go back with him, Jack, take the horses and wait for me in camp. I think it would be best if I spoke with Master West alone.'
'All right,' he agreed reluctantly. He and Llewellyn walked back to the tavern. Leacon and I continued down Oyster Street. Leacon said quietly, 'Saddler was on the Scottish campaign last year, he told me about all the plate and cloth he took from Edinburgh. But he is right, soldiers have always seen spoil as the legitimate fruit of war, waited for the cry of 'Havoc!' Men like Saddler though—nothing they see affects them, they have hearts like stones. Thank God I only have one or two like that under my command, like Sulyard, who insulted you. When Saddler talked about those villagers running across the fields—' He broke off.
'It reminded you of the woman by the roadside in France with the dead baby?'
His blue eyes had that staring look again. 'The strange thing is I didn't think much of it at the time. I saw so many things. But afterwards she and that dead baby would suddenly jump into my mind's eye. Let us change the subject,' he said wearily. 'It does me no good to dwell on it.'
'What do you know of Master West? Thank you for finding him so quickly, by the way.'
'We in the army are making it our business to find out about the ships' officers; we may be serving under them.' He looked at me seriously. 'What is this about, Matthew?'
I hesitated. 'A private matter. Legal.'
'Well, I am told West is an experienced officer, stern but fair with those under him. When the French come he will have the hardest test of his life before him.' Leacon looked at me. 'Is this a question affecting his abilities as an officer? If it is, I should know.'
'No, George, it is not.'
Leacon nodded, relieved.
WE HAD RETURNED to the open area in front of the Square Tower. We walked on to a gatehouse giving entrance to the walled Godshouse. A cart full of crates of cackling geese was going in, watched by soldiers with halberds who stood guard. Leacon walked across to them.
'Is the meeting of ships' officers still going on?' he asked one.
