Heartstone (Matthew Shardlake #5)(76)

‘How far must we press this unsavoury episode?’ Dyrick asked when Hobbey had finished.

‘One more thing, Master Hobbey. You have been selling off wood from the land which is part of Hugh’s patrimony.’

Hobbey spread his hands. ‘I would be a poor custodian of his interests if I did otherwise. Between the need for timber for ships and the demand for charcoal for the Sussex ironworks the price has never been so high.’ Mention of the Sussex ironworks again, I thought. ‘I am having part of my own woods felled. There is little other profit to be made here. The rents from Hoyland village and a few cottagers in the woods bring in less than seventy pounds a year, which becomes worth less and less with this great rise in prices. You have seen my accounts.’

‘Indeed. And I would like to take a ride through the woodland Hugh owns, before we meet Sir Quintin Priddis on Friday.’

‘Please do. But it is a large area, several miles deep in parts. Men are at work on the outer fringes now, felling trees, but further in it is old, wild growth, not easily penetrated.’

Dyrick laughed. ‘Do not get lost in there, Brother, or Mistress Calfhill will have to find another lawyer.’

‘I won’t.’ I made my voice as smooth as Hobbey’s. ‘And thank you, sir. I think that will be all, for now.’

Dyrick looked up sharply. ‘For now? You are not allowed innumerable depositions.’

‘I will only ask if something new arises.’ I smiled. ‘And now, if I may, I will see the steward, Fulstowe.’

‘Certainly. He is with my hounds, supervising their feeding.’ Hobbey glanced at the hourglass, where the sand was still falling.

‘I will go and find him,’ I said. ‘I would like a little breath of air. Barak, come with me. And I think I will ride out and see Hugh’s woodlands tomorrow.’



WE WALKED OUT into the fresh morning. A peacock strutted on the lawn, bright feathers glistening in the sun. As we approached, it uttered its mournful cry and stalked away. We followed the sound of barking to the outhouses, and I noted again the many hiding places behind the trees dotting the lawn.

‘What did you think of Hobbey?’ I asked.

‘No fool. But I don’t trust him: his story was too smoothly told.’

‘I agree. But Hugh Curteys is clearly not mistreated.’

‘They intended to marry David to Emma.’

‘That is the way of wardship. But there is something hidden here, I am sure of it.’ I frowned. ‘I was thinking just now of the corner boys. If there is some roguery going on over selling the woodland, and either Sir Quintin Priddis or his son were in London, they would probably be in and out of the Court of Wards all the time. They might have learned of my involvement in this case.’

‘And feared corrupt dealing being exposed, and so tried to frighten you off?’

‘They would not then know I had the Queen behind me. Though Hobbey will have told them since, in his letter.’ I smiled. ‘I look forward to this meeting on Friday.’ I took a deep breath, and added, ‘Before that, given time, I think I may ride out to Rolfswood, see what I might find. Alone.’

‘You should not go at all. And certainly not alone.’

‘It will do me good to have a night away from here.’ I was not going to tell Barak what I had heard of two deaths at the foundry. ‘And I want you here, finding out all you can. That servant Ursula, she at least has no love for the Hobbeys. You could try and talk to her.’

He put his head to one side. ‘Are you hiding something about Ellen?’ he asked shrewdly.

‘God’s death, Jack,’ I snapped, reddening. ‘Leave it alone. It is for me to judge what to do. Now, later this morning I am going to reply to Warner. Do you want to write a letter to Tamasin for the post rider to collect?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then let us get our work done.’ I strode on towards the continuing sound of barking, which came from a building near the stables. I looked through an open door into a kennels where a dozen black-and-white hunting dogs stood on thick straw, tethered to the walls by long iron chains. Also chained up were two of the largest greyhounds I had ever seen, their lean bodies a mass of muscle. A man was feeding the hunting dogs chunks of meat from a pail, watched keenly by Fulstowe. The steward looked round, surprised to see me, then bowed.

I nodded at the greyhounds. ‘Those are big dogs.’

‘They are Hugh and David’s greyhounds, Ajax and Apollo. The boys will be here to collect them shortly. Master Avery, they are going hunting. Do not feed them.’ He turned back to me. ‘On the hunt the other dogs will be sent after the does.

‘This hunt of your master’s, I gather it is the first here?’

Fulstowe nodded. ‘It is. We have been keeping the hounds hungry, to get them keen for the scent of meat. That is Master Avery, whom we have hired as our Master of Hunt.’

The young man stood up and bowed. He was as thin and sinewy as the dogs, with a sharp intelligent face, his leather apron spattered with blood from the meat.

‘Master Shardlake is here on legal business,’ Fulstowe said.

‘I heard.’ Avery looked at me keenly.

‘Avery is working with our forester,’ Fulstowe said. He seemed to have decided to play the bluff steward. ‘They have found a large stag in our park.’