by C. J. Sansom
I answered firmly, 'She has been so hemmed all these years she is in no right mind to make a decision like that.'
He shook his head. 'You are determined to rescue her whether she wants it or no. Whatever the consequences. As with Ellen.'
'Yes.'
'What if she's not in Portsmouth?'
'Then there will be nothing else I can do, and I will return alone. Now, goodbye, Jack.' I put out my hand. 'Until tonight or tomorrow.'
'Mad,' he said. 'Completely mad. Try to stay safe, for God's sake.'
He turned his horse, spurred it, and rode fast up towards the London road. He disappeared round a bend. I patted Oddleg. 'Come, back to Portsmouth.' I said.
* * *
THE ROAD SOUTH was strangely quiet. I thought, it is Sunday. No, that was tomorrow. From the deep-set lanes I smelt smoke several times and thought, are the charcoal-burners working as far south as this? I heard shouts, too.
I began the slow climb up Portsdown Hill. And then, near the top, the air became thick with smoke and I saw a burning beacon, men milling round it. My heart thumping, I crested the escarpment. Smoke from beacon after beacon was visible, in a line all along the hills. I looked down, across Portsea Island to the sea. Then my jaw dropped and I gripped Oddleg's reins, hard.
Most of the warships were still at anchor in the Solent, though some of the smaller ships were in the harbour, small dots from here. In front of the warships half a dozen larger dots were manoeuvring rapidly to and fro. I heard a sound like the rumble of thunder that could only be cannon firing. I thought, those ships are moving and turning so fast they must be galleys, as big as the Galley Subtle. Then I saw, at the eastern end of the Isle of Wight in the distance, an enormous dark smudge. The French fleet had arrived. The invasion had begun.
Part Six
THE BATTLE
Chapter Forty-three
I SAT FOR several minutes watching the extraordinary scene in the distance. The English ships, at anchor and with sails reefed, looked terrifyingly vulnerable. I wondered why the huge French fleet did not advance and assumed the wind was against them. A little way along from me, near the burning beacon, a group of country women stood watching the fighting. They were silent, anxious-looking, and I wondered if they had menfolk down there.
My instinct was that I was too late, I should turn and ride back. But Emma had been only three hours ahead of me at most; if she had come to Portsmouth she could surely not have found her way into battle yet. I thought of her watchfulness, her carefully considered speech. With the companies short of men it was perfectly possible she could get herself taken on, all the more now the French were here. I remembered Hobbey saying how Abigail had helped her bind up her breasts as they grew, and Hugh rubbing uncomfortably at 'his' chest. How much discomfort must she have undergone these last six years?
At the bridge linking the mainland to Portsea Island everything had changed since the morning. Now people were trying to get off the island, not on to it. A stream of people was crossing from the seaward side; women with babies, children, old people hobbling on sticks, all fleeing a possible siege. Most were poor; they carried bundles or hauled their possessions stacked on rickety carts. I remembered Leacon talking of the populace of the French countryside, begging and starving beside the road. I thought, is this about to happen here?
I waited till the refugees had passed. They began wearily climbing Portsdown Hill. An old couple started to argue about whether to abandon their cart, which contained a dismantled truckle bed, some poor clothes, pewter plates and a couple of stools. People trying to get past shouted at them to get out of the way. Then I heard drums, and a company of militia with an assortment of weapons marched rapidly down the hill. The refugees jumped quickly aside. The soldiers marched rapidly past me, the half-armour some wore clinking and rattling. The guards at the bridge saluted as they tramped across in a cloud of yellow dust.
When they had gone, I rode up to the nearest guard and asked what the latest news was. He looked at me with irritation. 'The Frenchies have come, that's what.' He was an enlisted man, who normally would not have dared talk to someone of my class like that; but as I had seen many times now, the war was dissolving social boundaries.
'Can I get into the city?'
'Everyone's trying to leave.'
'There is someone I need to try and get out. A friend.'
'Well, master lawyer, if you can persuade them to let you in, I wish you the best of luck.' He gave me a glance of grudging respect, and waved me on.
* * *
ON PORTSEA ISLAND the soldiers' tents still stood, but they were all empty now, the flaps open, only a handful of men on guard. Small objects were scattered here and there on the grass—a bowl, a spoon, a cap—the soldiers had been called away in a hurry.
As I approached the town walls, where men still laboured hard to strengthen the fortifications, I passed another group of refugees trudging towards the bridge, among them a group of prostitutes, their painted faces streaked and dusty. Then I had to pull into the side again to allow another company of soldiers to march past; foreign mercenaries this time in bright slashed doublets, talking in German. I had a view of the fleet: the ships still rode at anchor, among them the Great Harry and the Mary Rose; I saw the Galley Subtle with the galleasses, between the warships and the huge French galleys half a mile off. I wondered if Leacon and his company were already aboard the Great Harry. A cloud of dark smoke came from the front of a French galley, followed by a distant boom; an English galleass had fired back.
I reached the tents outside the city. As I feared, they, too, were empty. Looking up at the walls, I saw the soldiers lining the top had their backs to me, watching what was happening out at sea; the city wall now blocked my view. I turned Oddleg towards the tents, hoping someone had been left on guard who could give me information, but could see nobody. It was strange riding among the tents and hearing no noise, no shouting or clattering. The tents of Leacon's company, like the others, were empty. I was about to turn back when I heard a voice calling weakly.
'Lawyer Shardlake! Over here!'
I followed the voice to a tent from which a cesspit smell emanated. Hesitantly, I looked through the open flap. In the half-light within I saw bowls and clothing scattered about. In a corner a man lay, half-covered by a blanket. It was Sulyard, the bully who had been so full of bravado the night before. His ugly bony face was white as a sheet. 'It is you,' he said. 'I thought I was having bad visions.'
'Sulyard? What ails you?'
'There was a barrel of bad beer last night. When we went into Portsmouth this morning four of us were sent back with the flux.' He gave a little smile, and I saw that he was glad.
'Where is the rest of the company?'
'On the Great Harry. Listen, can you get me something to drink? There's beer in the tent with the green flag.'
I went and found the tent he described. There were some barrels of beer and drinking vessels stored there and I filled a tankard. I took it back to him. He drank greedily, then he gave me an amused, calculating look. 'Have you come for the boy?'
'What boy?' I asked eagerly. 'Do you mean Hugh Curteys?'
'The one that was with you the first time you came here, the good archer.'
'Have you seen him? Please, tell me.'
'We were supposed to go on the ships this morning, but the King was on the Great Harry and they weren't going to put us on till he'd gone across to the Mary Rose. We were waiting on the wharf, when your lad ran up. Hot and dusty, carrying a bow. He recognized Captain Leacon and asked to join the company. By then four of us were crouched against a wall shitting like dogs, and the company's already short. So the captain took him on, and sent us sick ones back.'
'I need to find that boy.'
'You'll have a job. Just after, there was a great commotion and the King's barge came speeding back to shore. Then the French fleet comes into view round the Isle of Wight.' With difficulty, Sulyard leaned up on his elbows. 'Do you know what's happen
ed since? Have the French landed?' I understood the reason for his unaccustomed civility; it was not just drink he wanted; he was afraid the French would come and butcher him in his tent.
'No. They're skirmishing out at sea. Listen, did they take the boy on board the Great Harry?'
'They must have done.'
'I must try and find him. I must go into town.'
'They won't let you in, they've been clearing civilians out all morning. You'd need to go to the army quartermaster's office at the royal tents.'
'Is the King there?'
'I heard he went to South Sea Castle to watch the battle. I saw him when he landed—Christ, it took eight men to get him up the steps. Listen, can you get me out of here? Off the island?'
'No, Sulyard, I can't. I told you, I am going into Portsmouth.'
He scowled, then gave me a leering wink. 'You like the boy, eh?'
I sighed. 'Is there anything else I can do for you?'
'No. You've brought us enough bad luck.'
* * *
MY ONLY CHANCE now was to try and find the quartermaster. As I had told Hobbey, I planned to say Emma was a young woman driven by patriotism to impersonate a man and join up—I had heard tavern tales of such things. But I feared she could already have been rushed on board the Great Harry.
I rode past the town walls where the royal tents stood behind the long shallow pond, the Great Morass. There were over thirty of them, each as large as a small house, the heavy fabric woven in the vibrant colours I remembered from York. The largest and most spectacular, heavily guarded, with elaborate designs and threaded with cloth of gold and silver, would be the King's tent. Soldiers and officials bustled to and fro. From all the tents the flags of England and the Tudor dynasty hung listlessly. I thought, it will be starting to get dark soon, ships do not fight in the dark. That will be the time to get Emma off the Great Harry.
On the seaward side of the pond the sandy, scrubby ground was alive with hundreds of soldiers. Companies had been joined together to form groups of several hundred, the captains patrolling in front on horseback. Nearby a troop of perhaps three hundred pikemen stood at attention, their weapons rising fifteen feet into the air; if the French attempted a coastal landing they would charge them on the beach. Somewhere a drum beat softly, regularly. All along the coastline more groups of pikemen and halberdiers stood ready. There were only a few archers at the front of each group, most would be out on the ships.
At the shore the ground shelved upwards to a little bank, blocking my view of the sea. Cannon were being set up along the top, and men were digging holes and fixing in pointed wooden stakes, angled to point seaward. I saw yet more cannon being dragged across. Ahead of me was the bulk of the new South Sea Castle, a solid, heavy square with wide-angled bastions. It bristled with cannon, as did a smaller fort a little way along the coast. On the tower at the top I saw a group of brightly coloured figures, the one at the centre far larger than the others. The King, watching what was happening out at sea.
There was a tremendous crashing roar, and smoke rose from South Sea Castle as a battery of cannon fired, presumably at the French galleys. Cheers sounded from the soldiers standing on top of the bank, so perhaps one was hit. I remembered Leacon saying the biggest cannon could hit a target over a mile away.
I turned aside, realizing my legs were shaking. Again I fought an overwhelming urge to turn back. I thought of Barak, no doubt still riding northward, and thanked God I had insisted he go. Then I set my jaw and rode on slowly towards the royal encampment. The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon.
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 ferret
ed 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.'
