THE HUNT DISPERSED, Hobbey ordering everyone to walk or ride back to the clearing. A servant led his limping horse away. Hugh left with the two young gentlemen, enjoying their congratulations. Avery went up the path to fetch Fulstowe and David, who must have been too far up the path to have heard the horn. Hobbey stood, dusty, his clothes torn, rubbing his pale hands. ‘I am sorry I fell on you, sir,’ he said. ‘Will your arm be all right?’
‘I think so. Come, Barak, let us go back to the house.’ I stood, but at once the wood spun round me. Barak helped me sit down again.
‘You’ve had a shock. Rest here awhile.’
Dyrick laughed. ‘Be careful, Nicholas, or he’ll find some way of suing you for trespass against the person.’
‘Be quiet,’ Hobbey snapped. Dyrick’s face darkened and he looked as though he were about to say something, but then he turned and stalked away down the path, just as Avery reappeared with Fulstowe and David. David looked at the stag, the arrow stuck deep in its chest. Fulstowe stepped close. ‘A fine shot,’ he said admiringly. ‘We should raise cups to Master Hugh tonight. He deserves the heartstone as a new trophy.’
‘Had the stag run on to us,’ David said sulkily, ‘I would have got him. It should have been my kill.’
‘God’s death, boy,’ Hobbey snapped. ‘It knocked Master Shardlake and I over. It could have hurt us badly! Fulstowe is right, you should be congratulating Hugh.’
David’s eyes widened. I had never heard Hobbey shout at his son before. David cried out, ‘Oh yes, Hugh is always better than me! At everything. Hugh, Hugh, Hugh!’ He glared at me. ‘Hugh that the hunchback thinks so badly treated.’
‘Go home!’ Hobbey pointed at his son with a trembling finger.
David muttered an obscenity and crashed away into the wood, clutching his bow. I glimpsed angry tears on his face. Hobbey turned to Fulstowe in time to catch him smiling at the exhibition. His eyes narrowed. ‘Go, steward,’ he said. ‘Meet the cart and tell them to get this stag loaded up.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Fulstowe said, an ironic touch in his voice. He too walked away.
‘Agh, my hands,’ Hobbey said. ‘I need to find some dock leaves. Avery, come with me, you know these woods.’
Avery’s eyes narrowed at being addressed like a household servant; nonetheless he accompanied Hobbey down the path. Barak and I were left alone with the dead stag. The birds, driven from the scene by all the clamour, slowly returned to their roosts, and their song began again.
‘This’ll be some story to tell Tammy when I get home,’ Barak said.
‘Dyrick offered me a deal on costs before the hunt,’ I said quietly. ‘If we leave tomorrow after Priddis’s visit, each side will pay their own. I think it’s because of David. I think I must accept.’ I sighed. ‘The mysteries of this house will have to be left to themselves.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Barak looked at me, a rueful smile on his face.
Creaking wheels sounded on the path. Half a dozen men guided the big cart we had seen at the clearing down the lane. It was dripping blood from the does and fauns, which must already have been taken to the clearing.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘I’m all right now. Let’s go.’
We rode slowly down the path, the servants with the cart doffing their caps as we passed them. It was further than I had realized. My arm throbbed painfully.
I was thinking we must be at the glade soon when Barak touched my shoulder. ‘Look,’ he said quietly. ‘What’s that? Through there?’
‘Where?’ I looked through the trees. ‘I can’t see anything.’
‘Something bright, like clothing.’ He dismounted and walked into the wood. I dismounted too and followed, then almost walked into him from behind as he came to a dead stop.
‘What is it? – ’
I broke off at the extraordinary scene before us. Ahead of us was the little dell I had found that morning, with the fallen log leaning against a tree. For a second my mind whirled, for it seemed I was seeing the unicorn hunt on the tapestry in Hobbey’s hall brought to life. A woman with long fair hair sat on the log, her back against the tree, arms folded on her lap. She stayed quite silent, not moving at our appearance. The images were mixed up and for a second I thought I saw a unicorn’s horn projecting from her brow. Then I realized what was really there. Abigail Hobbey, pinned to the tree behind her by an arrow through her head.
Part Five
THE UNQUIET DEAD
Chapter Thirty-one