‘See who’s next,’ Barak murmured. ‘This should be interesting.’ I saw that Sulyard and Pygeon had stepped into the ring. They glared at each other as they removed jerkins and shirts. Sulyard was bigger, and his body looked to have a raw-boned strength; but Pygeon, though stringy, had not an ounce of fat on him. Sulyard put his hands on his hips and turned to the crowd. ‘We won’t be long – those who’ve put bets on lop-ears get ready to lose your stakes!’
Pygeon did not reply, only stared at Sulyard. He shook his arms to loosen them, then shifted his weight from foot to foot to get his balance. He was taking this seriously. Sulyard grinned at him. ‘We should have our own bet, lop-ears,’ he said loudly. ‘Tell you what, if I win I’ll have that rosary you use to say Hail Mary on the quiet. His family are our village recusants, lads!’
‘And if I win,’ Pygeon shouted, ‘I’ll have your brigandyne.’
Sulyard looked taken aback. Several in the crowd laughed. Someone shouted, ‘Take the bet, Sulyard, as you’re so sure of winning.’
Barak said to Carswell, ‘Bet you a half groat Sulyard wins.’
‘Done.’
The fight went on for ten minutes, Sulyard’s thrusting power against Pygeon’s unexpected strength. I realized Pygeon meant to tire Sulyard out. Slowly the camp bully weakened. In the end Pygeon put him down, not with a throw but with a steady, powerful movement that made his stringy muscles stand out. The taller man’s legs buckled, and then Sulyard was on the ground, panting heavily. Pygeon smiled, savouring his triumph.
‘Shake hands and share a loving cup!’ Carswell called out.
Pygeon looked down at Sulyard. ‘Fetch the brigandyne to me when you are recovered, Master.’ He picked up his clothes and walked away. The gamblers who had lost – most of them – reached ruefully for their bags. Barak paid over the half groat. I saw that Leacon had come out of his tent, accompanied by Sir Franklin and Snodin. They stood talking.
‘Come, Jack,’ I said, ‘the afternoon wears on. We must say farewell to Leacon and return to Hoyland.’
Barak raised a hand to the soldiers. ‘Farewell, lads, I must return my master to our gracious hosts!’
‘You’re picking up Carswell’s style of humour,’ I told him as we walked away.
‘No, ’tis my own.’
As we approached Leacon I saw he too had had a barbering. The whiffler Snodin was talking loudly and angrily, ‘Milk bellies that can’t do without beds. Simpering, mumping weaklings—’
‘All right, Snodin,’ Sir Franklin said testily. He stared at me as I approached. ‘Sir Franklin, I am sorry to interrupt, but I would say goodbye to Master Leacon – ’
Sir Franklin waved a hand impatiently. ‘A moment. Snodin, send a message about the deserters to Sir William Paulet. He must alert the shires to look for them.’
‘Yes, Sir Franklin. The fools,’ Snodin burst out with sudden emotion. ‘Why did they do it? I trained those men, I know them.’ He looked at Sir Franklin. ‘Will they hang if they’re caught?’
‘The King has ordered every deserter to be hanged.’
The whiffler shook his head, bowed and walked off. ‘Deserters,’ Leacon told me. ‘Two went last night.’
‘They’ll be caught if they return home.’
Barak and I exchanged glances. If we had followed Alderman Carver’s advice, Barak would have been a deserter. Leacon shook his head sadly. ‘Poor fools. It will be a public hanging if they’re caught. All the companies are below strength now. As are the ships – they say the West Country is stripped of fishermen, the women are having to take the boats out.’
‘I saw some Spanish sailors in town.’
‘They’ll take any foreigner that can sail, save French and Scots.’
Even more with his head shaven Leacon looked, like West, far older than his years. Yet West’s eyes had been clear and sharp, while Leacon’s had that vacant, staring look again. ‘George,’ I said quietly, ‘I fear we must leave you now.’
He nodded. ‘Will you be coming back to Portsmouth?’
‘I think not. We return to London on Tuesday.’ I put out my hand. ‘But my prayers, for what they are worth, go with you and your men. And I hope we may meet once more in London, in happier days. Bring Carswell, I will find him a company of actors.’
‘Happier days. Yes, I long for those.’
BARAK SEEMED to have got over our argument, perhaps because of the reminder about deserters. As we rode back across Portsea Island, I told him what had passed with West.
‘So Ellen could have done it herself.’
‘If West is to be believed.’
‘Is he?’
‘I don’t know. If he was responsible for the attack on Ellen, he has a strong motive for saying something likely to make me – or at least, my imaginary client – drop the matter.’ I looked at him. ‘But do not worry, we will go back on Tuesday as I said. I have no power here, I cannot compel anyone to answer my questions. Least of all Priddis, the one man who could give me information. But back in London,’ I added grimly, ‘there could be ways of bringing pressure.’
‘The Queen?’
‘Maybe. When she returns from Portsmouth.’
‘And what of Hugh?’
I sighed heavily. ‘Unless Priddis’s visit produces something, I have no evidence even that there has been fraud. I cannot in good faith incur more costs.’