‘I will, sir. Unless the French get us all first.’ She curtsied deeply, but I could see my lack of success had disappointed her.
Outside it was another hot, still day. We loaded our saddlebags onto Oddleg and the horse Barak had been using. I thought, in three or four days we shall be returning them to the supplier at Kingston.
‘What will you do about the Rolfswood inquest?’ Barak asked after we had mounted.
‘When we get back to London I will make contact with the Sussex coroner. I will ensure Priddis is questioned. I’ll ask the Queen to use her influence if need be.’
‘That will all take time.’
‘I know.’
‘Look there,’ he said quietly. I followed his gaze to where David and Hugh were walking together from the house to the butts with their bows and arrowbags. Hugh turned and saw us. He laid down his bow and came over to me, his expression cold. David simply stood and stared.
‘You are leaving then?’ Hugh said abruptly.
‘Yes. And you will shortly hear the claim in the Court of Wards is to be abandoned.’
‘I wish it had never been started.’
I held out my hand. ‘Farewell, Hugh.’
The boy looked at it, then stared at me coldly again.
‘Will you give farewell to my master?’ Barak asked hotly. ‘Impertinent puppy, all he has done has been to try and help you.’
Hugh met his gaze. ‘Like making me tell the inquest what I felt about Mistress Hobbey? A strange kind of help. And now, I am going to try to distract David with some practice of honest archery.
We may be needed, mere boys as we are, if the French approach up that road.’ He turned on his heel and walked away.
‘Come, Jack,’ I said quietly. ‘Time we were gone.’
AGAIN WE TRAVELLED south through the summer woodland. Trees were still being felled in Hugh’s woods. Two carts loaded with oak trunks, the ends still damp with sap, pulled out of a side track and rumbled south towards Portsmouth.
We pressed on, through the rich summer landscape, the air becoming hotter as the morning advanced. We rode up the long steep incline of Portsdown Hill, hard going for the horses, and crested the escarpment. There we halted and looked down again on that extraordinary view. Nearly all the fleet seemed to be anchored out in the Solent now, only a few small ships lay in Portsmouth Haven. The ships were gathered together in three long lines, except for three – a giant, which had to be the Great Harry, and two other big ships that were sailing east along the coast of Portsea Island.
‘They’re lined up for battle,’ Barak said quietly.
I looked out to the eastern end of the Isle of Wight. Somewhere, out of sight still, the enemy was approaching across that calm blue sea.
AT THE BRIDGE between the mainland and Portsea Island there were large soldiers’ encampments now on both sides of the tidal stream, and heavy cannon. I had put on my lawyer’s robes and we were allowed through when I said we had business in the town. Supplies were still coming, many of the loaded carts heading towards the long line of tents along the coast.
As we rode downhill, Barak said, ‘Those are the royal tents behind that little lake.’
‘Yes.’ I counted twenty of the huge tents, in a myriad of different colours and designs, strung out parallel to the coast. More were being erected.
‘Do you think the King is going to camp there and watch the sea battle if it comes?’
‘Perhaps. Maybe the Queen too.’
‘You have to admire old Henry’s courage.’
‘Or foolhardiness. Come, let’s find Leacon.’
OUTSIDE THE city walls, where men still laboured hard to thicken the mud walls, companies of soldiers were practising manoeuvres: running with long pikes held before them, staging mock battles with bills, improving their archery at makeshift butts. All the men were brown from their time in the sun. Officers, mostly on horseback, rode to and fro supervising them, but I did not see Leacon. There were so many more tents that it was hard to get our bearings. The stink of ordure was unbearable.
We found the place where Leacon’s company had been billeted and dismounted. All the tents in this part of the camp, though, were closed and empty except for one some way off, where a young soldier sat alone, eating bread and cheese from a wooden trencher. I recognized him as one of Leacon’s men. His face was spotted with mosquito bites, and I noticed the long collar above his tunic was frayed, the tunic itself filthy. I asked if he knew where the rest of the company was.
‘Gone to the ships, sir,’ he answered. ‘To get their sea legs and practise shooting from a ship. I’ve been left to guard the tents. They’ll be back tonight.’
‘We saw some warships out at sea.’
‘Yes. The Great Harry and the Mary Rose and the Murrain are out, they said. There’s five companies gone on them.’
‘Thank you.’
Barak asked him, ‘How do you find this life, mate?’