Heartstone (Matthew Shardlake #5)(147)

‘Did you dislike her?’ Sir Harold asked.

Hugh hesitated, then said, ‘I did. Perhaps I was wrong – ’ his voice almost broke – ‘she had been strange, unwell, for many years. When I saw her dead I said, “You deserved this.” But at the same time I placed a flower in her lap, for she made a most piteous sight.’

Sir Harold and Sir Quintin stared at each other, taken aback. ‘Deserved it?’ Sir Harold asked. ‘Why did you say such a thing?’

‘It was how I felt, sir.’

Sir Quintin said sharply, ‘When I spoke with you in Portsmouth last week, you said you had no complaints to make about your life here.’

‘I did, sir, but I did not say I was happy.’

There was the loudest murmur yet from the benches. Then there was an unexpected sound. Nicholas Hobbey had burst into tears. Burying his face in his handkerchief, he rose and walked out of the hall. Dyrick turned to me, his face furious. ‘See what you have done!’

I noticed Fulstowe watching his master. For the first time I saw anxiety in the steward’s calculating face. Did he, like Hobbey, begin to see his world crumbling around him? Or did he have some other reason for anxiety? Ettis, sitting in his chains, looked at Hugh with something like hope.

There was another interruption. David stood, sending his chair crashing over. He pointed at Hugh. ‘You lie,’ he shouted. ‘You are a viper this family has taken to its bosom! You have always envied us because you are not like us, you can never be like us! My father, he loved my mother, and so did I. I did love her!’ He stared round the room, his face anguished.

Sir Harold was looking anxious. He whispered to Sir Quintin. I caught the word ‘adjournment’. Sir Quintin shook his head vigorously, then banged his stick on the floor. ‘Be quiet! All of you!’ He turned to me, his eyes savage. ‘Your behaviour is disgraceful, sir. You are turning this inquest into a circus. You have brought no evidence forward. This whole family, it is clear, is racked by grief. Sir Harold, let us proceed.’

The coroner stared round the room, then asked me, ‘Serjeant Shardlake, have you any evidence associating anyone with the commission of this crime?’

‘No, sir. I say only that given that many had – difficulties – with Mistress Hobbey, and the lack of any proper evidence against Master Ettis, the verdict should be murder by person or persons unknown.’

‘That is for the jury to decide. Sit down, or I will hold you in contempt.’

There was nothing more I could do. Sir Harold called no other witnesses. The jury was sent out. They soon returned with their verdict. Murder – it could be nothing other than that, of course – by Leonard Ettis, yeoman of Hoyland, who would now be held in custody in Winchester jail till the next assizes in September.

As he was led out Ettis looked at me again in appeal. I nodded once, vigorously. In front of me Hugh sat straight as a stock again, his back rigid. Beside him David still wept quietly. Fulstowe came across, took David’s arm, and led him from the hall. I had failed to widen the inquest’s investigation, at terrible cost to the family. Now nothing further would happen for months. I put my head in my hands. The room was clearing. I heard the tap of Sir Quintin’s stick as he came down the hall. The tapping stopped beside me. I looked up. Sir Quintin seemed exhausted, but triumphant too. Edward was supporting him. Sir Quintin leaned slowly down, and spoke quietly. ‘There, Master Shardlake. See what happens when people are awkward at inquests.’





Chapter Thirty-six


WE FILED OUT OF the hall into the sunshine. The jurors walked down the drive in a group, while most of the villagers gathered round Ettis’s wife. She had broken down and stood sobbing. I walked across to her.

‘Mistress Ettis,’ I said quietly.

She looked up and wiped her face. ‘You spoke up for my husband,’ she said quietly. ‘I thank you.’

‘I can do little now, but I promise, when he comes to trial at Winchester, I will ensure all is fairly done. There is no actual evidence against him,’ I added encouragingly.

‘What should we do about going to Requests about our woodlands, sir? My husband would want us to continue.’

Behind me I saw Dyrick and Fulstowe standing on the steps, watching. I looked round the villagers; some seemed cowed, but many had a defiant aspect. I said, loudly, ‘I think it vital you lodge your case. You must not let what happened today intimidate you from taking action. I think that was partly the intention; I do not consider a jury can convict Master Ettis. Appoint someone else from the village to lead you until he is freed.’ I took a deep breath, then added, ‘Send the papers to me, I will fight the case for you.’

‘Listen to my master,’ Barak added approvingly. ‘Fight back.’

Mistress Ettis nodded. Then everyone turned at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. A messenger in royal livery was riding fast up the drive. He came to a halt at the steps, dismounted, and approached Fulstowe. They spoke briefly, then the messenger went inside. The steward hesitated, then walked down the steps to us. Dyrick stayed where he was. I had, reluctantly, to admire Fulstowe’s courage; there were near twenty villagers there, in hostile and angry mood, but he marched straight up to me. ‘Master Shardlake, that messenger has a packet of letters for you. He is waiting in the kitchen.’ He turned to the villagers. ‘Go, all of you, unless you wish to be arrested for trespass.’