Heartstone

‘Not if it happened that way.’


‘What if she arranged to meet someone here, and they killed her?’

‘That’s possible. But she may have come here to get away from all the company, as I did. It can’t have been easy sitting with those women, knowing they had probably been told about David.’

Barak looked at the body. ‘Poor creature. What harm did she ever really do anyone? She was bad-tempered and rude, but so are many. Why kill her?’

‘I don’t know. Unless she had other secrets besides David, and someone took the chance to silence her.’ I remembered the conversation I had overheard between Abigail and Hobbey. ‘She was afraid that something would happen on the hunt. And now it has.’



WHEN WE WALKED into the clearing I saw everyone had returned. Hugh and David, with Hobbey, Fulstowe and Dyrick, stood watching with the rest of the party as servants in bloody smocks cut open the stomach of a large doe under Avery’s supervision. Five more had been dumped in a heap nearby. The unmaking of the quarry, I remembered they called this.

The dogs had been leashed and were held by the villagers. They pulled forward, panting and wagging their tails. Avery reached deep into the doe’s innards and with a hefty tug pulled out a long trail of intestines. He cut them to pieces with a large knife and threw chunks to the dogs; their reward.

I told Fulstowe first, taking him aside. He was shocked out of his normal calm, his eyes opened wide and he stepped backwards, crying, ‘What?’ in a voice that made everybody turn. Then he collected himself, his face setting in tight lines.

‘Best not tell everyone at once,’ I said quietly.

‘I must tell Master Hobbey and the boys.’

I looked on as Fulstowe went to Hobbey, then Hugh, then David, speaking quietly to each in turn. Their reactions were entirely different. Hobbey had been watching the unmaking with an indulgent smile, his composure restored after his fall. When Fulstowe told him he stood still for a moment. Then he staggered backwards and would have fallen had not a servant grasped him. He stood, half-supported by the man, staring at Fulstowe as he approached Hugh and David. Hugh frowned, looked unbelieving, but David screamed, ‘Mother! My mother!’ He reached out his hand in a strange gesture, as though clawing at the air for support, but when Fulstowe reached out to him he batted his hands away, then began weeping piteously.

Everyone was looking at the family now, in puzzlement and fear. The women rose from their cushions. Fulstowe stood and addressed everyone.

‘There has been – ’ he paused – ‘an accident. To Mistress Abigail. I fear she is dead. Sir Luke, would you please come with me?’

There were gasps and exclamations. ‘Please,’ Fulstowe said, ‘Master Dyrick, Master Shardlake, come too.’

I stepped forward. ‘Fulstowe, are there any servants who have been on duty waiting on the women the whole morning?’

Fulstowe considered, then pointed to a boy Hugh and David’s age. ‘Moorcock, you’ve been here all the time, haven’t you?’

The boy nodded, looking frightened.

‘Lad,’ I asked, ‘when did Mistress Abigail leave the clearing?’

‘About twenty minutes ago. I heard her tell Mistress Stannard she needed to go to the pissing place.’

One of the ladies spoke up. ‘She did, but she went in the wrong direction. The appointed place is over there.’ She pointed to a little path some way off.

‘Who from the hunting party was back in the clearing by then?’ I asked the servant.

‘Hardly anybody, sir. Sir Luke had returned, then Master Avery, who said the stag had turned at bay. I think everyone else came back after Mistress Hobbey left.’

Mistress Stannard looked at Fulstowe. ‘What has happened to her?’

He did not reply. I said, ‘Master Avery, would you come too?’ He rose, brushing bloody hands on his smock, and followed us back into the trees.



IN THE DELL bluebottles were buzzing round the wound on Abigail’s brow. Corembeck’s mouth dropped open. ‘Murder,’ he breathed. Dyrick for once said nothing, staring at the corpse in horror.

‘I thought it best to keep that quiet for now,’ Fulstowe said. ‘You, Sir Luke, are the magistrate. What should we do?’

‘Who found the body?’

I stepped forward. ‘My clerk and I.’

‘We must send to Winchester, for Coroner Trevelyan. At once.’ Corembeck put a hand to his brow, where sweat stood out.

‘Why is Avery here?’ Fulstowe asked me, nodding to the bloodstained huntmaster. ‘This is hardly appropriate—’

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