Doubt flickered across Leacon’s face. In her uniform Emma was utterly convincing. He said quietly, ‘If I have to, I’ll find out the truth here and now. In front of everyone.’
‘There is nothing to find, Captain.’ I had to admire her courage as she made her bluff.
Leacon took a deep breath, then reached out and lifted off her close-fitting helmet. He stared at the short brown fuzz, studied her face again, then said, ‘Remove your jack, soldier.’
There was muttering up and down the ranks. The men still stood in position, but most had turned their heads to stare. Slowly, Emma removed her arrowbag, then took off her jack and dropped it to the deck. She stood there, the wind that had risen ruffling her white shirt. Leacon put his hands to her collar and ripped the shirt open. The heartstone was tied round her neck in its tiny leather pouch, over a white linen band. The band was drawn tightly across her chest, but above it the tops of her breasts made a slight swell. I feared Leacon might force her to untie the band but he had seen enough. There was an excited muttering among the men.
‘What’s that? Is it a bandage? Is he hurt?’
‘Shit, I think it’s a woman.’
‘Be quiet!’ Sir Franklin called out. Leacon spoke quietly to Emma. ‘Why have you done this? Why have you made a mockery of my company?’
Emma crossed her arms. ‘I wanted to fight, sir. You’ve seen that I’m a good archer.’
Sir Franklin stepped up to her. He raised his hand and I thought he would strike her, but he turned to Leacon, and said, voice trembling with fury, ‘Can she be got off the ship?’
‘Maybe. If a boat comes over.’
‘Go and find one. Get her out of sight for now. Under the aftercastle. Anywhere.’ He looked round at the gawping soldiers. Emma stared at me, arms held tight across her breasts, her eyes full of pain and anger.
The Mary Rose lurched violently. Some of the men staggered again, grabbing at the rails or reaching up to the enclosing netting. I had been aware of more whistles and shouted commands from below, and now I heard a loud rattling from the stern; the anchors were being raised. Turning round, I saw huge white sails billow out from the bowsprit and foremast, snapping and cracking in the rising breeze. Over to the left sails unfurled on the Great Harry too, then on the other ships. The Mary Rose rocked once more, then began moving slowly forward towards the galleys. It had begun. We were going into battle.
Chapter Forty-seven
SEVERAL SHORT, PIERCING whistle blasts sounded from the foot of the ladder. Sir Franklin shouted, ‘To positions!’
Leacon looked at Emma and me grimly. ‘Go down to the space under the aftercastle and stay there!’ he said, then walked away to his men. Most still had their heads turned in our direction but now they were looking past us to where, beyond the forecastle and the raised foresail, the galleys faced us. There was another crack and billow of canvas as the lateen sail at the back of the ship was set. Though I could feel little movement – just the ship rising and falling gently – the Mary Rose was approaching the galleys at considerable speed. I looked at the soldiers again; Carswell gave me a frightened smile and shrugged, as though to say, now we have all come to it, and you too. Pygeon, sweating in his brigandyne, crossed himself. Leacon went to stand in the centre of the aftercastle beside Snodin, near where Emma’s jack lay. ‘Stay steady, lads,’ Snodin said in a quiet, sympathetic tone such as I had never heard him use before.
The deck shifted and I almost fell. A nearby sailor, in position by the topmast rigging, shouted at us, ‘Get your shoes off! Then get off this deck, out of our way!’
I kicked off my shoes and ran to the ladder. Emma hesitated, then did the same. As we reached the hatch, I glanced backwards. The Mary Rose had pulled ahead of the rest of the fleet now, the Great Harry was behind us; all the other ships seemed to be following. Through the open blind of the archer next to me I glimpsed South Sea Castle in the distance. I looked down; far below I saw frothing waves as the Mary Rose cut through the water. My stomach lurched.
I began descending the ladder. I looked back at Emma. She hesitated again, then, with a savage look, followed me.
I clambered slowly down, trying to ignore the pain in my arms and shoulders. On the deck below the handgunners still stood with feet braced looking through their little ports, while on each side of the ladder the gun teams stood ready at the two long cannons. Through the wide door giving on to the walkway above the netting I saw we were still heading fast for the galleys. The two sailors still stood one on each side of the door, likewise staring ahead. Then the Mary Rose began to turn. The port side dipped, pitching me off the ladder onto the deck. I hit my shoulder and cried out with pain. The sailors next to us looked round for a moment. The ship dipped even further, then righted itself.
I tried to rise. Pain shot down my arm. I managed to get to my feet. Emma hesitated, looking at me. I said, ‘I can’t use the ladder.’