Leacon clapped Llewellyn on the shoulder. ‘Tom here tried his Welsh with two captains from Swansea.’
‘I’m glad my father was not there to see me stumble,’ the boy said ruefully.
‘Now, Master Shardlake,’ Leacon said, ‘I have found your Philip West. He is assistant purser on the Mary Rose. And the ships’ officers too are meeting this morning. At the Godshouse.’
‘We saw the Godshouse as we rode in.’
‘I will take you there afterwards. But first let me introduce Master John Saddler. He is whiffler to a company of pikemen here.’
I nodded to Saddler. He was short and stocky, with small, hard blue eyes and a lantern jaw framed by a short grey beard. I sat, removing my cap and coif with relief. Barak joined us with the drinks and passed them round.
‘Now, sir,’ Leacon addressed Saddler. ‘Tell my friend what you know of that good man William Coldiron.’
Saddler studied me, his eyes coldly speculative. ‘That’s not his real name, if it’s the man I knew. Though he had good reason to change his name. He was christened William Pile. Captain Leacon here has been asking all the old veterans if they’d heard of him. It was the description I recognized. Tall and thin, around sixty now, an eye out and a scar across his face.’
‘That’s Coldiron.’
‘How do you know him, sir?’ Saddler asked curiously.
‘I have the misfortune to have him for my steward.’
Saddler smiled, showing stumps of discoloured teeth. ‘Then watch your silver, sir. And when you return home, ask him what he did with our company’s money when he deserted.’
‘Deserted? He told me he was at Flodden and killed the Scottish King.’
Saddler laughed. ‘Did you believe him?’ he asked, mockery in his voice.
‘Not for a second. Nor would I continue to employ him, for he is a lazy, lying drunkard, but I feel sorry for his daughter that came with him.’
Saddler’s eyes narrowed. ‘A daughter? How old would she be?’
‘Mid-twenties, I would say. Quite tall, blonde. Her name is Josephine.’
Saddler laughed. ‘That’s her! That’s our old mascot.’
‘Your what?’
Saddler leaned back, folding his arms over a flat stomach. ‘Let me tell you about William Pile. He was a Norfolk man, like me. We were both levied into the army for the war against the Scots, back in 1513. We were in our twenties then. William was at Flodden, that’s true, but unlike me he wasn’t standing on that moor as the Scotch pikemen ran down the ridge at us. William Pile’s father was an estate reeve and got him a job working in the stores. He was well in the rear that day, as always. Killed the Scottish King, my arse.’ He smiled coldly. ‘And that’s just the beginning. After the 1513 war, which got us fuck all like every war this King’s made, we both stayed in the army. Sometimes we’d be with the garrison at Berwick, sometimes in Calais. Boring times mostly, hardly any action. That suited William, though. He liked to spend his days drinking and dicing.’
‘So, you knew Coldiron – Pile – well?’
‘Surely. Never liked the old shit, but I used to marvel at how he got away with things. We served together for years, I was promoted to whiffler, but William stayed an army clerk, no ambition beyond creaming what he could from the men’s rations and cheating at cards. He’d no prospect of marrying, not with that face. Let me guess, he told you he got his injuries at Flodden.’
‘That’s right.’
Saddler laughed sardonically. ‘This is what really happened. One evening in Caernarfon Castle William was playing cards. There was a big Devon fellow with us, six feet tall and with a vile temper when he was drunk, which they all were that night or William would have been more careful in his cheating. When the Devon man realized he’d been done out of a sovereign, he stood up, grabbed his sword and slashed William across the face.’ He laughed again. ‘God’s nails, you should have seen the blood! They thought he would die, but stringy fellows like William are hard to kill. He recovered and came with us to France two years later on campaign.’
‘I remember that war. I was a student then.’