Heartstone

WE FILED OUT OF the hall into the sunshine. The jurors walked down the drive in a group, while most of the villagers gathered round Ettis's wife. She had broken down and stood sobbing. I walked across to her.

'Mistress Ettis,' I said quietly.

She looked up and wiped her face. 'You spoke up for my husband,' she said quietly. 'I thank you.'

'I can do little now, but I promise, when he comes to trial at Winchester, I will ensure all is fairly done. There is no actual evidence against him,' I added encouragingly.

'What should we do about going to Requests about our woodlands, sir? My husband would want us to continue.'

Behind me I saw Dyrick and Fulstowe standing on the steps, watching. I looked round the villagers; some seemed cowed, but many had a defiant aspect. I said, loudly, 'I think it vital you lodge your case. You must not let what happened today intimidate you from taking action. I think that was partly the intention; I do not consider a jury can convict Master Ettis. Appoint someone else from the village to lead you until he is freed.' I took a deep breath, then added, 'Send the papers to me, I will fight the case for you.'

'Listen to my master,' Barak added approvingly. 'Fight back.'

Mistress Ettis nodded. Then everyone turned at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. A messenger in royal livery was riding fast up the drive. He came to a halt at the steps, dismounted, and approached Fulstowe. They spoke briefly, then the messenger went inside. The steward hesitated, then walked down the steps to us. Dyrick stayed where he was. I had, reluctantly, to admire Fulstowe's courage; there were near twenty villagers there, in hostile and angry mood, but he marched straight up to me. 'Master Shardlake, that messenger has a packet of letters for you. He is waiting in the kitchen.' He turned to the villagers. 'Go, all of you, unless you wish to be arrested for trespass.'

One or two men glared back at him. One called out, 'You sure that mad boy didn't kill his mother?'

'Ay,' another added. 'He's possessed by a demon, that one.'

'No!' Mistress Ettis spoke up. 'He is but a child, leave him alone!' Then she said loudly to Fulstowe, 'It is not the boy that has sent my husband to jail, it is you.' She pointed to Dyrick. 'And that black crow!'

There was fresh murmuring. A man bent down, picked up a pebble from the driveway, and shied it at Dyrick. He jumped aside, then turned and ran into the house. The group laughed.

I raised my hands. 'Go! Do not make a disturbance! And make no trouble for the jurors in the village. Lodge your complaint with me at Lincoln's Inn!' I looked at Fulstowe. 'Now, master steward, I will see this messenger. Come, Barak.'

* * *

THE MESSENGER was sitting at the kitchen table, where Ursula had given him some beer with bread and cheese. He stood and bowed at our entrance, then handed me a packet of letters. I opened it: inside was a letter addressed to me in Warner's writing, one from Guy, and a third for Barak, which I handed to him. 'Thank you, fellow,' I said to the messenger. 'How far have you come?'

'From Portchester Castle. The royal party arrived there yesterday. Master Warner said to come at once, there have been delays with private letters. The ones from London are a few days old.'

I thanked him again. 'Let us go to your room,' I said to Barak. 'Get some privacy.'

As we walked round the side of the house he said, 'There could have been trouble with the villagers there.'

'I know.'

He laughed scornfully. 'Did you see Dyrick twist and run when that pebble was thrown? He's like many who are free with bold words, he ran at a hint of violence. I wish young Feaveryear had been here to see it.'

'I was never able to fathom why Feaveryear was sent away so suddenly. It had something to do with Hugh and David, I am sure.'

He looked at me seriously. 'You finally shot your bolt with the family in there. You were hard on them.'

'I had to do something for Ettis. I thought if they knew how Abigail was regarded we might get a verdict of murder by persons unknown. Priddis helped stop that. Did you hear what he said to me afterwards?'

'Yes. He's dangerous.'

'I know. I wonder whether Mistress Ettis has the stomach to take the issue of the woods forward? I suspect the villagers will rely on her.'

'She seemed a woman of spirit to me. Reminded me a little of Tamasin, only older. Now come, let's get these letters open.'

In his room, Barak tore open Tamasin's letter and read it eagerly, while I perused Guy's. It was dated four days previously, the twelfth of July:

Dear Matthew,

I have received your letter. You will be pleased to hear that Tamasin continues very well, though increasingly tired as her time approaches. At home Coldiron has been surly since I called him to order, yet not impertinent. Josephine seems to have gained a little confidence—I heard her tell young Simon, who was saying again how he wished he could go to fight, that war is a wicked thing and she wished heartily God would stir up a universal peace among his people. I was pleased to see it, though it turned my mind back to that time she swore in French.

I have visited Ellen again. On the surface she seems returned to normal, cheerful and working with patients as though nothing had happened. She told me she was in good sort and I need not call again. But she did not mention you at all, and I sensed much hidden feeling under the smooth surface.

As I was leaving the Bedlam, Hob Gebons came to me and said that two days before Keeper Shawms had a visit from Warden Metwys. Gebons, knowing your concern to be informed of all that might concern Ellen, tried to overhear, but they spoke low and he could hear little. He told me though that at one point voices were raised: Metwys shouted that 'she' must be moved if her mouth is no longer safe, and Shawms replied you had the Queen's protection and he would not do it.

Matthew, I think you should return, as soon as you can.

Your loving friend,

Guy

I looked up at Barak. 'What does Tamasin say?' He smiled. 'That she is bored, and tired, and heavy. She wants me home.' He took a long breath of relief. 'What about Guy?'

I passed the letter over to Barak and opened the one from Warner. It was dated yesterday, he had got it to me fast. When I opened the letter I understood why; inside was a little folded note in the Queen's own handwriting. I broke the seal. It was dated the day before, 15 July, from Portchester.

Dear Matthew,

I have received your letter, and was shocked to hear of the death of poor Mistress Hobbey. It seems there is little or nothing against Master Hobbey, and if that poor boy does not wish to proceed we should not entangle him in the coils of Wards at this time. I know that Mistress Calfhill will agree.

We have just arrived at Portchester Castle. The King will be travelling to Portsmouth in two days. Latest reports of French numbers and the progress along the Channel of their ships are very troubling. You should leave now, return to London.

I turned to Warner's letter; it was brief, the script without his usual care and written in a hurry.

Dear Matthew,

The court is arrived at Portchester Castle. I enclose a letter from the Queen; we agree you should return to London as soon as possible. Please accept Brother Dyrick's offer on costs. I hope and trust the inquest has found the killer. On that subject, I heard the inquest's verdict into Master Mylling was one of accidental death.

Here the King is much concerned by the approach of the French fleet. I may be unable to write further till this desperate crisis is resolved, one way or another.