Heartstone

'You think I do not know my own son's hand?' she asked angrily. 'He wrote this, as I told the coroner at the inquest, before the jury and all the curious public.'

'Come, Bess,' the Queen said gently. 'Master Shardlake needs to ask these questions.'

'I know, your majesty, but it is hard.' She looked at me. 'I apologize, sir.'

'I understand. Was the hearing before the London coroner?'

'Yes, Master Grice. A hard, stupid man.'

I smiled sadly. 'That he is.'

'The coroner asked me if my son had seemed unwell and I said yes, his behaviour had been strange lately. They brought in a verdict of suicide. I did not say anything about Hampshire.'

'Why not?'

She raised her head and looked at me again, defiantly. 'Because I had decided to bring that matter to the Queen. And now I have come for justice, by the Queen's good grace.' She sat back. I realized there was a thread of steel under Bess's pain.

I asked quietly, 'What do you think your son found in Hampshire that could have driven him to kill himself?'

'God rest and quiet his soul, I do not know, but I believe it was something terrible.'

I did not answer. I wondered if Bess needed to believe that now, had turned pain outwards into anger.

'Show Master Shardlake the summons from the court,' the Queen said.

Bess reached into her dress and pulled out a large paper, folded many times, and handed it to me. It was a summons from the Court of Wards, ordering all parties with business in the matter of the wardship of Hugh William Curteys to attend the court on the twenty-ninth of June, in five days' time. It was addressed to Michael Calfhill as petitioner—they would not know he was dead—and I noted a copy had also been delivered to Vincent Dyrick at the Inner Temple. It was dated near three weeks before.

'It reached me only last week,' Bess said. 'It arrived at my son's lodgings, was taken to the coroner, then he sent it to me as Michael's next of kin.'

'Have you seen a copy of Michael's actual application? It is called a Bill of Information. I need to know what he said.'

'No, sir. I know only what I have told you.'

I looked at Bess and the Queen. I decided to be direct. 'Whatever the application says, it is Michael's, based on facts within his knowledge. But Michael is dead, and the court might not hear the case without Michael there to give evidence.'

'I know nothing of the law,' Bess said, 'only what happened to my son.'

The Queen said, 'I did not think the courts were sitting, I heard they were dissolved early because of the war.'

'Wards and Augmentations are still sitting.' The courts that brought revenue to the King, they would sit all summer. The judges there were hard men. I turned to the Queen. 'Sir William Paulet is Master of the Court of Wards. I wonder if he is sitting himself, or has other duties connected with the war. He is a senior councillor.'

'I asked Master Warner. Sir William goes to Portsmouth soon as governor, but he will be sitting in court next week.'

'Will they make Master Hobbey come?' Bess asked.

'I imagine Dyrick will attend on his behalf at the first hearing. What the court will make of Michael's application will depend on what it says and whether any witnesses can be found to help us. You mentioned that when Master Hobbey applied for the wardship Michael sought the help of the Curteyses' vicar.'

'Yes. Master Broughton. Michael said he was a good man.'

'Do you know whether Michael saw him recently?'

She shook her head. 'I asked him that. He said not.'

'Did anyone else know about this application?' I asked. 'A friend of Michael's perhaps.'

'He was a stranger in London. He had no friends here. Apart from me,' she added sadly.

'Can you find out?' the Queen asked. 'Can you take the case? On Bess's behalf?'

I hesitated. All I could see here was a bundle of intense emotional connections. Between the Queen and Bess, Bess and Michael, Michael and those children. No facts, no evidence, maybe no case at all. I looked at the Queen. She wanted me to help her old servant. I thought of the boy Hugh who was at the centre of it all, only a name to me, but alone and unprotected.

'Yes,' I answered. 'I will do the best I can.'

Chapter Four

I LEFT THE QUEEN an hour later, with the suicide note and the summons in my pocket. I had arranged with Mistress Calfhill for her to call on me later in the week so that I could take a full statement.

Warner was waiting in the presence chamber. He led me up a flight of winding steps to his office, a cramped room with shelves of papers and parchments tied in pink ribbon.

'So you will take the case,' he said.

I smiled. 'I cannot refuse the Queen.'

'Nor I. She has asked me to write to John Sewster, the Court of Wards attorney. I will say next Monday's hearing should go forward, even though Calfhill is dead. I will say the Queen wishes it, in the interests of justice. He will tell Sir William so, and that should stop him from throwing the case out. Paulet is a man for whom political advantage is all—he would not wish to upset her.' Warner looked at me seriously, fingering his long beard. 'But that is as far as we can go, Brother Shardlake. I do not want to press the connection to the Queen too far. We do not know what lies at the bottom of this case. Maybe nothing, but if Michael Calfhill did find something serious, it may be a matter the Queen should not be publicly involved in.'

'I understand.' I respected Warner. He had worked as an attorney in the Queen's household for over twenty years, since Catherine of Aragon's time, and I knew he had come to have a particular affection for Catherine Parr, as most did who worked for her.

'You have been given a hard task,' he said sympathetically. 'Only five more days to the hearing, and no witnesses apart from Mistress Calfhill that we know of.'

'With the end of the law term I have time.'

He nodded slowly. 'The Court of Wards still sits. There are wards and money to be gathered in.' Like any lawyer with integrity, he spoke of Wards with contempt.

'I will do what I can to find witnesses,' I told him. 'There is that vicar who worked with Michael six years ago. My clerk will help me, he is skilled in such matters. If there is anyone, we will find them. But first I must go to Wards, see what Michael's Bill of Information said.'

'And you will need to talk to Dyrick.'

'After I've seen the papers, and found what witnesses there are.'

Warner said, 'I have met Dyrick.' The legal world of London was small, everyone knew everyone else by reputation at least. 'A strong opponent. No doubt he will say the case is a meaningless accusation from a madman.'

'That is why I wish to see more of how the land lies before visiting him. Tell me, what do you make of Mistress Calfhill?'

'Full of grief. Confused. Maybe looking for a scapegoat for her son's death. But I am sure you will do everything possible to root out the truth of it.' He smiled sadly. 'You were afraid it was politics. I saw that on your face when you came in.'

'Yes, Brother Warner, I fear I was.'

'The Queen always honours her promises, Brother Shardlake,' he answered reprovingly. 'And will always help an old servant in trouble.'

'I know. I should have trusted.'

'Queen Catherine holds old friends in more kindness than any since the first Queen Catherine.'

'Catherine of Aragon.'

'Yes. She, too, was kind, though she had her faults.'

I smiled. 'Her Catholicism.'

He looked at me seriously. 'More than that. But come, I say more than I should. Talk of politics is dangerous, even though the great men of the realm have no time for intrigue just now. Hertford, Norfolk, Gardiner—all away on military assignments. But if we get through this war, I have little doubt it will all begin again. The Catholic party does not like Queen Catherine. You have seen her book?'