C.J. Sansom - Heartstone

There was silence round the table for a moment. I thought of Leacon's men repairing the musty old jacks they would have to fight in. Hobbey looked at me, eyes glinting sharp in the candlelight. 'I believe you are personally acquainted with the Queen, Master Shardlake.'

'I have that privilege,' I answered carefully. 'I knew her majesty when she was still Lady Latimer.'

Hobbey spread his hands, smiling coldly. 'I, alas, have the patronage of no high personages. I have risen only to be a country gentleman.'

'All credit to you for that, sir,' Dyrick said. 'And for your fine house.'

'These smaller religious houses can be turned to fine residences. The only disadvantage is that this one was also used as Hoyland parish church, so we have to go to the next parish on Sundays.'

'With all the oafs from the village,' Abigail added tartly.

'And our status means we need to go each Sunday,' Hobbey added in a weary tone. Clearly, I thought, this is no religious family.

'How many nuns were here, Nicholas?' Dyrick asked.

'Only five. This was a subsidiary house of Wherwell Abbey, in the west of the county. I have a picture of the last abbess but one in my study, I will show you tomorrow.'

'Her face all wrapped up so tight in her wimple,' Abigail said with a shudder.

'They used to send disobedient nuns here,' David said. 'Ones that had had monks' hands at those wimples, and elsewhere—'

'David, fie, for shame,' his father said. But he spoke mildly, giving his son an indulgent look.

Hugh said quietly, 'Some nights, sitting here, I seem to hear faint echoes of their prayers and psalms. Just as we still faintly smell the incense.'

'They deserve no sympathy,' Hobbey said flatly. 'They lived as parasites on the rents from their woodland.' I thought, as you do now.

'They would be able to make fine profits today,' Dyrick said. 'The price wood is fetching.'

'Yes. This is the time to sell, while the war is on.'

'There will be good profits from your land and Master Hugh's too,' I observed.

Dyrick raised his eyebrows at me. 'Master Hobbey is laying up a fine store of money for Hugh.'

'You are welcome to see my accounts,' Hobbey said.

'Thank you,' I answered neutrally, knowing those could be doctored.

'For when I am twenty-one, a grown man,' Hugh said quietly, then laughed, a bitter little sound. Abigail sighed deeply. I thought, that woman is wound so tight she could explode.

Hobbey passed the wine around. Dyrick placed his hand over his cup. 'I will have no more, thank you,' he said. 'I prefer to keep my mind sharp.' He looked at me meaningfully.

'What happened to the nuns when they left?' I asked.

'They got good pensions.'

'Old Ursula was one of the nuns' servants,' Abigail said. 'She wishes they were back, you can see it in her.'

'We needed someone who knew the place,' Hobbey said, an impatient note entering his voice.

'She looks at me insolently. And those other servants, they're all from the village. They hate us, they'll murder us in our beds one night.'

'Oh, Abigail,' Hobbey said, 'these fears and fantasies of yours.'

The servants came in again, carrying trays of custards and comfits. As we ate I noticed something odd about the light. The candles seemed to be flickering and dimming. Then I realized that huge numbers of moths were flittering round them, as they had been at the campfire the night before. They caught their poor wings in the flames and fell and died, more moths at once taking their place. 'Some fool servant has left a window open,' Abigail said.

Hobbey looked at the candles curiously. 'I have never seen so many moths as this summer. It must be to do with the strange weather we had in June.'

Dyrick looked at Hobbey, then me. 'Well, Master Hobbey, a delightful meal. But perhaps now we should discuss the business that brought us here.'

'Yes,' Hobbey agreed. 'Abigail, boys, perhaps you could leave us.'

'Should not Hugh stay?' I asked.

'No,' Dyrick answered firmly. 'He is a boy and this is men's business. You will have ample chance to talk to him tomorrow.'

I looked at Hugh. His face was impassive as he rose and accompanied Abigail and David from the hall. As the door closed I heard Abigail calling out for Lamkin. Fulstowe remained where he was behind his master, still as a soldier on guard. 'I would like Ambrose to stay,' Hobbey said. 'He manages my business down here.'

'Certainly,' I agreed.

Hobbey leaned back in his chair. 'Well, Master Shardlake. This is a strange business. Upsetting for my family. My wife has had delicate health ever since poor Emma died.'

'I am sorry.'

'She always wanted a daughter.' But Hugh, I thought, has no affection for her with his coldly formal manner, addressing her as 'Mistress'. And David had treated his mother like dirt.

'And just now she is anxious about the hunt,' Hobbey added in a lighter tone. 'We are having a hunt on my land, Master Shardlake. It will be an occasion, the first in my new deer park.' Pride had entered his quiet voice, as when he showed me the tapestries. 'It was to be this week but we have postponed it to next Monday to allow this business to be dealt with.' He shook his head. 'And all because Michael Calfhill chose to burst in on us out of the blue last spring.'

'May I ask what happened then? Informally, for now?'

Hobbey looked at Dyrick, who nodded. 'It is simply told,' Hobbey said. 'One afternoon in April the boys were at the butts—they think of nothing but their bows since this war began. I was in my study when a servant ran in and said a strange man was outside, shouting at Hugh. I called for Ambrose and we went out. I did not recognize Calfhill at first, it was five years since he worked for me. He was raving, shouting at Hugh that he must come away with him. He said he loved him better than anyone else in the world.' He inclined his head, looking at me meaningfully, then turned to Fulstowe. 'It was an extraordinary scene, was it not, Ambrose?'

Fulstowe nodded gravely. 'Master David was there as well, he looked terrified.'

'What was Hugh's reaction, Master Hobbey?'

'He was afraid. Both boys said later that Calfhill just appeared from the old nuns' cemetery.'

'He must have been hiding there,' Fulstowe added. 'It is very overgrown.'

So you see,' Dyrick said, 'Michael Calfhill was a pervert. Probably thoughts of what he would like to do with Hugh had been roiling in his mind for years and driven him mad.' He reached across the table and slapped his hand down on a moth which had fallen to the table and fluttered there, desperately beating its burned wings. He wiped the mess on a napkin. 'Forgive me, Nicholas, but it was annoying me. Now, Brother Shardlake. How do you wish to proceed with the depositions?'

I addressed Hobbey. 'I would like to talk to Hugh, of course, and yourself and your wife.'

Hobbey nodded. 'So long as Master Dyrick is present at all the interviews.'

'And Master David.'

'No,' Dyrick said firmly. 'He is a minor. Hugh is too, but the court will wish to see his evidence despite his youth. David is a different matter.'

I went on, 'And Fulstowe, and such servants as have dealings with the boys.'

'God's death,' Dyrick said. 'We will be here till the leaves fall.'

'Fulstowe certainly.' Hobbey leaned forward, speaking in the same quiet, even tone but with a steely note now. 'But my servants know the boys only as masters.'

'The Court of Wards would not permit random interrogation of servants,' Dyrick said firmly, 'unless they had particular knowledge. It undermines the relationship between master and servant.'

Dyrick was right; I had been testing the water. I could not force the servants, or David, to give depositions unless I believed they had particular evidence. I would, though, have liked to talk to David; there was an uneasiness under his spoiled foolishness. And Abigail had spoken of the servants murdering them in their beds, while Dyrick had told me Hobbey wished to enclose the village lands. If the servants were village folk, that might explain Abigail's fear. It might also mean some would be willing to talk to me.