C.J. Sansom - Heartstone

'The fleet,' David said wonderingly. 'Gathering to await the King.'

'And the French,' Barak added soberly.

Hugh looked at me with a smile. 'Have you ever seen such a sight?'

'No,' I answered quietly. 'No, I have not.'

'Those out in the Solent are in deep water. There are many sandbanks there: with luck the French will not know where they are and will ground themselves.'

'They will have their pilots, as we have,' Hobbey observed impatiently.

I said quietly to Hobbey, 'I had not expected Portsmouth Haven to be so large, or to see so many mudbanks.'

'Near the harbour mouth, there is deep water.'

'The whole fleet can get in if they need to, I am sure,' David said proudly. 'Then the guns on either side of the harbour will keep the French out.'

I looked along the long crest of Portsdown Hill, which I realized was part of the long chain of the South Downs. As far as I could see, all along the hilltops, a chain of beacons marched, each with a guard beside it. To my right, the beacons continued, past a large encampment of soldiers' tents.

'Let us go on,' Hobbey said. 'It is near four miles to Portsmouth. Be careful, the road down is steep.'

We began to descend, towards the island.

WE RODE SLOWLY down the steep southern escarpment of Portsdown Hill. Ahead, two ox carts stacked with long tree trunks were descending the steep road with difficulty. We could not safely pass, so slowed our pace to ride behind them. I heard a clatter and turned. Feaveryear's horse had stumbled and almost pitched him from the saddle. 'Clumsy oaf,' Dyrick snapped. 'If I'd known you couldn't ride properly I'd never have brought you.'

'I'm sorry,' Feaveryear mumbled. I looked back at him, wishing that just for once he might answer Dyrick back.

Hobbey was looking at the fields of Portsea Island below us. 'There is some good growing land there, David,' he told his son. David did not seem interested. Like Hugh, he was absorbed in watching the ships, the distant specks in the harbour slowly becoming larger.

I said to Hobbey, 'Porchester Castle seems very large, but there are few buildings in the enclosure.'

'It is Roman, that is how they built their castles. It was the key to the defence of Portsmouth Haven till the silting up of the upper harbour isolated it.'

I looked down at Portsea island, a chequerboard of fields, the parts not under cultivation full of cattle and sheep. I made out movement on the roads, people and carts in the lanes heading for the town. I looked out at the Haven; sometimes trees and buildings hid the view but gradually I began to distinguish the ships more clearly. Several long, low craft were moving rapidly through the water, while four enormous warships stood at anchor; all were still like tiny models at this distance. I wondered whether Leacon and his men might be on one of the warships already. I could just make out a blur of movement along the sides of the smaller ships, like the scuttling legs of an insect.

'What are those?' I said to Hugh.

'Galleasses—ships that have both sail and oars. The oarsmen must be practising.'

We rode on, the road thankfully beginning to level out. It was another still, muggy day and I was sweating in my robes again. A bank of trees obstructed our view of the sea, but now I had a clearer view of the island. Several patches of white dots, soldiers' tents I imagined, were scattered along the coast. Next to the narrow mouth of the harbour the town was surrounded by walls, more white tents outside. There were large marshy-looking lakes on two sides of the town walls. Portsmouth, I realized, was a natural fortress.

Hugh pointed to a square white construction halfway along the shore. 'South Sea Castle,' he said proudly. 'The King's new fortress. The cannon there can fire far out to sea.'

I looked out on the Solent, remembering my voyage home from Yorkshire in 1541, all that had happened afterwards. I shivered.

'Are you all right, Master Shardlake?'

'A goose walking over my grave.'

AT THE FOOT OF the hill the road was raised on earthen banks, passing over an area of marsh and mud with a narrow stretch of water in the middle spanned by a stone bridge. On the far side, where the land rose again, was a soldiers' camp. Men sat outside the tents, sewing or carving, a few playing cards or dice. On the bridge soldiers stood inspecting the contents of the cart in front of us.

'This is the only link between Portsea Island and the mainland,' Hobbey said. 'If the French were to take it the island would be cut off.'

'Our guns will sink their fleet before they land,' David said confidently. Absorbed in the view, he seemed to have forgotten about Lamkin, and his mother's attack on him. Yet there was something haunted in his face.

A soldier came up and asked our business. 'Legal matters, in Portsmouth,' Hobbey answered briefly. The soldier glanced at Dyrick's and my robes and waved us on. We clattered over the bridge.

We rode across the island, along a dusty lane between an avenue of trees. Hugh turned to Hobbey, unaccustomed deference in his voice. 'Sir, may we ride across and get a closer look at the ships in the Haven?'

'Yes, please, Father,' David added eagerly.

Hobbey looked at him indulgently. 'Very well.'

We turned along a side lane and rode towards the water. We passed close to a large dockyard where dozens of men were labouring. There were several wooden derricks and a number of low structures including a long, narrow one which I recognized as a rope-walk, where lengths of rope would be coiled together to form thicker ones, dozens of feet long if necessary. Piles of large tree trunks lay around, and carpenters were busy sawing wood into different shapes and sizes. A small ship stood on a bed of mud carved into the shore, supported by thick poles. Men were working hard repairing it. There was a constant sound of hammering.

A little to the south of the dock we turned aside from the lane and halted the horses by a mudflat next to the sea, from which a welcome breeze came. There was a smell of salt and rot, the mud spattered with green seaweed. Here we had a clear view of the ships across the water. Eight of the galleasses, sixty feet long and each with an iron-tipped battering ram in front and several cannon protruding from gun ports at the side, moved across the calm, blue-green water, smooth and fast despite their boxy shape. They were using both sails and long lines of oars. I heard the regular beat of drums marking time for the oarsmen. They made impressive speed. We jumped as one fired its guns, puffs of black smoke rising from their mouths followed by loud reverberating cracks. Then it turned round, astonishingly fast.

Dyrick gave it an anxious look. Hugh gave a little mocking laugh. 'Do not worry, sir, they are only practising. There are no gunballs in the cannon. No need to be afraid.' Dyrick glared at him.

'It is their manoeuvrability that makes them so dangerous to an enemy,' Hugh said with pride.

My attention was focused on the four great warships, anchored at some distance from each other in the harbour. Their sails were reefed now and they rode gently on the calm water. They were enormous, like castles on the sea, dwarfing the galleasses. A big rowing boat was tied to the stern of each, no doubt for transporting men and supplies from shore. It was an extraordinary sight, one I realized few would ever witness. The warships were beautiful, with their clean lines and perfect balance on the water. The sides of the soaring fore- and aftercastles, and the waists in the middle, were brightly painted, the Tudor colours of green and white predominating. Each had four enormous masts, the largest rising a hundred and fifty feet into the air, flags of England and the Tudor dynasty flying at the top. The largest warship made my head spin to look at it; I guessed it was the Great Harry , the King's flagship. A massive flag bearing the royal arms flew from the aftercastle. I saw tiny figures moving to and fro along the decks, and other ant-like figures clambering in the mesh of rigging. High in the masts I made out more men standing in little circular nests.