Heartstone (Matthew Shardlake #5)(87)

I hesitated, then nodded. ‘This case leads me into bad habits,’ I muttered as I followed him round to the back of the house, where a stretch of lawn faced the old convent wall. Raised voices could be heard from Hobbey’s study. I recognized the Hampshire burr of Ettis, whom we had met in the village. He was shouting. ‘You want to steal our commons. Then where will the poor villagers get wood and food for their pigs?’

‘Take care, Goodman Ettis!’ Dyrick’s loud rasp cut like a knife. ‘Your boorish ways will serve you ill here. Do not forget that some of the cottagers have already sold their land to Master Hobbey. So less common land will be needed.’

‘Only four. And only when you threatened them with repossession when they got behind with their rent. And the grant is clear! The priory granted Hoyland village our woods near four hundred years ago.’

‘You have only your poor English translation of it—’

‘We cannot read that Norman scribble!’ another voice with a Hampshire accent shouted.

We were right under the window now. Fortunately the sill was above our heads. I looked round uneasily, fearing some servant might appear round the side of the house.

Dyrick replied forcefully, ‘This grant only says the village should have use of all the woodland it needs.’

‘The area was mapped out, clear as day.’

‘That was done before the Black Death, since when Hoyland, like every village in England, has far fewer people. The woodland area should be correspondingly reduced.’

‘I know what you have planned,’ Ettis shouted back at Dyrick. ‘Fell all our woodland, make great profit, then take the village lands and turn everything over to more woodland. No knife-tongued lawyer will talk us out of our rights! We will go to the Court of Requests!’

‘You’d better hurry, then,’ I heard Hobbey answer smoothly. ‘I’ve ordered my woodsmen to start again on the area you wrongly call yours next week. And you people had better not impede them.’

‘Note they’ve been warned, Feaveryear,’ Dyrick added. ‘In case we need to show the magistrate.’

‘Who is in your pocket,’ Ettis said bitterly.

Then we heard a bang, which must have been the door opening and slamming against the wall. Abigail’s voice cried out shrilly, ‘Rogues and vagabonds! Nicholas, Fulstowe tells me they shot an arrow at the hunchback lawyer in the forest! You villains!’ she screamed.

‘Shot?’ Hobbey sounded shocked. ‘Abigail, what do you mean?’

‘I have just seen Master Shardlake,’ Dyrick said. ‘He looks no worse than he ever does.’

‘He wasn’t hit! But they did it!’

Then I heard Fulstowe’s voice: he must have heard the commotion and come in. ‘Shardlake and his clerk were shot at while riding Master Hugh’s woodland. They surprised a deer: it must have been a poacher warning them off. No one was hurt, nor meant to be,’ he added impatiently.

‘You stupid woman!’ It was the first time I had heard Hobbey lose control. Abigail began to cry. The room had fallen silent. I inclined my head, and we began moving quietly away, round the side of the house.

‘That was getting interesting,’ Barak said.

‘I was concerned someone would come out and see us. And I think we heard enough.’ I frowned. ‘That woman is so frightened.’

‘She’s mad.’

‘It’s hard to know. By the way, did you notice the way the boys took orders from Fulstowe earlier? And from what we heard there Fulstowe doesn’t bother showing much respect to Abigail.’

‘Who is right about the woods?’ Barak asked.

‘I’d need to see the land grant. But if there’s a defined area, that stands well for the villagers.’

‘If I go into the village while you’re away, maybe it’s time to tell them you are counsel at Requests. Then we might get some information.’

I considered. ‘Yes. Do it. See Ettis. Tell him if they write to chambers I’ll apply for an injunction as soon as I get back. On condition they say nothing to Hobbey.’ I smiled. ‘I can tell Hobbey about it on the day we leave.’

‘You are turning into a Machiavelli since becoming a Court of Wards lawyer.’

I looked at him seriously. ‘Ask Ettis to tell us in return all he can about Hugh. Something is going on in this house that we cannot see. I swear it.’





Chapter Twenty-one


SEVEN O’CLOCK the next morning found me riding north along the Portsmouth road, already a mile from Hoyland Priory. Once again I had taken Oddleg. He walked along rapidly, seeming happy to be on a long journey again. The weather was fine, a scent of dewy grass on the air which was still cool at that hour. It would be hot later, and I wore a doublet of light wool, grateful to have left my robes behind. As I rode I pondered the conversation I had had, just before I left, with Hugh.

I had asked to be called at six, and been woken by a knock on the door. Fulstowe put his head round. ‘There is some breakfast downstairs, sir,’ he said, adding, ‘I understand you are travelling to Sussex and will not be back until tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Yes. A piece of business for another client. Thank you.’ I had already told Hobbey that, and no more – I was not going to tell them anything about Ellen. I rose and dressed. Then I picked up Emma’s decorated cross from my bedside table and Hugh’s copy of Toxophilus. I stepped quietly into the corridor and walked along to Hugh’s room. I hesitated briefly, then knocked. I had gone there the previous evening, but either he was not there or was not answering. Here was a rare chance to speak with him undisturbed.