C.J. Sansom - Heartstone

Hugh looked expressionlessly at the greyhounds, their long muzzles red as they growled over a scrap of bloody fur.

AN HOUR LATER I was sitting in Barak's room.

'It was only a lapdog,' he said. 'Are you sure it wasn't an accident?'

'You didn't see David's smile when he let go the leash. Abigail is his mother, yet he seems to hate her, while Hugh treats her with indifference.'

'Hugh's greyhound attacked the spaniel too?'

'I think he lost hold of its leash. Abigail loved that dog. David couldn't have done anything worse to her. But what did Abigail mean, calling me a fool, saying, "You do not see what is in front of you"? What don't I see?'

Barak considered. 'Something to do with Fulstowe? He is such a haughty fellow, you'd think he owned the place.'

'Whatever it is, I don't think Dyrick knows. When Abigail shouted that out he looked completely astonished. Oh, in God's name, what is going on here?' I pulled my fingers through my hair, as though I could drag an answer from my tired brain, then groaned and stood up. 'It is time for dinner. Jesu knows what that will be like.'

'I'll be glad to get out of here tomorrow. Even to go to Portsmouth.'

I left him and returned to the house. The sun was starting to sink behind the tall new chimneys of the priory. A servant, supervised by Fulstowe, was wiping a patch of grass with a cloth; removing Lamkin's blood, that his mistress might not see. The steward came across.

'Master Shardlake, I was about to look for you. Master Hobbey asks if you would see him in his study.'

HOBBEY SAT in a chair by his desk, looking sombre and pale. He had upturned his hourglass and was watching the sand trickle through. Dyrick sat opposite, frowning. I guessed the two had been conferring. Whatever the outcome it had not pleased Dyrick. For the first time I saw anxiety in his face.

'Please sit, Master Shardlake,' Hobbey said. 'There is something I would tell you.'

I sat. He said quietly, 'My wife has not been truly well for years, ever since poor Emma died. She has unaccountable fears, fantasies. Please discount her outburst earlier. I confess I have concealed how—how agitated she can become.' His pale skin reddened. 'Master Dyrick, too, was not aware of her—state of health.'

I looked at Dyrick. He frowned at the floor. Hobbey continued, 'Abigail loves the boys. But how strange she can be sometimes—that explains Hugh's distance from her. David's, too. This afternoon—I think she really believed David set Ajax on Lamkin deliberately.'

I stared at him. Had Hobbey not seen David's smile? I turned to Dyrick. He looked away and I thought, you saw it. I asked Hobbey, 'What do you think your wife meant, saying I was a fool for not seeing something before my eyes?'

'I do not know. She has—such fantasies.' He sat up and spread his thin white hands wide. 'I ask you only to believe she has never touched Hugh in anger, nor my son until this afternoon.'

I thought, that is probably true, judging by David's shock when his mother set about him; though, given what he had done, her reaction was hardly surprising. 'She said both Hugh and David were unnatural creatures. What could she have meant?'

'I do not know.' Hobbey looked away, and I thought, you are lying. He turned back to me, the sad look settling on his face again. 'It is because of Abigail we mix so little with our neighbours. She does not want to see them.' He set his lips. 'But we will go ahead with the hunt.'

'I am sorry, sir, that she is so unhappy. The loss of her dog will distress her greatly.'

'Oh yes,' Hobbey said with a touch of bitterness. 'Lamkin had become the centre of her life.' He stood up, something heavy and reluctant in his movements. 'Well, dinner is ready. We must eat. And preserve appearances before the servants. Abigail will not be joining us, she has gone to her room.'

IT WAS A sombre meal. Fulstowe joined us at table. For the steward of a substantial house to join the family at dinner sometimes was not unusual, but the way his eyes kept darting between Hobbey, Hugh and David, as though monitoring their behaviour, was strange. I remembered Barak saying Fulstowe acted as though he owned Hoyland Priory.

There was little conversation. I looked between them all, searching for something that was before my eyes but which I had not noticed before; there was nothing. David's eyes were red-rimmed and he looked crushed, somehow smaller. Next to him Hugh concentrated on his meal, eyes downcast and face expressionless, though I sensed the tension in him.

Towards the end of the meal David suddenly laid down his spoon and put his face in his hands. His heavy shoulders shook as he began, silently, to cry. His father reached across and took his arm. 'It was an accident,' Hobbey said gently, as though to a small child. 'Your mother will realize that in time. All will be well. You will see.' On David's other side, Hugh looked away. I wondered, was he jealous that Hobbey favoured David? But no, I thought, he does not care about any of them.

After dinner I went to Dyrick's room. I knocked, and his sharp voice bade me enter. He was sitting at a little desk, reading a letter by candlelight. He looked up, his thin face unwelcoming.

'Is that the letter from your wife, Brother?' I began civilly.

'Yes. She wants me home.'

'That was a horrible scene earlier. The killing of the dog, and Mistress Hobbey's reaction.'

'She didn't touch Hugh,' Dyrick answered sharply.

'She said some strange things. Calling Hugh and David unnatural creatures, saying I could not see something before my eyes.'

He waved a hand dismissively. 'She is deranged.'

'Did Hobbey tell you something, Brother, before he called me in? You seem worried.'

'I worry about my children!' he snapped. 'But what do you know of a parent's affection?' He smacked angrily at the letter. 'I should be at home with them and my wife, not here.' He glared at me, then said, 'I have watched you on this journey. You are a soft man, always looking for some poor creature to rescue. You dig and dig away at this matter, though you find nothing. You would do better to cease this obstinacy and go home. Look for another widow to chase.'

I stiffened with anger. 'What do you mean?'

'It is common gossip around the courts that you doted on Roger Elliard's widow after he died, and would bark and bite at everyone for months after she left London.'

'You churl, you know nothing—'

Dyrick laughed, an angry bitter laugh. 'Ah, at last I have drawn a manly response from you! Take my advice, Brother, marry, get a family of your own to worry over like an anxious hen.'

I stepped forward then. I would have struck Dyrick but I realized that was what he wanted. He had distracted me from my questioning, and if I assaulted him he would report it to the Court of Wards and I would be in trouble. I stepped back. I said quietly, 'I will not strike you, Brother, you are not worth it. I will leave you. But I believe you know what Abigail meant. Your client told you.'

'Leave this matter,' Dyrick said, his voice unexpectedly quiet. To my surprise his face looked almost haggard. 'Let us go home.'

'No,' I answered. I went out and closed the door.

NEXT MORNING I rose early again. It was another fine summer's morning. The tenth of July, ten days already since we left London. As I dressed in my robes for my visit to Priddis, I thought of Dyrick's words the night before. Characteristically vicious, they had nonetheless unsettled me. But I was still sure Hobbey had told him some secret—he had looked worried ever since.