Heartstone

I laughed. 'She's right. You are incorrigible.'

* * *

WE WENT TO a tavern near Newgate jail frequented by law students and jobbing solicitors. It was busy already. A group of students sat drinking with half a dozen apprentices round a large table. The barriers of class, I had noticed, were becoming blurred among young men of military age. They were well on in their cups, singing the song that had become popular after our defeat of the Scots at Solway Moss three years before.

'King Jamey, Jemmy, Jocky my Jo;

Ye summoned our King, why did ye so—'

And now apparently the Scots are waiting to fall on us, I thought, reinforced by thousands of French troops. Hardly surprising since the King had been chivalrously waging war on their infant Queen Mary for three years. Looking at the group, I saw an older man among them, and recognized the scarred face and eyepatch of my steward. Coldiron, his face flushed, was singing along lustily. I remembered it was his night off.

'Go to the hatch and get me a beer and a pie,' I told Barak. 'I'm going to sit there.' I nodded to a table screened from the body of the tavern by a partition.

Barak returned with two mugs of beer and two mutton pies. He sat down heavily, and looked at me apologetically. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'Tamasin is in a great chafe.'

'She's right, I know. I shouldn't have given that arsehole a flea in his ear. Soldiers are touchy. Did you hear—a band of German mercenaries made a riot up at Islington this morning? Wanted more pay to go to Scotland.'

'The English troops are going quietly enough.'

'Can you get me out of it?' he asked seriously.

'I hope so. You know I'll do what I can.' I shook my head. 'I saw a hundred men from the Trained Bands setting out from Westminster Stairs earlier. And at Lincoln's Inn I heard there are twelve thousand men in the navy. Sixty thousand militia on the Channel coast, thirty thousand in Essex. Twenty thousand on the Scottish border. Dear God.'

Beyond the partition, one of the carousing youngsters shouted, 'We'll find every last damned French spy in London! Slimy gamecock swine, they're no match for plain Englishmen!'

'He'd feel different if he had a wife and child.' Barak took a bite of his pie and a long swig of beer.

'If you were their age again and single, would you not be singing along with them?'

'No. I've never run with the crowd, particularly if it's heading over a cliff.' Barak wiped his mouth, took another swig.

I looked at his near-empty tankard. 'Slow down.'

'I don't drink much now. You know that. It was that which parted me from Tamasin. Not that it's always easy. It's all right for you to lecture that never drinks enough to drown a mouse.'

I smiled sadly. It was true I drank little. Even now I remembered my father, after my mother died, spending his evenings in the tavern. I would be in bed and would hear him being helped upstairs by the servants, stumbling on the steps, mumbling nonsense. I had sworn never to end like that. I shook my head. 'What did you find out today?'

'I think there's something odd about Michael Calfhill's death,' he said in a low voice. 'I talked to Michael's neighbours, saw the local constable. He's an old gabblemouth, so I took him for a drink. He said Michael had a spot of trouble with some local apprentices. Corner boys, standing around looking tough, with eyes peeled for French spies.'

'What sort of trouble?'

'The constable heard them shouting after Michael as he passed. Apparently the lads didn't like the way Michael looked at them.'

'What way?'

'As though he'd have liked to get into their codpieces.'

My eyes widened. 'There mustn't be a word of that at the hearing. What did the neighbours say?'

'There's a young couple in the room below Michael's. They didn't see him much, just heard him on the stairs, sometimes pacing in his room. The night he died they were woken by a crash. The husband went upstairs but couldn't get an answer, so he called the constable. He barged the door open and found Michael swinging from the roof-beam. Michael had cut a strip from the bedsheet and made a noose, then stood on a chair and kicked it away. That was what made the bang.' Barak leaned forward, animated now. 'I asked the young couple if they heard any footsteps going up or down the stairs. They didn't, but the room's only one storey up. And the constable said the window was open.'

'It's summer, that's no surprise.'

'I'm just saying someone could have got in while Michael was asleep, strangled him, then strung him up.' Barak smiled, his old conspiratorial smile. 'We can get into the room tomorrow if you like, take a look. It hasn't been let. The constable left the key with the young couple. I told them I might be back with someone.'

'I'll think about it. What about that vicar?'

'He's still at the same church, St Evelyn's in Fall Lane. Master Broughton. He wasn't there, the verger said to come back tomorrow at eleven.'

I smiled. 'Well done. We might have a witness after all. And we need one.' I told him about my visit to the Court of Wards. 'You got off lightly if you only had to pay out some some beer money. It cost me three shillings in good silver to get Mylling's help. We'll go and see the vicar tomorrow. And, yes, I'll have a look at Michael's lodging. Though his mother said the note was definitely in his hand.' I frowned. 'I wonder if whatever he found in Hampshire might have sent him out of his wits.'

The voices of the gang beyond the partition had grown louder, and now I heard Coldiron's voice, a grating shout. 'Men nowadays are too womanly! Sleeping out's all right! Get some branches and put blankets over them and you're as snug as a pig!'

'I'd rather huggle with my pretty pussy!'

Coldiron shouted above the laughter. 'Plenty of pussy in the army! Camp followers! Dirty girls, but they know what they're doing! Come lads, who's going to get me another drink?'

'You made a bad choice there,' Barak said.

'I know. I'm going to get rid of him as soon as I can find someone else.'

Barak drained his mug. 'D'you want another beer? Don't worry, this'll be my last.'

'All right. But don't catch Coldiron's eye.'

While Barak fetched the drinks I sat thinking. When he returned I said, 'I found out something about Ellen at the Court of Wards. She has never been registered as a lunatic.'

'Then how did she get to the Bedlam?'

'That's what I intend to find out. Someone has been paying. Warden Metwys is in it, he has to be. And all the Bedlam wardens back nineteen years. The wardenship is an office of profit, sold to courtiers.'

Barak said, 'You'll end up more involved with her than ever.'

I shook my head. 'I won't. I can't.'

'Look, at the moment Ellen's got somewhere to live, a job of sorts. If you delve into family secrets, whoever's been paying the Bedlam might stop. Then the warden might kick her out. Where does she go then—your house?'

I sighed, for he spoke sense. 'I'll move quietly, carefully. But if I go to Portsmouth I can't miss the chance to find out what happened at Rolfswood.'

'Do you think you will?'

'If the case is allowed to go ahead next Monday, probably. Listen, tomorrow I will go and see Alderman Carver about this mess you've got yourself into. He owes me a favour. Then we can visit this vicar, see what he knows about the Curteys family. Bess will have to attend the hearing on Monday, by the way. I'm seeing her on Saturday. I don't want her to know about Michael giving those corner boys looks. If he did.'

'Maybe they decided to kill him.'

'For giving them looks? Don't be silly.'

'What if we don't come up with anything against Hobbey from the vicar?'

'Then it's more difficult. I'll have to rely on the severity of Michael's allegations and throw in the fact the wardship was put through very hurriedly. If need be I will say the Hobbey family need to answer interrogatories. If the court agrees, I'll probably have to go down to Hampshire and take them myself. I'll see Dyrick after we've found out whether there is any useful witness evidence.'