Heartstone

'It'll be more comfortable when we get to Hoyland Priory.'

He took a long swig of beer. 'Watch that,' I said quietly. I realized the sight of the soldiers had reminded him again of the fate he had so narrowly escaped.

'Here's looking forward to passing time with good company,' he said with heavy sarcasm.

Dyrick and Feaveryear came in. 'May we join you, Brother Shardlake?' Dyrick asked. 'The other company seems rather rough.'

We called for food and were served some pottage, all the inn had. It was flavourless, nasty-looking pieces of gristle floating on the greasy surface. We ate in silence. A group of girls entered, wearing low-cut dresses. The carters hallooed and banged on the tables, and soon the girls were sitting on their laps. Barak looked on with interest, Dyrick with cynical amusement and Feaveryear with disapproval.

'Not enjoying the spectacle, Sam?' Dyrick asked him with a smile.

'No, sir. I think I will go upstairs to bed. I am tired.'

Feaveryear walked slowly away. I saw him look at the girls from the corner of his eyes. Dyrick laughed.

'He can't help hoping to see a pair of bubbies, for all his godliness,' he said, then added sharply, 'though Sam is keen and sharp enough to help ensure your case against the Hobbeys is shown for the nonsense it is.'

I looked over the room, refusing to rise to his taunts. One of the carters had his face buried in a girl's bosom now. Then my attention was drawn by an officer in a soldier's white coat, sword at his waist. He sat hunched over a pile of papers at the corner of a table, seemingly oblivious to the clamour around him. I stared harder, for I seemed to recognize that shock of curly blond hair, the regular features beneath. I nudged Barak.

'That officer over there. Do you recognize him?'

Barak peered through the dim room. 'Is it Sergeant Leacon? I'm not sure. But he was discharged from the army.'

'Yes, he was. Come, let us see. Excuse us, Brother Dyrick, I think I recognize an old client.'

'Some fellow you got lands for from his landlord?'

'Exactly.'

Barak and I weaved our way among the tables. The soldier looked up as we approached, and I saw it was indeed George Leacon, the young Kentish sergeant we had met four years before in York. I had done Leacon an injustice then, but put it right by wresting his parents' farm from a grasping landlord. Leacon had been in his twenties, but now he had lines around his eyes and mouth that made him look a decade older. His blue eyes seemed more prominent too, with a strange wide stare.

'George?' I asked quietly.

His face relaxed into the broad smile I remembered. 'Master Shardlake. And Jack Barak, too.' He rose and bowed. 'What are you doing here? By Mary, it must be three years since I saw you.'

'We are travelling to Hampshire on a case. You are back in the army?'

'Ay. They recruited me last year to go to France. They needed men with military experience. Even more so now, with invasion threatened. I am taking a hundred Middlesex archers down to Portsmouth. You probably saw them in the meadow.'

'Yes. They were putting up their tents. Who was the finely dressed old fellow on the horse?'

Leacon grimaced. 'Sir Franklin Giffard, captain of the company. One of the leading men in north Middlesex. He was a soldier in France in the King's first war thirty years ago. Unfortunately he is, between ourselves—' he hesitated, then said, 'a little old for command.'

'He is certainly not young.'

'They need a gentleman of substance to keep the soldiers in awe, but I was recruited to go up there, select a hundred good longbowmen, and be his deputy. I am a petty-captain now, promoted last year on the battlefield outside Boulogne.'

'Congratulations.'

He nodded, but something blank came into his face for a moment. He said, 'How do you fare?'

'The law keeps me busy.'

'It is good to see you again.'

'Remember Tamasin Reedbourne?' Barak asked.

'Indeed I do.'

'We are married,' he said proudly. 'And a baby due next month.'

Leacon shook his hand warmly. 'Then it is you that deserves congratulation.'

'How are your parents?' I asked.

'Both well, sir. Still on the farm that is theirs thanks to you. But getting older, they find the work hard now. I should take over, but—' he grimaced again—'it is easier to get into the King's army than out of it just now.'

'Truly spoken,' Barak agreed with feeling.

Leacon gestured at the papers in front of him. 'My suppliers' accounts, for the men's food. They are supposed to be settled in every town, and I have money to pay for them. But with this evil new coinage the local merchants charge more.' He pushed the papers aside with an impatient gesture.

'How many men are going to Portsmouth?' Barak asked. 'The roads are full.'

'Six thousand are there or on the way, with many more local militia all along the south coast ready to be called out if the French invade.'

'Jesu.'

'And most of the King's ships of war are there, fifty or sixty of them, so there are several thousand sailors too. I have to get my men to Portsmouth in four days. March on the Sabbath if need be.'

'And the King himself is coming to inspect them all.'

Leacon looked at us seriously. 'Word is the French fleet is thrice the size of ours, loaded with thirty thousand soldiers. There could be a hot time coming. My company may be going to the ships, to do battle if the fleets grapple together.' He shook his head. 'I sailed on a warship last year, but many of my men have never seen a body of water larger than the village pond. But we must do all we can to beat off the invasion, we have no choice.' Something weary and almost despairing had entered Leacon's voice. He looked as though he were about to say something more, then changed the subject. 'Is it just the two of you travelling down?'

'Wish it were,' Barak answered.

'No, we travel with another lawyer and his clerk. Not easy companions.' I turned to look at Dyrick, but he had gone. 'My fellow lawyer was keen to make the journey in four or five days but it does not seem we will do that. Today we have been forever held up behind carts.'

Leacon looked at me. 'Perhaps I can help there.'

'How so?'

'I have orders to get my men to Portsmouth by the fifth. It is hard marching. I have the right to order carts aside, command the roads. If you and your companions wish to ride in front of our baggage train, that would speed your journey.'

'We should be very grateful,' I said.

'We start at five tomorrow, I warn you.'

I exchanged a glance with Barak. He nodded eagerly. The sooner we got to Hoyland, the sooner we would return home. 'We will be there,' I answered. 'Thank you.'

'I am pleased to do something to return the favour you did my family.' Leacon looked reluctantly at his documents. 'But now, if you will forgive me, I need to make some sense of these figures, then get over to camp.'

'You're not staying at the inn?'

'No. I sleep with the men.'

'Then we will leave you.'

We headed for the door. One of the carters had a girl on the floor now, the others cheering him on.

'I will call at Dyrick's room and tell him the news,' I said.

'Maybe the arsehole will show a bit of gratitude.'

'I doubt that.' I turned to him. 'Jack, what has happened to George Leacon?'

He shook his head. 'I don't know. Trouble, I can tell you that.'

I glanced back. The soldier's blond head was bent over the papers again as he ran his finger down a column of figures. His other hand, which rested on the table, trembled slightly.

Chapter Thirteen

MY BACK AND LEGS were an agony of stiffness when I reached my room. I had called on Dyrick on the way; he had been sitting on his bed, papers from the case strewn over it and on his lap. He glared at me, but when I told him of Leacon's offer he was quick to accept. 'Well, your former client has come in useful,' he said, which I took to be his nearest approach to thanks.