Heartstone

I was a hundred yards from the nearest tent when a soldier stepped in front of me, halberd raised. I halted. 'What do you want, sir?' the man asked roughly.

'I need to speak to someone in the army quartermaster's office. The matter is urgent. My name is Serjeant Matthew Shardlake, of Lincoln's Inn.'

'Wait here.' As at Portchester—had my meeting with the Queen really been only a few hours ago?—I was left waiting as the soldier disappeared among the tents. I looked over at South Sea Castle; the cluster of bright figures still stood looking out to sea. I heard distant cannonfire from out on the water; no doubt the French galleys firing on our ships; I shuddered at the thought of the huge target the Great Harry would make. The Mary Rose, too, where Philip West would be.

Two captains in half-armour emerged from the nearest tents. They passed me, talking fast and excitedly. 'Why has d'Annebault brought so few galleys forward? Most are still by the Wight shore—'

The soldier reappeared, a second beside him, walking fast towards me. He came up to me and spoke, this time in a respectful tone. 'You're to come with me, sir. This fellow will take care of your horse.' The second soldier placed a mounting block beside Oddleg for me to descend. I felt a wave of relief; I had doubted a busy official would find the time to see me.

I dismounted. 'Thank you,' I said. 'I will take but a little of his time.'

The soldier nodded and led me away to the tents. Some tent flaps were closed, but where they were open I saw soldiers and officials sitting at trestle tables, talking animatedly. I was led to a large conical tent in the centre of the encampment, cream-coloured with blue patterning at the top, the flap half-closed. The soldier ushered me in with a wave of his arm.

In the dimness inside a man sat at a trestle table, his head bent over papers. A bell and a sconce of candles stood on the table. The man was well dressed, his doublet green silk.

I took off my cap. 'Thank you for seeing me, Master Quartermaster,' I said. 'I crave—' Then, as the man raised his head, I broke off abruptly.

Richard Rich smiled. 'Good,' he said quietly, satisfaction in his voice. 'Welcome to my working quarters. So you came for the boy. Or, I should say, the girl. I thought you might.'

I stared at him. 'Where is Emma?'

He smiled, again showing his sharp little teeth. 'Quite safe, for now. She is with Captain Leacon's company, who are now under the trusted care of Master Philip West. On the Mary Rose. And now, Master Shardlake, I think we must have a proper talk.'

Chapter Forty-four

STOOLS WERE SET in front of the trestle table; Rich motioned me to sit. Then he leaned forward, linked his small, manicured hands together, and rested his chin on them. His sleeves rustled. His expression was childishly mocking, though his grey eyes were cold and hard.

'I hear the French galleys have retreated,' he said conversationally. 'My servant just brought me word. I think today has just been a skirmish before the main battle.' His tone was still smoothly pleasant. 'Though tomorrow it may be a different matter.'

'I hear our guns can keep them out of Portsmouth Haven.'

'Yes. But if they were to bottle our fleet up there—which perhaps is what they sought to do today—or sink it, they could use their galleys to make a landing on Portsea Island. You will have seen the cannon being dragged up, and the stakes set in the ground to protect the archers.' He paused and held my gaze a moment. 'Well, then there may be a great fight. Perhaps right out there on the seafront.' He nodded towards the tent flap. I did not reply. I thought, let him talk, see what he reveals. Does he know how much I have guessed? He must do, or he would not have had me brought here. The skin under Rich's eye twitched and I realized just how much he was on edge.

'To business,' he said abruptly. 'That girl, eh? Coming here and enlisting as a boy. What a strange thing to do.'

'You know Hugh Curteys is really Emma?'

'Yes. Though only since yesterday, when my old associate Sir Quintin Priddis told me, just before I came out to you at the Guildhall. He told me because he was afraid you had discovered it. He is implicated in the fraud.'

'I know.'

'When did you find out?'

'Today. It was my unmasking her that sent Emma Curteys fleeing to Portsmouth. She had always wanted to enlist. Now she has nothing to lose.'

Rich inclined his head, like a predatory bird. 'Only today, Master Shardlake? I would have thought you would have ferreted that amusing fact out before. I have overestimated you.' He thought a few seconds. 'I imagine young Curteys is another of those people you try to do good works for, hey? Like Elizabeth Wentworth when we first met, or old Master Wrenne in York?'

'If you know Hugh Curteys is really Emma, why have you let her on board the Mary Rose?'

He smiled. 'It was an opportunity, Brother Shardlake. I spend my life watching for opportunities. That is why I am a privy councillor. With my responsibilities for supply I see the daily reports on manpower; how many men have deserted, or fallen ill, how many new ones have come forward. Two hours ago I was brought this.' He flicked a finger through the documents on his desk, then pulled out a list and passed it to me. A name leaped out at me. Hugh Curteys, 18 yrs, Hoyland. Company of Sir Franklin Giffard.

'You may imagine,' Rich said, 'how my eyes widened too at that name. And knowing from Priddis that he—or rather she—was one of your protegees, I wondered whether you might follow her. Had you not, I was not sure what to do with you. Since you ignored my first warning from the apprentices.' His tone had turned vicious. 'If you had some fatal accident your friend Barak would be on the case, and no doubt involve your patron the Queen. You have to watch Catherine Parr, she is no fool.' His eye twitched again. 'But now, I think, we may come to an agreement. That is why, though I knew Emma Curteys' true identity, I allowed her to enlist.'

'You will use her to make a bargain with me.'

Rich leaned forward. 'After seeing the list I rode straight into Portsmouth. The French fleet had appeared, the King had left the Great Harry, soldiers were milling around, waiting to go on the ships. Some of the senior officers had come ashore to ensure every ship got its correct complement, including Philip West.' He looked at me.

'Yes,' I said quietly. 'West.'

'Your friend Captain Leacon's archers were due to go on the Great Harry, but I spoke to West and arranged for them to go with him on the Mary Rose instead. So he can keep an eye on Emma Curteys for me. Then I came back here to see if you would follow her. She matters nothing to me, of course, she never did. Those corner boys I set to attack you failed to make themselves clear. For which they were punished.' His icy eyes stared into mine. 'The case you were meant to drop was not Hugh Curteys'. It was the other one my agent, Master Mylling of the Court of Wards, told me you had been enquiring about.'

'Ellen Fettiplace,' I said heavily. 'That is your connection to West. It was you with him at Rolfswood nineteen years ago.'

Rich leaned back in his chair again. His face was impassive now. 'So you know.'

'When I realized you had no connection to the Curteys case, I knew it had to be that.'

'Who else knows?' he asked abruptly.

'Barak,' I lied. 'And I have sent him back to London.'

Rich sat, considering. Then a voice called from outside, 'Sir?'

A spasm of annoyance crossed Rich's face. 'Come in, Colin,' he said heavily.

The door opened and a large, heavy-faced young man, the letters RR emblazoned on his tunic, entered with a taper. Rich gestured to the sconce, and the servant lit the candles, illuminating the tent with yellow light. 'What news?' Rich asked.