Heartstone (Matthew Shardlake #5)(86)

‘I am useless,’ Feaveryear said with a sad laugh. ‘I succeed only in pulling my arms from their sockets.’

‘Ignore David,’ Hugh said. ‘It takes years of practice to strengthen your arms to pull a bow properly. But anyone may learn, and see, already you improve a little.’

‘It is hard work.’

‘ “The fostering of shooting is labour, that companion of virtue,” ’ I quoted from Toxophilus.

Hugh looked at me with interest. ‘You have read the book, Master Shardlake.’

‘He makes some pretty phrases.’

‘It is a great book,’ Hugh replied earnestly.

‘I would not go quite so high as that.’ I noticed Hugh and David had both been shaved, David’s dark stubble reduced to the merest shadow on his cheeks while Hugh had a little cut by one of the scars on his neck. ‘Perhaps we may discuss the book sometime.’

‘I should like that, Master Shardlake. I have little opportunity to discuss books. David can barely read,’ he added jestingly, but with an edge. David scowled.

‘I shoot better than you,’ he said. ‘Here, Feaveryear, I will show you how a truly strong archer shoots.’ He picked up his own bow from the grass. Like Hugh’s it was beautifully made, though not quite so highly polished.

‘Such achievement for a youngling,’ Barak said, straight faced. David frowned, unsure if he were jesting. Then he strung the bow, bent to it, came up and loosed the arrow. It sped through the air and hit the target, missing the centre by a few inches.

‘Not quite so good as Hugh,’ Fulstowe said quietly, with a little smile.

David rounded on him. ‘I have the greater strength. Set the butts further off and I would beat him easily.’

‘I think perhaps your argument is groundless,’ I ventured to the boys. ‘Toxophilus says range and accuracy are both needed. You both excel, and if one has a little more of each quality than the other, what matter?’

‘David and I have been jesting and bickering these last five years, sir,’ Hugh said wearily. ‘It is what we do, the subject matters not. Tell me,’ he added earnestly, ‘what is it you find to criticize in Toxophilus?’

‘His liking for war. And his praise for the King has a crawling quality.’

‘Should we not foster the arts of war to protect ourselves?’ Hugh asked with quiet intensity. ‘Are we to allow the French to invade and have their will with us?’

‘No. But we should ask how we came to this. If the King had not invaded France last year—’

‘For hundreds of years Gascony and Normandy were ours.’ For the first time I heard Hugh speak with real passion. ‘It was our birthright from the Normans before upstart French nobles started calling themselves kings—’

‘So King Henry would say.’

‘He is right.’

‘Do not let Father hear you talking like that,’ David said. ‘You know he will not let you go for a soldier.’ Then, to my surprise, his voice took on a note of entreaty. ‘And without you who should I have to hunt with?’ David turned to me. ‘We went out this morning, and our greyhounds caught half a dozen hares. Though my fast hound caught more—’

‘Be quiet,’ Hugh said with sudden impatience. ‘Your endless who-is-better-than-who will drive me brainsick!’

David looked hurt. ‘But competition is the spice of life. In Father’s business—’

‘Are we not supposed to be gentlemen now? Do you know what a hobby is, Master Shardlake?’

‘A hunting hawk,’ I answered.

‘Ay, the smallest and meanest of birds.’

David’s eyes widened with hurt. I thought he might burst into tears.

‘That’s enough, both of you,’ Fulstowe snapped. To my surprise he spoke as though he had the authority of a parent. Both boys were silent at once.

‘Please do not argue,’ Feaveryear said with sudden emotion, his prominent Adam’s apple jerking up and down. ‘You are brothers, Christians—’

He was interrupted by a loud voice calling his name. Dyrick was striding across the lawn. He looked angry, his face almost as red as his hair. ‘What are you doing shooting with the boys? And you, Barak! You were told to keep to the servants’ quarters. Master steward, do you not know your master’s instructions?’

Fulstowe did not reply, but gave Dyrick a cold look. ‘The boys invited us,’ Barak said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

‘So we did, sir,’ Hugh said. ‘For some new company.’

Dyrick ignored them. ‘Come with me, Sam! Quick! Ettis and a bunch of clods from the village are shouting Master Hobbey down in his own study. I want what they say recorded!’

‘Yes, sir,’ Feaveryear answered humbly. Dyrick turned and strode away, Feaveryear following.

‘Come boys,’ Fulstowe said. ‘I think we should go in. And it is not sensible to argue in front of our guests.’ He looked at Hugh and David, and some understanding seemed to pass between the three. They went off after Dyrick and Feaveryear. Barak glanced over the building, eyes narrowed. ‘We could go for a little walk and pass under the study window. It’s at the back of the house. We might find something out. See, they have opened all the windows to let in the breeze.’