Heartstone

'It's worse in the north. And great winds in the Channel. By Christ's mercy the Great Harry and the Mary Rose have arrived safely in Portsmouth Haven.' He looked at me keenly. 'I showed your message to the Queen. She was disturbed, as I was, by the attack on you. You are recovering?'

'I am, thank you.'

'The Queen wishes to see you now.' Warner opened a side door and called in a young clerk. 'Serjeant Shardlake is here. Go, inform the Queen. She will just be leaving the chapel.'

The clerk bowed and ran from the room. His footsteps clattered on the steps, then from the window I saw him run across the courtyard. I envied his speed and grace. Warner invited me to sit. He stroked his beard. 'These are lawless times. Tell me what happened.'

I told him the story, concluding with my visit to Dyrick. 'He will fight hard for his client,' I said. 'And, to be frank, his arguments are strong.'

Warner nodded slowly. 'Do you think he is involved in what happened to you?'

'There is no evidence at all. When I first saw him I thought he was acting the part of the outraged lawyer. But then I sensed an anger behind the legal dancing, some personal feeling.' I hesitated. 'Talking of that, Mistress Calfhill told me the Queen was very fond of Michael.'

'That is my impression too.'

Warner frowned. I could see he wished himself, and the Queen, rid of this.

'One thing, Master Warner. There is a rumour that Master Hobbey was in debt at the time of his move to Hampshire. I spoke to Alderman Carver of the Mercers' Guild, but he was reluctant to talk about another member. Is there any way you could make discreet enquiry?'

'I will see what I can do.' He stood up, nodding at me to do likewise, as light footsteps sounded on the stairs. We both bowed deeply as the door opened. A maid-in-waiting stepped in and held it open for the Queen.

* * *

QUEEN CATHERINE was dressed soberly for Sunday, in a plain dress of grey silk and a hood without jewellery. I thought they suited her less well than the bright colours she favoured, though they showed her auburn hair to advantage. She indicated that Warner and I should sit. The maid-in-waiting took a stool by the window, folding her hands in her lap.

'Matthew,' she began, 'Robert tells me you have been attacked. Are you safe?'

'Quite safe, your majesty.'

'I thank God for it. And what of the case? I understand there is little new evidence.' Her eyes were full of sorrow. Bess was right. She had cared deeply for Michael.

I told her that apart from Broughton's confirming his and Michael's opposition to the wardship, I had discovered little. She sat, considering, then said quietly, 'One thing I know about Michael, have known since he was a child. He was a good man, full of the kindness and charity that our Lord wished us all to have, though few enough do. He would never have made up a story to harm Hobbey. Never, even if his mind was disturbed.'

'That is my impression.'

'If something bad has been done to that boy,' Warner said, 'this case could make a stir. To say nothing of inflaming opinion further against the Court of Wards. The King might not wish that.'

'No, Master Warner!' The Queen spoke with sudden fierceness. 'His majesty would not wish wrongdoing to go unpunished. Michael wished to protect the boy Hugh, the only survivor of that poor family, and so do I. For his sake, and his good mother's, and the sake of justice!'

I glanced at Warner. I thought his estimate of the King's likely response more accurate than the Queen's. She continued, 'Matthew, if the gathering of depositions is ordered tomorrow, do not feel you must take on this burden. Another barrister can be appointed to act from then on and travel south.'

'He would need to know everything about the case to deal with the matter properly.'

She nodded. 'That would only be fair to him.'

'Someone else might take it on for a good purse,' Warner said, 'but would he have Serjeant Shardlake's commitment?' I realized Warner wanted me to stay with the case. He trusted me, and the fewer who knew the Queen had got herself involved with such a jar of worms the better. He looked at me. I could almost feel him willing me not to withdraw.

'I will follow this through, your majesty.'

The Queen smiled again, a warm open smile. 'I knew you would.' Her mobile face grew serious again. 'But I remember all that happened the last time you plunged into dark waters when your friend Master Elliard was murdered. Before I was Queen.'

'That I do not regret.'

'But Hugh Curteys is not a friend; you have never met him.'

'I would like to help him if I can. I would ask, though, for someone to accompany me. My clerk cannot come and my steward is—unsuitable.'

She nodded. 'A good clerk, and some strong fellow to be at your side. Warner, you can arrange that?'

'I will do all I can.'

She smiled at him. 'I know you are uneasy, my good servant. But I wish this matter properly investigated. Because it affects me in my heart, and because it is right that it should be.' She turned back to me. 'Thank you, Matthew. And now, I must go. I am due for lunch with the King. Matthew—' she held out her hand for me to kiss—'keep me informed of what happens at the hearing.'

My lips brushed a soft hand, there was a whiff of musky scent, and then Queen Catherine was gone, the maid-in-waiting following and closing the door behind them. Warner sat down again, and looked at me quizzically.

'The die is cast then, Matthew.'

'Yes.'

'Let me know what happens immediately the hearing is over, and if you have to go, I can select good men to accompany you.'

'Thank you.'

Warner hesitated, then said, 'I believe you have acted for wronged children before.'

I smiled. 'Did not our Lord say we should suffer the little children?'

Warner inclined his head. I could see he was wondering why I was doing this. I was unsure myself, except that children in peril, and judicial wrong, were two things that touched me closely. As did the wishes of the Queen, for whom I realized I felt more than friendship. Though there was no point in dwelling on that. As I took my leave, I felt a new surge of determination, what Barak sometimes called my obstinacy.

* * *

A FEW HOURS later I crossed the Bedlam yard once again. It had turned misty, deadening the clamour of the city, and warmer.

I had decided to visit Ellen that morning. The thought that she did not even have the formal protection of an order of lunacy had tightened my sense of responsibility even further. Two people had to know the truth: Warden Metwys and the keeper, Edwin Shawms. Metwys I had encountered during the case of my incarcerated client two years before; he was a typical courtier, who made no secret of the fact that the wardenship was for him nothing more than an office of profit. The sums that a man of his status would require to give up secrets were beyond my means. And Keeper Shawms was a tool of Metwys's. So I had decided, perhaps rashly, to see Ellen again, and try once more to find out what I could.

I knocked at the door. It was answered by one of the junior keepers, a heavy-set, slack-jawed young man called Palin. He nodded at me dully. 'I have come to see Ellen Fettiplace,' I said.

'Ah.' He nodded. Then he was pushed aside and Hob stood in the doorway. 'Master Shardlake,' he said in a mock-cheerful tone. 'I had not expected to see you again so soon.'

'I may be going away, I wished to tell Ellen.'

He stood aside to let me enter. The door of the office was open and I saw Shawms sitting behind the desk, writing. A fat, middle-aged man, he always seemed to wear the same slightly stained black jerkin. He looked up as I appeared, his expression stony. We were old adversaries.

'Come to see Ellen, Master Shardlake?' he asked in his growl of a voice.