Heartstone (Matthew Shardlake #5)(174)

I waited till the refugees had passed. They began wearily climbing Portsdown Hill. An old couple started to argue about whether to abandon their cart, which contained a dismantled truckle bed, some poor clothes, pewter plates and a couple of stools. People trying to get past shouted at them to get out of the way. Then I heard drums, and a company of militia with an assortment of weapons marched rapidly down the hill. The refugees jumped quickly aside. The soldiers marched rapidly past me, the half-armour some wore clinking and rattling. The guards at the bridge saluted as they tramped across in a cloud of yellow dust.

When they had gone, I rode up to the nearest guard and asked what the latest news was. He looked at me with irritation. ‘The Frenchies have come, that’s what.’ He was an enlisted man, who normally would not have dared talk to someone of my class like that; but as I had seen many times now, the war was dissolving social boundaries.

‘Can I get into the city?’

‘Everyone’s trying to leave.’

‘There is someone I need to try and get out. A friend.’

‘Well, master lawyer, if you can persuade them to let you in, I wish you the best of luck.’ He gave me a glance of grudging respect, and waved me on.



ON PORTSEA ISLAND the soldiers’ tents still stood, but they were all empty now, the flaps open, only a handful of men on guard. Small objects were scattered here and there on the grass – a bowl, a spoon, a cap – the soldiers had been called away in a hurry.

As I approached the town walls, where men still laboured hard to strengthen the fortifications, I passed another group of refugees trudging towards the bridge, among them a group of prostitutes, their painted faces streaked and dusty. Then I had to pull into the side again to allow another company of soldiers to march past; foreign mercenaries this time in bright slashed doublets, talking in German. I had a view of the fleet: the ships still rode at anchor, among them the Great Harry and the Mary Rose; I saw the Galley Subtle with the galleasses, between the warships and the huge French galleys half a mile off. I wondered if Leacon and his company were already aboard the Great Harry. A cloud of dark smoke came from the front of a French galley, followed by a distant boom; an English galleass had fired back.

I reached the tents outside the city. As I feared, they, too, were empty. Looking up at the walls, I saw the soldiers lining the top had their backs to me, watching what was happening out at sea; the city wall now blocked my view. I turned Oddleg towards the tents, hoping someone had been left on guard who could give me information, but could see nobody. It was strange riding among the tents and hearing no noise, no shouting or clattering. The tents of Leacon’s company, like the others, were empty. I was about to turn back when I heard a voice calling weakly.

‘Lawyer Shardlake! Over here!’

I followed the voice to a tent from which a cesspit smell emanated. Hesitantly, I looked through the open flap. In the half-light within I saw bowls and clothing scattered about. In a corner a man lay, half-covered by a blanket. It was Sulyard, the bully who had been so full of bravado the night before. His ugly bony face was white as a sheet. ‘It is you,’ he said. ‘I thought I was having bad visions.’

‘Sulyard? What ails you?’

‘There was a barrel of bad beer last night. When we went into Portsmouth this morning four of us were sent back with the flux.’ He gave a little smile, and I saw that he was glad.

‘Where is the rest of the company?’

‘On the Great Harry. Listen, can you get me something to drink? There’s beer in the tent with the green flag.’

I went and found the tent he described. There were some barrels of beer and drinking vessels stored there and I filled a tankard. I took it back to him. He drank greedily, then he gave me an amused, calculating look. ‘Have you come for the boy?’

‘What boy?’ I asked eagerly. ‘Do you mean Hugh Curteys?’

‘The one that was with you the first time you came here, the good archer.’

‘Have you seen him? Please, tell me.’

‘We were supposed to go on the ships this morning, but the King was on the Great Harry and they weren’t going to put us on till he’d gone across to the Mary Rose. We were waiting on the wharf, when your lad ran up. Hot and dusty, carrying a bow. He recognized Captain Leacon and asked to join the company. By then four of us were crouched against a wall shitting like dogs, and the company’s already short. So the captain took him on, and sent us sick ones back.’

‘I need to find that boy.’

‘You’ll have a job. Just after, there was a great commotion and the King’s barge came speeding back to shore. Then the French fleet comes into view round the Isle of Wight.’ With difficulty, Sulyard leaned up on his elbows. ‘Do you know what’s happened since? Have the French landed?’ I understood the reason for his unaccustomed civility; it was not just drink he wanted; he was afraid the French would come and butcher him in his tent.

‘No. They’re skirmishing out at sea. Listen, did they take the boy on board the Great Harry?’

‘They must have done.’

‘I must try and find him. I must go into town.’

‘They won’t let you in, they’ve been clearing civilians out all morning. You’d need to go to the army quartermaster’s office at the royal tents.’

‘Is the King there?’