Heartstone (26 page)

Read Heartstone Online

Authors: C. J. Sansom

BOOK: Heartstone
6.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘I think I offended him,' I said to Barak.
‘He must know what people think of the war.'
‘Yet in the end he is right about the need to defend ourselves. And he and his men are the ones who must do it.'
‘Come on,' Barak said. ‘Let's go to the village. I wouldn't mind a piece of bacon.'
THE VILLAGE had no real centre; longhouses of various sizes were jumbled together at odd angles, paths weaving between them. In front of the bakehouse, a low square building, a table was loaded with bacon and thick slices of ham. Several soldiers were arguing with the women who had come out to us and now stood behind it. Sulyard was at the centre of the argument, shouting. More villagers were coming out of their houses.
One of the old women was waving a coin at Sulyard with just the air of outraged fury I had seen in Cheapside ten days before. ‘This is no proper coin!' she shouted. ‘It's not silver! Shame on you, the King's soldiers trying to cheat us!'
Sulyard bawled back. ‘It's one of the new coins, you doltish country mare! It's a testoon, a shilling!'
A tall old man stepped up to him, grim-faced. ‘Don't you insult my wife, ape!' He gave Sulyard a little push. Another soldier stepped forward and shoved him back.
‘Don't you push Sulyard! Ape he is, but he's our ape!'
Carswell, the corporal, raised his hands. ‘Come, lads. Don't make trouble, or we'll end marching in the jacks all day.'
‘These clods don't understand the coinage!' Sulyard said with a mocking laugh. The growing crowd of villagers murmured ominously. Barefoot children looked on excitedly.
‘Please,' Carswell called out, ‘be calm! Our ape speaks true, these are the new coins of the realm!' Sulyard gave him a nasty look.
‘Then pay in the old ones!' a young man called out.
The young archer Llewellyn stepped forward. ‘They're all spent. Please, Goodwife, we've had scarce anything but bread and cheese for three days.'
The old woman folded her arms. ‘That's your problem, my pretty.'
‘We should send that old woman against the damned French,' Sulyard shouted. ‘They'd flee at the sight of her.'
A couple of villagers, older men, stepped forward. Carswell looked round desperately, then saw me. He pointed. ‘See, we have a gentleman with us, a lawyer. He'll confirm what we say.'
The villagers gave me hostile looks. I hesitated, then said, ‘There is indeed a new coinage.'
‘So soldiers take hunchback lawyers with them now to cheat folks!' Nothing could mollify the old woman. The villagers growled agreement.
I stepped forward. ‘See, the coins have the King's head on them.'
‘It's not silver!' the old woman shrieked in my face. ‘I know how silver looks and feels!'
‘It's mixed with copper. They are worth eightpence of the old money in London.'
‘Ninepence!' one of the soldiers called out hopefully.
‘Eightpence,' I repeated firmly.
The old woman shook her head. ‘Don't care. Don't want that rubbish!'
‘Come, Margaret,' one of the old men said. ‘We killed Martin's pig to get this meat, we need to sell it.'
I took my purse. ‘I'll pay, in the old money. Then the soldiers can repay me, eightpence for a new testoon.'
There was a murmur of agreement among the villagers. The old woman still looked suspicious, but said, ‘You can have the lot for four shillings in proper silver. It should be five given the insults I've had, but we'll say four.'
It was a hard bargain, but I nodded agreement. The tension, which had been singing in the hot midday air, relaxed as I handed over a dozen silver groats, which the old woman examined ostentatiously before nodding and waving a hand at the meat. The soldiers took portions. The villagers returned to their houses, giving us hostile looks over their shoulders.
Carswell collected money from the recruits, then approached me. ‘Thank you, sir, on behalf of the men. Here is their money. If we'd got into a fight we'd have been in the shit with the officers.' He hesitated, then added, ‘It would be a favour if you did not mention this to Captain Leacon.'
‘Ay,' Tom Llewellyn added. ‘We know you are his friend.'
I smiled. ‘Word has travelled fast.'
Sulyard swaggered by, giving us a dirty look. I noticed he wore pearl buttons on his jerkin, and remembered what Leacon said about the differences in the soldiers' clothes. He said, ‘You stopped a promising fight brewing there, Carswell, you dog-hearted scut.'
‘With old people and children?' Carswell asked. Sulyard was now attracting hostile looks from some of the other soldiers. He turned and swaggered away.
‘Sorry about him, sir,' Carswell said. ‘Come on, Welshy, let's get back.'
I looked at Llewellyn curiously. ‘You are not Welsh, by your voice?'
‘No, sir. But my father is. He trained me to the warbow,' he added proudly. A shadow crossed his face. ‘Though I like my work at the forge too.'
Carswell nudged him. ‘And your girly, eh? He's to be married at Christmas.'
‘I congratulate you.'
‘But where shall we be at Christmas?' Llewellyn asked sadly.
‘We'll beat those Frenchies,' Carswell said confidently. ‘You'll be happily in bed with your Tessy come Twelfth Night. If they have beds in Yiewsley village: I've heard you all still sleep with the cows.'
‘No, that's Harefield men, like Sulyard.' Llewellyn looked at me. ‘There are four of us here from our village.' He shook his head sadly. ‘When we left, the girls garlanded us with flowers, everyone stood cheering as a lute player led us down the road. A far cry from our reception here.'
‘Come on,' Carswell said. ‘Let's get this bacon back to camp, before I start drooling.'
They walked away. ‘That's got us well in with the troops,' Barak said.
‘Jesu knows we need some friends on this journey.'
He looked at me. ‘That was Richard Rich back there on the road, wasn't it?'
‘Yes. Probably on his way to Portsmouth. The sooner we get to Hoyland Priory and back again, the better.'
AFTER LUNCH the company rested for an hour, sitting out the hottest part of the day. Then the soldiers were called back into line.
We marched on steadily. By the time we reached Guildford, late in the afternoon, some of the recruits were drooping with exhaustion. We marched through the town without stopping, a few small boys running alongside and cheering, but most of the townsfolk barely looking at us; many companies of soldiers would have passed through these last weeks.
Not long after we mounted a crest of sandstone hills, then descended into a river valley. It was about six o'clock, the sun starting to sink. We saw Godalming at last, cradled by the hills and dominated by the tall spire of a large church. A man stood at the gate of a meadow, looking at us expectantly. At a signal from Leacon, the men fell out and sank exhausted to the roadside. Leacon rode back to us.
‘I am leaving Snodin in charge of the men,' he said. ‘That is the field allotted them to camp in tonight. I am riding into town with the purser to buy rations and see if I can find some new shoes. Some of the men are limping badly.'
‘That they are.'
‘I'll probably have to pay a high price. How merchants are profiting from this war. I'll return to stay with the men, but you and your friends may as well ride in with me and find an inn. We can pick you up on the main road as we march through tomorrow. At six, we have to keep up the pace.'
‘We'll be ready,' Dyrick answered, though he was as tired and dusty as I.
WE RODE INTO Godalming. Leacon and his purser left us to find the mayor, and we went to look for an inn. Most were full, but we found places at last. Barak and Feaveryear would have to share a room again. I went up to my chamber, took off my boots and lay down on the mattress, a feather one this time. I was almost asleep when there was a knock at the door and Barak entered.
‘Come with me into town,' he begged. ‘Let's find somewhere else to eat. I can't bear a whole evening with Feaveryear.'
I heaved myself to my feet, wincing at my sore back and thighs. ‘Nor I with Dyrick.'
We found another inn, with better food than the night before. It was a companionable meal without Dyrick and Feaveryear. But as we stepped out into the street again I felt an urge to be alone for a while; I had been constantly in company for two days.
‘I think I will look at the church,' I said.
‘A spot of prayer?'
‘Churches are good for contemplation.'
He sighed. ‘Back to nestle with Feaveryear, then.'
I walked up the main street and into the church. The hushed space reminded me of childhood days, for this was as traditional a church as the law allowed. The evening sun shone straight in through the brightly stained west window, making the interior a dim red. A chantry priest recited Masses for the dead in a side chapel.
I walked slowly down the nave. Then I saw, in another side chapel, bent before the altar rail, a figure in a dusty white coat. George Leacon. He must have heard my footsteps stop for he turned round. He looked utterly weary.
‘Forgive me,' I said quietly. ‘I came to look at the church.'
He smiled sadly. ‘I was trying to communicate with my Maker.'
‘I remember at York you were working hard at reading the Bible.'
‘I still have that bible.' He looked at me, his face anguished now. ‘These days it strikes me how full of war the Bible is. The Old Testament, at least, and the Book of Revelation.'
I sat on the altar-rail steps. After that long day in the saddle I doubted I could kneel. ‘Yes,' I agreed.
‘I need to get
away
from images of war.' Leacon's tone was suddenly fierce. ‘I read the New Testament, I pray for images of battle to stop crowding into my head, but - they will not.'
I wondered again at how the open boyish face I remembered had become so thin, so stark. ‘You said you were in France last year,' I prompted gently.
‘Ay.' He turned so he was sitting beside me. ‘Those recruits, they have no notion what war is. When you knew me four years ago, Master Shardlake, I had had an easy form of soldiering. Garrison duty on the northern border or in Calais, or guarding the King's palaces. No war, only border ruffles with the Scots. Yes, I saw reivers there brought back dead for their heads to be displayed on Berwick Castle. But I had never killed a man. And then, you remember, I was dismissed.'
‘Unjustly.'
‘And so I returned to my parents' farm, which you saved for us in that court action.'
‘I owed you a debt.'

Other books

Pizza Is the Best Breakfast by Allison Gutknecht
Frey by Faith Gibson
Hitler's Last Days by Bill O'Reilly
Life Embitters by Josep Pla
Coming Home by Rosamunde Pilcher
Sword of Shadows by Karin Rita Gastreich
A Knot in the Grain by Robin McKinley