Heartstone

by C. J. Sansom

  He looked at me keenly. ‘What did you make of it?’

  ‘I did not know she had such sadness in her heart. All those prayers urging us to put up with the shafts of ill fortune that come to us in this world, in the hope of salvation in the next.’

  ‘Her friends had to advise her to leave out certain passages – with a flavour of Luther. Fortunately she listened to us. She is always careful. For example, she will not stir from her chamber today because Sir Thomas Seymour is at Hampton Court.’

  ‘That rogue,’ I said feelingly. I had met Seymour at the time the King was pressing Catherine Parr to marry him; she had wanted to marry the dashing Seymour instead.

  ‘The King has had him chasing round the south of England inspecting the armies. He’s come to report to the Privy Council.’

  ‘I am glad the Queen has loyal friends such as you,’ I said sincerely.

  ‘Ay, we’ll watch out for her. Someone has to do the politics,’ he added.

  I STEPPED OUT into the sunlit courtyard. The astronomical clock over the arch in front of me showed four o’clock. The red-brick buildings cast barely a shadow on the courtyard; the paving stones shimmered in the heat. Sweat pricked at my brow. A messenger in the King’s livery rode fast through the courtyard, under the opposite arch, perhaps with some message for the military commanders.

  Then I saw two men standing in a doorway, looking at me. I recognized both, and my heart sank. Warner had said Sir Thomas Seymour was at Hampton Court and here he was, in a bright yellow doublet, black hose on his long shapely legs, the handsome face above his dark red beard as hard and mocking as I remembered. He stood with hands on hips in a pose of courtly arrogance; the stance in which Holbein had painted the King. Beside him, short and neat in his lawyer’s robe, stood Sir Richard Rich, his fellow member of the Privy Council, the King’s willing tool in the dirtiest pieces of State business these last ten years. I knew Rich had been involved in the financial administration of the invasion of France the year before; rumour said he had been in trouble with the King for lining his pockets a little too heavily.

  The two did not speak or move, just stood looking at me, Seymour with a contemptuous stare and Rich with his cold, still gaze. They knew a man of my rank could not simply ignore them. I took off my cap and approached, trying to keep my legs steady. I bowed low.

  Seymour spoke first. ‘Master Shardlake, it is a long time since we met. I thought you had gone back to the courts.’ He smiled mischievously and waved a hand in an exaggerated, sweeping gesture. ‘Gathering gold from the quarrels of poor silly folks, while strong true Englishmen fight to save their country from its enemies.’ He pointedly looked me up and down, even glancing round a little at my back.

  ‘God has given me my limitations.’

  He laughed. ‘Ay, that he has.’

  I did not reply. I knew Seymour would soon tire of mocking me and allow me on my way. But then Rich spoke, quietly, in his sharp voice. ‘What business have you here? I would not have thought you would dare come near the King’s court again. After last time.’

  He was referring to when he had had me put in the Tower on false charges to win a court case. Rich had then been in charge of the Court of Augmentations, which controlled the monastic lands seized by the King. I had brought a case on behalf of the City of London and, had I won, it would have reduced the value of some of the lands. Rich had used lying witnesses to have me imprisoned on false charges of treason. He would happily have seen me executed, but the charges had been proved false. Nonetheless the City Council had been so frightened they had withdrawn the case.

  I begged my legs to be still. ‘I am here on legal business, Sir Richard. For Brother Warner.’

  ‘The Queen’s lawyer. I hope she has not set you to defending heretics, as Warner did last year.’

  ‘No, Sir Richard. Merely a civil case. For one of the Queen’s old servants.’

  ‘Which court?’

  ‘Wards.’

  Rich and Seymour both laughed, Seymour’s bellow contrasting with Rich’s rasp. ‘Then I wish you a merry time,’ Rich said.

  ‘I hope you have a full purse for the officials,’ Seymour said. ‘You will need it.’

  I expected that to earn a rebuke from Rich; he was a law officer and they took offence at mention of corruption in the courts. But Rich only smiled thinly. ‘But who will fill that purse, Sir Thomas?’ he asked. ‘The Queen’s servant, I hope. Were the Queen to pay herself that would be maintenance of someone else’s case, which is not lawful.’

  ‘You may be sure the Queen will see the proprieties observed,’ I replied. ‘She is a woman of probity.’ It was a bold answer, but it was time to remind him who my patron was.

  Rich inclined his head. ‘I know this is not the first time her majesty has instructed you in legal matters. I find it a little strange, given the opinion the King showed of you at York.’ He turned to Sir Thomas, smiling. ‘Master Shardlake annoyed him there, and he suffered a public humbling for his pains.’ He cast his neat little head on one side, and I saw that beneath his cap his hair was greying.

  ‘I know that tale,’ Seymour said. ‘He called Shardlake a bent bottled spider before half of York.’ He laughed again.

  Rich bowed slightly, dismissing me. ‘Take care, Master Shardlake.’

  I walked away, shaken, feeling their eyes on me. To meet those two together was a piece of ill luck. I had thought I was long since done with Rich. It frightened me to think his malicious eyes had been watching me all this time; but no doubt he watched all the little people, waiting to see whom he could entangle in his webs. Thank God I had the Queen’s patronage. I waited till I had passed under the arch, beyond their gaze, before I wiped my brow.

  I WENT STRAIGHT HOME; I knew Tamasin was calling to see Guy and Barak would be with her. To my surprise when I entered the house the hallway was full of people. Tamasin sat at the bottom of the staircase, her swollen stomach prominent under her dress, her pretty pale face perspiring, blonde hair hanging limp around it. Coldiron’s daughter Josephine had removed Tamasin’s coif and was using it to fan her face with broad sweeps of her arm. Barak stood by, biting his lip anxiously. Coldiron stood looking on disapprovingly, while the two boys peered out from the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Tamasin,’ I said anxiously. ‘My dear? What has happened? Where is Guy?’

  ‘It’s all right, Master Shardlake.’ To my relief there was amusement in her voice. ‘He’s gone to wash his hands. I just felt strange when I came in out of the sun, I had to sit down.’

  ‘She walked all the way here by herself,’ Barak said indignantly. ‘I said I’d meet her here but I thought Jane Marris would be with her. Walking alone, in this heat, and at too fast a pace if I know her. What if you’d fallen down in the middle of Chancery Lane, Tammy? Why didn’t Jane come with you?’

  ‘I sent her to the shops. She hadn’t returned when I was due to leave. It’s chaos in the markets with all the uproar over the new coins.’

  ‘You should have told her to get back in time to fetch you here. Where are your wits, woman?’

  ‘I didn’t faint, Jack,’ Tamasin replied irritably. ‘I just had to sit down – ow!’ She broke off as Josephine, fanning a little too wildly, accidentally hit her on the cheek.

  Coldiron stepped forward, grabbing the coif. ‘Watch what you’re doing, you clumsy mare. Get back to the kitchen! And try not to break any more pots!’ Josephine blushed and hastened away with her little scuttling steps, head bowed. Coldiron turned to me. ‘She broke the big butter pot this morning. I’ve told her it’ll come out of her wages.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘Tell her I’ll pay for a new one.’

  Coldiron took a deep breath. ‘If I might suggest, sir, that’s not good for discipline. Women are like soldiers, they need to obey their superiors.’

  ‘Get out,’ I said irritably. ‘I’ve enough to attend to here.’

  Coldiron’s single eye widened for a moment with anger, but he obeyed and follow
ed his daughter back to the kitchen. The boys, who had been grinning, fled before him. I turned back to Tamasin. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course. There was no need for him to speak to her like that. Poor girl.’

  Guy appeared, walking slowly down the stairs, drying his hands on a towel. ‘Are you feeling better, Tamasin?’ he asked.

  ‘All well now.’ Tamasin struggled to her feet, Barak hastening to help.

  ‘Tell her, Dr Malton,’ Barak appealed. ‘Tell her she was stupid to walk here unaccompanied.’

  Guy leaned down and felt her brow. ‘You are very overheated, Tamasin. That is no good thing when you are with child.’

  ‘All right, I won’t walk out alone again.’ She looked at Barak. ‘I promise.’

  ‘May I examine Tamasin in your study, Matthew?’ Guy asked.

  ‘Of course. Jack, I would like a word with you,’ I added quickly as he made to follow Guy and his wife. Tamasin shot me a grateful smile over her shoulder. Reluctantly, he followed me into the parlour.

  I shut the door, bade him sit, and took a stool facing him.

  ‘We’ve some urgent work,’ I said.

  ‘The Queen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  His eyes lit up with interest as I told him of my meeting with the Queen and Bess. ‘The Lady Elizabeth was there when I arrived,’ I added.

  ‘What is she like?’

  ‘Astonishingly clever. The Queen and she are like mother and daughter.’ I smiled, then frowned. ‘Afterwards I met two old acquaintances. Rich and Thomas Seymour. I think they knew I was there,’ I concluded. ‘I think they were waiting for me to come out, to taunt me.’

  ‘It was just ill chance. They were probably talking about war business when you appeared. If you go to a cesspit, you’re bound to see some maggots.’

  ‘You’re right. But Rich has obviously been following my career.’

  ‘It’s no secret you’ve acted in cases for the Queen. He probably heard you were coming and decided to have a bit of sport with you.’

  ‘Yes. I’m not important enough for him to take any real interest.’

  ‘I’d heard Rich was a little out of favour.’

  ‘I heard that too. But he is still on the Privy Council. His talents are valued by the King,’ I added bitterly.

  ‘Politics is like dice: the better the player, the worse the man.’

  ‘Jack, we need to move fast. This hearing is on Monday.’

  ‘We’ve never dealt with the Court of Wards before.’

  ‘Many of its functions are not those of a court at all. You know the principle of wardship?’

  He quoted slowly, a passage remembered from a law book. ‘If a man holds land under knight service, and dies leaving minor heirs, the property passes in trust to the King till the ward comes of age or marries.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And the King has the right to manage the lands, and arrange the marriage of the ward. But in fact he sells the wardships to the highest bidder. Through the Court of Wards.’

  ‘Well remembered. Knight service is an ancient form of tenure which was dying out before the present King’s reign. But then the Dissolution of the Monasteries came. And all the seized monastic lands that have been sold have been on terms of knight service. It generated so much wardship business they abolished the old Office of Wards and set up the court. Its main job is money. They check the value of lands subject to wardship through the feodaries, the local officials. Then they negotiate with applicants for the wardship of minor heirs.’

  ‘Some wardships are granted to the children’s families, are they not?’

  ‘Yes. But often they go to the highest bidder, especially where there is no immediate family. Like this man Nicholas Hobbey in the case of the Curteys children.’

  ‘I can see why he’d do it.’ Barak was interested. ‘If he could marry the girl to his son, he’d get her share of her father’s woodland. But the girl died.’

  ‘It is still worth his while to have Hugh. Emma’s share would have passed to her brother. Hobbey will have control of Hugh’s lands till he is twenty-one. There is a constant cry for wood in the south, for ships and for charcoal for the ironworks. Especially now with the war.’

  ‘How much woodland is there?’

  ‘I believe approaching twenty square miles in all. Hobbey owned about a third himself, but the rest will now belong to Hugh Curteys. And by law the value of his land should be preserved. But I believe those who have bought wardships often make illicit profits by cutting down woodland, usually hand in glove with the local feodary, who takes a share. The whole system is rotten from top to bottom.’

  Barak frowned. ‘Is there nothing to protect children under wardship?’ A child of the streets himself, the plight of children in distress always moved him.

  ‘Very little. The wardmaster has an incentive to keep the ward alive because if he dies the wardship ends. And he is supposed to ensure the child is educated. But he can marry the ward off to more or less whom he pleases.’

  ‘The children are trapped, then? Helpless in the briars?’

  ‘The court has a supervisory power. It is possible to apply for protection against bad treatment for wards, which is what Michael Calfhill did. But the court doesn’t like interference, wardships are profitable. I will go to Wards tomorrow. I’ll probably have to grease some palm to see all the papers. And while I’m at it – ’ I took a deep breath – ‘I’ll try and get a copy of the document certifying Ellen’s insanity. From nineteen years ago.’

  Barak looked at me seriously. ‘That Ellen is closing a vice on you. Weakness can give some folk a strange sort of power, you know. And she’s crafty, as mad folk often are.’

  ‘Finding out about her family may be a way forward. Maybe I can find someone who will care for her. Ease my burden.’

  ‘You said Ellen was raped. Maybe it was a member of her family who did it.’

  ‘Or maybe not. If the Curteys application goes forward, I may have to go down to Portsmouth to take depositions. Perhaps I could make a detour to Sussex on the way.’

  Barak raised his eyebrows. ‘Portsmouth? I’ve heard a lot of soldiers are going there. It could be a likely place for the French to land.’

  ‘I know. The Queen warned me the King’s spies say that is what is planned. But the Hobbey establishment is some miles north.’

  ‘I’d come with you, but I can’t leave Tamasin. Not now.’

  I smiled. ‘I won’t hear of it. But help me with Michael Calfhill’s hearing.’

  ‘Strange he should kill himself just after making this application. When he might have been able to do something for the Curteys lad.’

  ‘You mean he might have been killed? I thought of that. But his mother said no one else knew of the application, and she recognized his writing on the suicide note.’ I passed the scrap of paper over to Barak. He studied it.

  ‘Still strange. It would do no harm to go to where Michael lodged, ask a few questions.’

  ‘Could you do that tomorrow?’

  Barak smiled and nodded. This was the sort of work he liked, and was good at. Ferreting things out on the street.

  ‘And visit the Curteyses’ old church, see if their vicar is still there?’

  ‘First thing.’

  ‘Here, I’ll write down the addresses.’

  When I turned to give the paper to him he was smiling at me sardonically.

  ‘What?’

  ‘This one has got your juices flowing, hasn’t it? I could see you were getting bored.’

  Barak sat up at the sound of his wife’s voice. We went to the door. Tamasin stood outside smiling. Guy looked happier than for some time.

  ‘Everything is as it should be with my daughter,’ Tamasin said. ‘My little Johanna.’

  ‘My little John,’ Barak countered.

  ‘But you are right heavy with the child, Tamasin,’ Guy said warningly. ‘You must take things easily.’

  ‘Yes, Dr Malton,’ she answered
humbly.

  Barak took her hand. ‘You’ll listen to Dr Malton, but not to your husband and master, eh?’

  Tamasin smiled. ‘Perhaps my good master will see me home. If you can spare him, sir.’

  As they left the house, bickering amiably, Guy smiled. ‘Tamasin says Jack is over-anxious.’

  ‘Well, I have some new work that will keep him occupied.’ I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘That is what you need too, Guy, to get back to work.’

  ‘Not yet, Matthew. I am too – weary. And now I should wash my hands again. Unlike some of my colleagues I believe it is important, to get rid of any bad humours.’

  He went back upstairs. I felt a sudden weight of sadness, for Guy, for Ellen, for the unknown lad Hugh Curteys, for poor Michael Calfhill. I decided to walk round my garden to order my thoughts a little.

  As I came round the side of the house I saw Coldiron chopping a pile of wood with an axe. His red face was slick with sweat; it dripped down past his eyepatch, onto his nose. Josephine was beside him, twisting her hands anxiously. She seemed on the point of tears. ‘Hunchbacks,’ her father was saying. ‘Swart-coloured men, pregnant hussies falling and displaying their great bellies on the stairs.’ He jumped and looked round at the sound of my approach. Josephine’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

  I stared at him. ‘Think yourself lucky Barak was not with me,’ I said coldly. ‘If he heard you talking of his wife like that you might find yourself on the wrong end of that axe.’ I walked round him and away. I would have dismissed him on the spot, but the look of utter fear in Josephine’s eyes had stopped me.

  Chapter Five

  AN HOUR LATER GUY and I sat down to supper. Coldiron was at least a good cook, and we dined on fresh river eels with butter sauce. His manner was obsequiously respectful and he kept his eye downcast as he served us.

  When he had left the room, I told Guy about my meeting with the Queen and the Curteys case. I also said that if I were to go to Hampshire, it would be a way of investigating Ellen’s past.

  He fixed me with his keen brown eyes, hesitated a moment, then said, ‘You ought to tell her you know how she feels about you and that there is no hope.’