I addressed Hobbey. ‘I would like to talk to Hugh, of course, and yourself and your wife.’
Hobbey nodded. ‘So long as Master Dyrick is present at all the interviews.’
‘And Master David.’
‘No,’ Dyrick said firmly. ‘He is a minor. Hugh is too, but the court will wish to see his evidence despite his youth. David is a different matter.’
I went on, ‘And Fulstowe, and such servants as have dealings with the boys.’
‘God’s death,’ Dyrick said. ‘We will be here till the leaves fall.’
‘Fulstowe certainly.’ Hobbey leaned forward, speaking in the same quiet, even tone but with a steely note now. ‘But my servants know the boys only as masters.’
‘The Court of Wards would not permit random interrogation of servants,’ Dyrick said firmly, ‘unless they had particular knowledge. It undermines the relationship between master and servant.’
Dyrick was right; I had been testing the water. I could not force the servants, or David, to give depositions unless I believed they had particular evidence. I would, though, have liked to talk to David; there was an uneasiness under his spoiled foolishness. And Abigail had spoken of the servants murdering them in their beds, while Dyrick had told me Hobbey wished to enclose the village lands. If the servants were village folk, that might explain Abigail’s fear. It might also mean some would be willing to talk to me.
‘We will leave David and the servants,’ I said, ‘for now.’
‘For good and all,’ Dyrick said emphatically.
‘Then there is the feodary,’ I added. ‘Sir Quintin Priddis.’
Hobbey nodded. ‘I have written to him and had a letter back today. At the moment he is in Christchurch, but he is coming to Portsmouth on Friday. I would suggest we go to see him there.’
‘I would prefer to meet him here,’ I answered. ‘Over the next couple of days I would like to see Hugh’s woodlands, then I hoped Sir Quintin and I could ride Hugh’s lands together. So that I might ask him about the stretches of woodland which have been cut, how much each part fetched.’
‘I doubt he would be able to do that,’ Hobbey replied. ‘Sir Quintin Priddis is an old man, infirm of body though not of mind. And those woods are hard going. If lands have to be ridden his son, Edward, usually does that. And I do not know whether Edward Priddis is with him.’
Dyrick nodded agreement. ‘I think the court would expect you to accommodate Master Hobbey where possible, Brother Shardlake. Can you not see Sir Quintin in Portsmouth? If his son is with him, perhaps he could ride back with us if you insist on riding Hugh’s lands.’
I considered. The King’s party would not be arriving for ten days. Portsmouth was still safe for me. ‘Very well. Provided, Master Hobbey, that you write to him making clear I may request him or his son to come here afterwards.’
Hobbey looked at me seriously. ‘I wish only to cooperate, Master Shardlake, to meet all reasonable demands.’ He emphasized the ‘reasonable’. ‘I will have my books of account sent up to your room,’ he added.
‘Thank you.’ I rose. ‘Then until tomorrow, sir. Fulstowe, I would like to take this letter to Barak. His wife has a baby due soon. Perhaps you would tell me where his quarters are.’
The steward stepped forward. ‘Certainly. He is in one of the old outhouses. I will take you there.’
‘I will not trouble you. I can walk round.’
‘It is dark out there now,’ Hobbey said.
‘No matter. I was brought up in the country.’
WE LEFT THE great hall. Master Hobbey bade us goodnight and climbed the stairs; Dyrick gave me a curt nod and said, ‘Till tomorrow.’ I followed Fulstowe outside. He stood on the steps, looking up at the stars.
‘A fine night, sir,’ he observed, smiling deferentially. I thought, this is a proper steward, loyal to his master, not an oaf like Coldiron. But I did not trust him an inch.
‘Indeed. Let us hope this better weather continues.’
Fulstowe indicated a row of substantial buildings against the side wall of the enclosure. ‘Your servant is in the fourth building down. You are sure you would not like me to accompany you?’
‘No, thank you. I will see you tomorrow.’
He bowed. ‘Then goodnight, sir. I will leave the door open a little for you.’