Heartstone: A Shardlake Novel

  ‘Yes, but when the boat brought us ashore she ran away. On the ship – I told Leacon who she was; he made her take off her jack and helmet, open her shirt. I exposed her as a woman. But it saved her. Jack, they’re all gone. Leacon, Carswell, Llewellyn, everyone we knew.’ Tears sprang to my eyes. ‘It was my fault, it was because of me that Rich put them on that ship – ’ I started to weep.

  Then Barak did something I would never have expected – he leaned forward and took me in his arms.

  LATER I WAS able to sit up. I told Barak the story – my imprisonment by West, the scenes on the aftercastle, escaping via the walkway and being helped by Emma in the water. He told me he had picked up some letters that had been delivered to Hoyland – Tamasin was well, but worried that he had not returned to London. Guy said Coldiron was becoming troublesome and surly over his protectiveness towards Josephine.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ I said.

  He did not reply for a moment, then burst out angrily, ‘Why didn’t you send me a message?’

  ‘I’m sorry. All I could think of was that our friends died because of me.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been George Leacon’s company, it would have been another, a different set of women and children mourning.’

  ‘But knowing them – ’ I shook my head desperately – ‘knowing them makes all the difference.’

  ‘It was Richard Rich put them on the Mary Rose,’ he said.

  ‘Because he knew West was there. I saw them fall into the water. They never had a chance. I should have died with them: that would have been justice.’

  ‘What good would that do? Another man dead? Me left to tell Tamasin and Guy? I thought I was going to have to do that, you know.’

  I looked at him. ‘I am sorry.’ I sighed. ‘How is David? I should have asked – I cannot seem to order my thoughts.’

  ‘Dyrick was still at the priory, he wouldn’t let me see Hobbey or David.’ Barak looked at me hard. ‘You should ride out and tell them Emma’s alive. They’ll have heard the Mary Rose went down with five hundred men by now, they’ll be worried if they don’t hear. You could get up if you’d eat something. That Edwin says you won’t.’

  ‘I can’t eat.’ I sat silent for a moment. ‘Philip West – he had the death in action he wanted.’

  ‘Action? He died because the arseholes in charge of this mess overloaded the Mary Rose and put a man who knew nothing of ships in charge. So they’re saying in the taverns, anyway.’

  ‘Just before Leacon and I went up to the aftercastle, we saw West. I looked at him – he knew I would bring him to account. I was so full of – righteousness. As I have been all along.’

  ‘Does Rich think you’re dead?’ Barak asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I thought he might come here. But no one from the court has been.’

  ‘Then with West dead, Ellen may be in danger from him. Have you thought of that?’

  I put my head in my hands. ‘I can’t think of anything but those men—’

  He reached out and grasped my hand roughly. ‘It’s time you pulled yourself together. Come, rouse yourself, there are still things to be done.’

  Chapter Forty-nine

  IT WAS ANOTHER DAY before I felt able to set out. Barak had forced me to eat, and had even gone out into Portsmouth to find new clothes for me. Gunfire still sounded frequently during the day. He told me the French had been repelled from the Isle of Wight, but the two fleets still stood facing each other, the French were sending galleys forward to try and hit our ships and tempt us out, though after the loss of the Mary Rose only our galleasses had been sent against them. In Portsmouth he managed to find a tailor, who supplied me with an outfit which made me look, if not a lawyer, at least like a gentleman.

  ‘They fear the French will try to land elsewhere,’ Barak said when he had given me the clothes. ‘There are still soldiers coming in – I heard the King has ordered a new levy from London, and more shot from the Sussex ironworks. We have to go,’ he concluded.

  We were still in the old warehouse, sitting on stools and eating pottage by the pile of sacks that had become my bed. Most of the men who had been brought to the warehouse had left now; besides me there were only three with broken limbs and one poor sailor, very young, who seemed to have lost his mind and spent most of the time weeping in a corner. I had not been able to face going outside; I dreaded the prospect of looking again at the open sea. I had thought, was this how it began for Ellen?

  ‘They want to try and refloat the Mary Rose when it’s safe,’ Barak said. ‘Bring in Italian engineers, to recover the guns, at least.’ He hesitated. ‘The topmasts can be seen above the water at low tide.’

  I kept silent. Barak put down his bowl. ‘Right,’ he said in businesslike tones. ‘You know what we’re going to do tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes. We go to Portchester Castle and I ask to see the Queen.’

  ‘I’ve confirmed she’s still there, and the King at the tents. You talk to the Queen and then we go home. The horses are still stabled at the inn. We can stop at Hoyland on the way home, if you wish.’

  I smiled sadly. ‘We have indeed changed places, have we not? It is you who thinks everything out, makes plans for me to implement.’

  ‘Always was that way really, if you ask me.’

  I laughed, but it was a hollow sound. My mind kept returning to those images of the Mary Rose sinking; sometimes they crowded at me so I could not think. It was Barak who had worked out that to ensure Ellen’s safety now I must go to the Queen, tell her Rich’s secret.

  I said, ‘West would have died on the Mary Rose whatever happened, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Of course he would,’ Barak answered with the sort of irritated patience that was starting to creep into his voice. ‘He was a senior officer, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. For his death at least I have no responsibility.’

  ‘Nor the others. It was the ship being overloaded with soldiers, the gun ports cut too close to the water, or any one of the other reasons being bruited around. Whatever it was, it wasn’t you.’

  ‘I think I will never be the same,’ I said quietly. ‘This has broken me.’

  ‘You’ll see things clearly with time; you always do.’

  ‘I hope so, Jack. I hope so.’

  WE SET OUT early the next morning. Yet another hot July day. My heart began thumping as soon as I stepped out of the warehouse.

  ‘Ships all in the same places,’ Barak said. ‘The French haven’t sent the galleys forward yet today.’

  I looked out across the Point. The fleet still rode at anchor out on the Solent, in fact more small ships had joined it, but one great ship was missing. Though it set my stomach fluttering with fear, my eyes searched out over the water. ‘You can’t see the masts from here,’ Barak said gently.

  ‘Will they send word to the families of the men who were lost? Leacon’s company came from Hertfordshire.’

  Barak looked out at the ships. ‘They won’t be able to send anyone. Returning soldiers will tell the families when this is over.’

  ‘I will tell Leacon’s parents at least, go to Kent. Dear God, I owe them that.’

  He answered gently, ‘Let’s get our business done and return to London first.’

  We walked towards the inn where Oddleg was stabled. A company of tired-looking soldiers marched past us towards the wharf. I studied their faces, then asked quietly, ‘When you were out in the city yesterday, I don’t suppose there was any sign of Emma?’

  ‘I asked around, spoke to the soldiers at the gate. No one remembers a brown-haired boy in a torn shirt. I think she’s got herself away.’

  WE FOUND THE horses and rode out through the town gate: I left Portsmouth for the last time with head bowed, unable to look back. There were new soldiers in the tents where Leacon’s company had been encamped. We spurred the horses to a canter, riding north across Portsea Island, and crossed the bridge over the muddy creek to the Hampshire mainland; then left, to Portchester Castle. I kept my ga
ze away from the seaward side of the road; I could not bear to look out there.

  I had no letter now, no authority to get into the castle. I dared not ask for Warner. But faced with the guards by the moat I found my fear and shrinking left me, my lawyer’s tricks of speech and manner came back and I told them – truthfully enough – that I was a lawyer who worked for the Queen and had been on the Mary Rose. I managed to get the name out, although it brought a fresh churning to my stomach.

  I had expected the officer in charge to be impressed, but he only looked at me dubiously. ‘What was a lawyer doing on the Mary Rose? There’s dozens round Portsmouth now saying they’re survivors of the sinking. Most are hoping for pensions. If you’re a lawyer, where’s your robe?’

  I lost my temper. ‘At the bottom of the Solent! I tell you, I was on that ship; it will haunt me all my days! Now get a message to the Queen, it’s urgent. She’ll see me. If she won’t, you can throw me in the moat for all I care.’

  He looked at me doubtfully again, but sent a soldier to take my message in. Barak clapped me on the arm. ‘That’s better,’ he said in relieved tones. ‘See, you’re getting back to your old self.’

  I did not reply. Seeing the soldiers had made me think again of Leacon and the company, the water splashing up around them as they fell and drowned. I gripped Oddleg’s reins, saw my knuckles turn white.

  HALF AN HOUR later I was shown into a richly furnished chamber. Barak had been ordered to wait in the courtyard. The Queen sat at a desk, writing. As ever, two maids-in-waiting were with her, sewing in a bay window. They rose and bowed. Robert Warner stood beside the desk. He gave me an angry stare as I bowed deeply to the Queen. She got up. I saw she still looked strained and tired.

  ‘The guard told me you were on the Mary Rose, Matthew?’ she said gently.

  ‘I was, your majesty.’ I found I was blinking back tears. At a nod from the Queen, Warner guided me to a chair. Queen Catherine stood, hands folded over her lap, looking down at me.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked softly.

  I took a deep breath, but for a moment no words came. ‘I am sorry, your majesty. I hastened to get here, but – forgive me, I find it hard to speak.’ My voice trembled.

  ‘Take your time.’ The Queen waved at her ladies. ‘Rosamond, bring some wine.’

  After a few moments I collected myself. I said, ‘I have the answer to what was done to Hugh Curteys. And to poor Michael Calfhill, who was driven to kill himself. And then – I have something to tell you about Sir Richard Rich and the woman I know in the Bedlam. Something dark and secret.’

  Warner spoke for the first time. ‘If it involves Rich, your majesty, you should be careful. Master Shardlake, is this something safe for the Queen to know?’

  I hesitated, then said, ‘Perhaps you are right. My judgement of late has been wanting, God knows.’

  The Queen smiled, that sudden touch of irrepressible humour. ‘No, Matthew, you cannot lead me this far up the path and then abandon me. Tell me everything, and I shall judge what is to be done.’

  So I told her the story of my discovery at Hoyland, and Emma’s attack on David, though I minimized the extent of David’s injuries and did not say that he had killed Abigail. I told of Emma’s flight to Portsmouth, my bargain with Rich and the journey to the Mary Rose, my imprisonment by West. And the ship rolling over beneath me and sinking. At that my voice faltered again.

  After I finished the Queen was silent a full minute. Her shoulders slumped, then rose again with resolution. She asked quietly, ‘Have you no idea what has become of Emma Curteys?’

  ‘No. Though she has no money, and left Portsmouth in nothing but a shirt.’

  ‘Rogues!’ she burst out, in a fury such as I had never seen before, her colour rising. ‘Rogues and villains, to do that to a young girl for money. And as for what Richard Rich did, that is even worse. Well, the girl Emma may be gone but Rich shall not imperil the safety of that poor woman in the Bedlam!’

  ‘What will you do, your majesty?’ Warner asked anxiously. ‘The King – ’

  The Queen shook her head. ‘I will deal with this.’ She stood. ‘Sir Richard Rich, I think, is here at Portchester. Have him fetched.’

  ‘But your majesty—’

  ‘Have him fetched,’ she repeated, steel in her voice. She turned to the ladies. ‘Leave us, this is a privy matter.’

  Warner hesitated, then bowed and left, the maids-in-waiting following. The Queen and I were alone. The anger in her brown eyes had changed to concern. I felt tears come to my eyes again.

  ‘The Mary Rose – it must have been terrible. The King saw her go down – he was stricken by it. Lady Carew was with him, he comforted her.’

  ‘The soldiers on the aftercastle, it was because of me they were brought there. Barak says if it had not been them it would have been another company, and he is right, but – I keep seeing them, thinking I caused their deaths.’

  ‘That is natural, if wrong.’ She smiled again, sadly. ‘But words do not help, do they? Only time and prayer can do that.’

  ‘Prayer, your majesty?’ I repeated hollowly.

  ‘Yes, prayer.’

  ‘I have lost the art.’

  She reached out her hand and laid it on mine. A soft, shapely hand, scented. Then she lifted it abruptly as a knock sounded on the door. She called, ‘Enter,’ and Warner ushered in Richard Rich, his sharp little head buried in the thick fur collar of his grey robe, gold chain of office round his neck. His hard little eyes swept the room. Then he saw me, his eyes widened and he stepped back. I thought, so Barak was right, you thought me dead. Rich staggered and might have fallen had Warner not grasped his thin little shoulders. Rich looked at the Queen, remembered where he was, and bowed deeply. The Queen stared at him with eyes as hard as his own.

  ‘Sir Richard,’ she said grimly, ‘I see you believed Master Shardlake dead.’

  Rich brought himself under control. ‘I heard he was on the Mary Rose, your majesty. They said only a few sailors and soldiers survived.’

  The Queen spoke quietly, her eyes never leaving Rich’s face. ‘I know you sent him on board the Mary Rose, to be killed by the man West, who is dead now, and who for all his grievous faults at least tried to protect the life of the woman whose life you helped him ravage.’

  Rich gave me a wolfish look. ‘I do not know what this man has told you, your majesty, but he is my enemy. He will say aught—’

  ‘I believe what he has said, Sir Richard. It makes sense, given the things I know you are capable of. The killing of the clerk Mylling—’

  ‘He shut himself in that chamber—’

  She continued as though he had not spoken. ‘Your conspiracy with West to murder Master Shardlake, your allowing Emma Curteys to go on the Mary Rose, knowing who she was, I know everything, all the way back to the time you stole the King’s letter to Anne Boleyn and took it to Catherine of Aragon – ’

  Rich licked his thin lips. He pointed at me. ‘Nothing of this can be proved. West is dead—’

  ‘His mother lives. She could testify that letter was stolen; there are not many left who were at court nineteen years ago, but there may be some who will remember you going with West. I could soon start an enquiry. And the King will certainly remember that letter—’

  Rich’s eye began twitching. ‘Bring me a bible, your majesty. I will swear on it before you—’

  ‘When did you sell your soul to the devil?’ the Queen asked quietly.

  Rich reddened, opened his mouth, then closed it hard, his pointed little chin jutting but the tic under his eye twitching again. The Queen said, ‘Listen to me, Richard Rich. The woman Ellen Fettiplace, and Master West’s mother, are now under my personal protection. As West is dead, I shall pay Ellen’s fees at the Bedlam myself so long as she chooses to stay there. If anything happens to her, or to Matthew, I promise you on my oath – and my oath is not made lightly – I shall tell the King all you have done, starting with your theft of that letter, which gave Catherine
of Aragon notice he intended to divorce her.’

  Rich said nothing. The Queen’s face flushed with anger.

  ‘Do you understand? Answer your Queen, churl!’

  He said, very quietly, ‘I understand, your majesty.’

  ‘One thing more,’ I added. My voice sounded thick from the hatred I felt for Rich. ‘There is a will, that he tricked me into making. He has a copy. It must be destroyed.’

  The Queen turned to Warner. ‘Robert, Master Rich will bring the copy to you within the hour. You will personally destroy it.’

  Rich looked at the Queen with hunted, twitching eyes. She stared him down. ‘I will bring it,’ he said.

  ‘Good. Then get out of my sight. And stay out of it.’

  Rich bowed, then began walking backwards out of the room. From the doorway he gave me a look. It told me plainly that if ever I found myself at his mercy again, I would die, slowly and painfully, while he watched.

  As the door closed behind him I drew a deep breath. Warner, too, visibly relaxed. The Queen alone still stared angrily at the closed door.

  WARNER TOOK Barak and me to the gate of Portchester Castle. He had not spoken, but as we parted he said quietly, ‘Regarding Sir Quintin Priddis and his son, the Queen may want to act against them, but I shall argue against it. It would make these matters public and do no good to the Court of Wards. The King much values the profits it brings, and I do not want the Queen arguing with him.’

  ‘I understand,’ I said.

  He took a deep breath. ‘And after this I feel it might be safer if the Queen did not instruct you in any more cases.’

  I nodded. ‘Given where this one led?’

  He spoke quietly. ‘If you love her, as I do, you will leave her in peace now.’

  ‘I agree, Master Warner. And I am sorry again that I accused you.’

  He nodded, then reached out a hand. ‘Goodbye, Matthew,’ he said.

  ‘Goodbye, Robert, and thank you.’ I hesitated, ‘Beware of Richard Rich. I fear I have made him into the Queen’s enemy.’