C.J. Sansom - Heartstone

'Worse than the Thames banks,' Barak agreed.

Carswell looked at me. 'You'll remember what you said about helping me, sir? When you get back to London?'

I smiled. 'I had not forgotten.'

'I yearn to be home—I hate this waiting, sitting amid this stench like pigs in a sty. We're not allowed into town without passes, and I hear the sailors must stay on the ships. They fear we might fight, or disturb all those merchants negotiating with each other to get the best price for our poor rations. But I am told much of a soldier's life is spent in waiting.'

'So you haven't been on a ship yet?' Barak asked.

'No.' For once Carswell's tone was serious. 'One of our men near fainted when he saw the ships close to—many of us had never seen the sea.' He laughed uneasily. 'Imagine trying to stage that sight in a play. The warships and those galleasses. They're manned by criminals and beggars, not strong enough for such work. Some collapse and die, bodies are brought ashore in the evenings.' His voice took on its jesting note again. 'Do you think, sir, if I brought you before our commander the Earl of Suffolk in your lawyer's robes, you might argue a case for me to leave the army? Say the prospect of danger does not agree with me?'

I laughed. 'Alas, Carswell, the powers of lawyers do not extend so far.'

We were in among the tents now, stepping over guy ropes. Some of the soldiers from the company waved or shouted greetings. Sulyard, sitting outside his tent carving something on his knife handle, gave me a nasty stare. Carswell halted before a large tent, the cross of St George on a little pole at the top. Leacon had just stepped out. 'Captain, sir,' Carswell called. 'A visitor.'

Leacon wore a round helmet, half-armour over his surcoat, his sword at his waist. The tent flap opened and I saw the Welsh boy Tom Llewellyn carrying a document case. Leacon's expression had been anxious, but his face relaxed into a smile as he saw us.

'Master Shardlake! Jack Barak!'

'We have come to Portsmouth on business. There is a hold-up at the gates, young Carswell saw us and brought us over.'

'Good! How is your wife, Jack?'

'Very well, according to her last letter.'

'George,' I said, 'there is something I would speak with you about.'

'About your steward who said he was at Flodden? I have some news there.'

'Have you? I would like to hear it. And George, there is someone else I seek, who may be in Portsmouth. It is important. A man called Philip West, who I believe is an officer on the King's ships.'

'Then he'll be here. Did you hear Lord Lisle's ships had just arrived? There was a skirmish near the Channel Islands. But listen, I must leave now, there is a meeting of the captains in the town: I have to join Sir Franklin Giffard there.' He turned to Llewellyn. 'I am taking young Tom here with me: many of the captains are from Wales and he knows some Welsh from his father.' He raised his eyebrows. 'Diplomacy.' The boy smiled nervously. 'Could you meet me in town later?' Leacon asked. 'Perhaps this afternoon.'

'Certainly. We have a meeting at ten, but after that will be free.'

'The Red Lion tavern for lunch then, say at twelve?'

'I should be pleased.'

'I will arrange for one of the officers I am meeting to stay behind to talk to you. He has an interesting tale to tell about good Master Coldiron.'

'What news of your company? How fare you, Llewellyn?'

'Well, sir. Though those ships fair affrighted us when we saw them.'

'Ay,' Leacon agreed. 'If the men are to go on them, they need to accustom themselves to being at sea. But those in charge keep arguing how best to use us, and nothing is done, for all they tell me how they value us as principal archers.' He sighed heavily. 'Come, will you walk with me back to the road?'

We made our way through the rows of tents. 'What news of the French?' I asked quietly.

He drew a little ahead of Llewellyn. 'Bad. Over two hundred ships gathering at the French ports, packed with thirty thousand soldiers. Lord Lisle encountered a host of their galleys off the Channel Islands last week. The weather turned bad, though, and there was no real action. We are going to need every man if they land here.' He looked at me seriously. 'Those galleys of theirs are large and fast, much superior to our galleasses, and rowed by slaves experienced in Mediterranean warfare. They have two dozen.' He gave me a sombre look. 'You know how many such galleys we have?' I shook my head. 'One.'

'When might they come?'

'A week, perhaps two. Much will depend on the weather, as always at sea.'

I was eager to talk about Coldiron, but saw Leacon was keen to move on. We were beyond the tents now. Then Barak pointed to where the men were practising at the butts and laughed. 'Look at that!'

Hugh and David, in defiance of Hobbey's orders, had dismounted and joined the archers. Hugh was bending to a longbow which he must have borrowed, and as I watched he sent an arrow flying. It hit the oyster shell, shattering it into a dozen pieces. The soldiers clapped. I saw Sulyard in the group, his enemy Pygeon standing at a little distance. A man at the other end of the range hurried up to the butts and fixed another oyster shell to the centre.

'Look at that fellow, sir,' Llewellyn said admiringly to Leacon.

Hugh handed the bow to David. David's arrow just missed the oyster shell and he scowled.

'Who are those lads?' Leacon asked curiously.

'My host's son and his ward.' I saw Hobbey and Dyrick talking agitatedly to Snodin the whiffler, who stood with hands on hips, an aggressive expression on his red face. Hugh bent to the bow again as we walked across to Hobbey and Dyrick.

'Get them away from there!' Hobbey was shouting to Snodin, more angry and agitated than I had ever seen him. 'Tell your men to stop their practice now .'

'But they have been ordered to practise,' Snodin replied in his deep voice, 'by Sir Franklin Giffard himself.' He waved a meaty hand at Leacon as we came up. 'Here, talk to Master Petty-Captain if you like.'

Leacon gave Hobbey and Dyrick a curt nod, then watched as Hugh sent another arrow flying to the oyster shell. Again he broke it. Hobbey grabbed Leacon's arm. 'Are you the captain of this rabble? Get my boys away from those butts. They are defying my explicit orders—'

Leacon pushed Hobbey's arm away. 'I do not care for your manners, sir,' he said sharply. 'Boys they may be, but few enough adults could pull a longbow like that, let alone shoot so well. They must be very well practised.'

'They'd make good recruits,' Snodin said maliciously. 'Especially the taller lad.'

'You insolent dog,' Hobbey snapped.

Dyrick spoke up. 'Captain Leacon, we have an appointment in the city with the feodary of Hampshire. We shall be late.' He looked over to the gates. The obstruction had been cleared and the carts were going slowly in. The bull's cage was just entering.

'I think you had better call Hugh and David over,' I said quietly to Leacon.

'For you, Master Shardlake, certainly. You keep a civil tongue in your head.' He called to the archers. 'Cease firing! You two young fellows, over here!'

Reluctantly, Hugh handed the bow back to its owner, and he and David walked over to us. Leacon smiled at them. 'Well done, lads. Fine shooting.' He looked at Hugh. 'You hit the mark twice in succession, young fellow.'

'We practise every day.' Hugh was staring at Leacon with something like awe. 'Sir, will we repel the French?'

' You won't!' Hobbey, still angry, grabbed him by the shoulder. David flinched and backed away, a frightened expression on his face. So he had not forgotten about yesterday after all.

Hugh turned on Hobbey, his face suddenly red with fury. 'Let me go!' For a second I thought he might lash out.

'Hugh,' I said quietly.