Heartstone (90 page)

‘Home,' Barak said. ‘Home at last. To see my son born.' I looked at him, noticing the paunch he had begun to carry in London was gone. He followed my gaze. ‘Soon have the weight back on,' he said cheerfully. ‘Rest and some good beer, that'll do it.'

Yet there was a delay. We passed the turning for Rolfswood, and I had looked up the road to Sussex between the steep banks. Then a couple of miles further on we found three soldiers standing across the road, blocking it. They told us that up the road a bridge had collapsed and was being repaired. It was late in the afternoon, and the soldiers told us we would have to find somewhere to stay for the night.

Barak was angry. ‘Isn't there any way we can get past? There's only two of us and my wife in London has a baby due soon.'

‘Nobody goes across till the repair's completed. There are soldiers and supplies waiting to go to Portsmouth.'

Barak looked ready to argue, but I said, ‘Let us make a virtue of necessity, Jack, and go to Rolfswood.'

He turned away from the soldier's stare. ‘Come on, then,' he muttered, waiting till we were out of their hearing to follow the comment with a string of oaths.

ROLFSWOOD was quiet again, peaceful in the summer evening. We passed Buttress's house. ‘What will you do about that rogue?' Barak asked.

‘As with Priddis, I doubt there is anything I can do. If I try to raise the issue of whether he and Priddis got together to forge Ellen's signature, it just opens up the story of the rape. And I do not think that would be in anyone's interest now.'

‘At least Rich has had his wings clipped.'

‘A little. And we can leave West's mother to believe her son died a hero.'

‘I wonder what the inquest on poor Master Fettiplace will decide.'

‘Murder by persons unknown, I am sure. Let us leave it there.'

We rode on to the inn, where we found a place for the night. We ate dinner, then I left Barak alone, for I had a visit to make.

THE VICARAGE looked as tumbledown as ever, the gnarled cherry tree in full leaf in the unkempt garden. Reverend Seckford answered my knock. He looked sober for once, though there was a beer stain on his surplice. He invited me in. I told him the whole story, about West and Ellen, and David and Emma, and the men I had seen die on the
Mary Rose
.

It was dark by the time I concluded; Seckford had lit candles in his parlour. He had prevailed on me to share a jug of beer; I had drunk one mug to his three. When I finished the story he sat with bowed head, plump hands trembling on his lap. Then he looked up. ‘This King has had three wars against France, and lost all of them. All for his own glory. You know, the Church has a doctrine called just war. St Thomas Aquinas wrote on it, though the doctrine is much older than that. A State going to war must have tried all other options, must have justice on its side and have an honourable purpose in mind. None of Henry's wars has been like that. Though he claims to be God's representative on earth.'

‘Which wars do have justice on their side, Master Seckford?'

He raised his cup to his lips with a shaking hand. ‘Some, perhaps. But not this King's.' He spoke with sudden anger. ‘Blame him, blame him for the men dead on the
Mary Rose
, the soldiers and the women and children in France. And even for Philip West, may his sins be forgiven.'

‘I keep seeing my friend's face, all the other soldiers, I see them crashing into the water. Over and again.' I smiled wryly. ‘A woman I admire greatly tells me to seek refuge in prayer.'

‘You should.'

I burst out, ‘How can God allow such things to happen? How? I think of that ship going down, of the savagery Reformers and Catholics show to each other, of Emma and Hobbey and David and sometimes - forgive me, but sometimes I think God only laughs at us.'

Seckford put down his cup. ‘I understand how people can think like that nowadays. And if God were all powerful, perhaps you would be right. But the Gospels tell a different story. The Cross, you see. For myself I think Christ suffers with us.'

‘What is the good of that, Reverend Seckford? How does that help?'

‘The age of miracles is long gone. See-'He picked up his mug again. ‘He cannot even stop me drinking, though I would like Him to.'

‘Why?' I asked. ‘Why can he not?'

He smiled sadly. ‘I do not know, I am only a drunken old country priest. But I have faith. It is the only way to live with the mystery.'

I shook my head. ‘Faith is beyond me now.'

Seckford smiled. ‘You do not like mysteries, do you? You like to solve them. As you have solved the mystery of Ellen.'

‘At such cost.'

He looked at me. ‘You will take care of her?'

‘I will do all I can.'

‘And that poor girl Emma, and the wreckage of that Hobbey family?'

‘So far as possible.'

Seckford leaned forward, placed his trembling hand on my arm. ‘ “Faith, Hope and Charity,”' he quoted. ‘ “But the greatest of these is charity.”'

‘That is an old-fashioned doctrine nowadays.'

‘The best, nonetheless, Master Shardlake. Remember me to Ellen when you see her. And tonight I shall light candles in the church for your friend George Leacon and his men. I shall make it a blaze of colour for them.'

He laid a shaking hand on mine. But I found it poor comfort.

BARAK AND I ARRIVED back in London five days later, on the afternoon of the 27th of July. We had been away almost a month. We had returned the horses at Kingston and made the final leg of the journey, like the first, by boat. Even the tidal swell of the river made me feel uneasy, though I tried to hide it.

We walked up through Temple Gardens. Dyrick would be back in his chambers soon; if Emma appeared I would have to liaise with him to get Hugh's - as the court supposed Emma to be - wardship transferred to me. But if she were never seen again I could do nothing.

Fleet Street and the Strand presented the same aspect as when we had left; groups of corner boys in blue robes boldly scrutinizing passers-by; posters pasted to the buildings warning of French spies. The boatman had told us more soldiers were being sent south; the French were still in the Solent.

Barak invited me to come to his house to see Tamasin, but I knew he would rather greet her alone so I said I must go to my chambers. We parted at the bottom of Chancery Lane. He promised to be in chambers the following morning. I walked on, turning in at Lincoln's Inn gate. I wanted to see how things fared there, and also to consider how I would tackle Coldiron when I returned home.

GATEHOUSE COURT was hot, dusty-smelling in the summer sun. Barristers and clerks walked to and fro within the square of red brick buildings. Here there was no sign of war. I felt myself relax at the old familiar scene as I walked to my chambers. I had sent Skelly a note from Esher saying I would shortly be back, and he rose to greet me with a smile.

‘Are you well, sir?' From the hesitation in his voice I could tell the strain of what I had been through showed on my face.

‘Well enough. And you? Your wife and children?'

‘We are all in good health, thanks be to God.'

‘Everything well here?'

‘Yes, sir. A few new cases are in, to come on in the new term.'

‘Good.' I sighed. ‘I want to encourage some new work.'

‘We heard about the French trying to invade the Isle of Wight, the loss of the
Mary Rose
in front of the King himself. They're sending another fifteen hundred men down from London-'

‘Yes, the road to Portsmouth was busy with men and supplies on our way back.'

‘Nobody seems to know what will happen next. The ship
Hedgehog
blew up in the Thames the same day the
Mary Rose
sank; some say she was blown up by French spies, though others blame the stock of gunpowder she carried not being supervised properly-'

‘I would guess that is more likely. Were many killed?'

‘A good many. Sir, are you all right?' He darted forward as I grasped at a corner of a table, for the floor had seemed to shift beneath my feet.

‘Tired, that is all. It has been a long journey. Now, are those new papers in my office? I should look at them.'

‘Sir-'Skelly asked.

I answered impatiently, ‘Yes?'

‘How is Jack? Is there any news of his wife? I think his baby is due soon.'

I smiled. ‘Jack is well, Tamasin too I believe. I left him going to her.'

I went into my office, shut the door, and leaned against it. Sweating, I waited for the feeling that the ground was moving to stop.

I LOOKED OVER the new papers, then turned my mind to the subject of Coldiron and Josephine. I was still considering how to tackle him when there was a knock at the door. Skelly came in and closed it.

‘Sir, there's a young man to see you. He called two days ago, asking for you. He says he knows you from a place called Hoyland. Though he—'

I sat bolt upright. ‘Show him in,' I said, trying to keep the excitement and relief from my voice. ‘Now.'

I sat behind my desk, my heart beating fast. But it was not Emma that Skelly ushered in, it was Sam Feaveryear. He stood before me, brushing a lock of greasy hair from his forehead in that familiar gesture. I fought down my disappointment.

‘Well, Feaveryear,' I said heavily, ‘have you brought a message from your master?'

He hesitated, then said, ‘No, sir. I have decided-I will work for Master Dyrick no more.'

I raised my eyebrows. Feaveryear said, in a sudden rush of words, ‘I did wrong, sir. I found something out at Hoyland. I let Master Dyrick send me away, but I should have told you. It has been on my conscience ever since. Hugh was really—'