‘Did you hope David might marry Emma? If that happened Emma would have brought her portion of her lands to her husband.’
‘Of course we considered that, but it would have been up to the children.’
‘Did you find another tutor for Hugh and David?’
‘We had a succession of tutors till last year.’ He smiled wryly. ‘They all had to be good archers. Hugh had begun his craze for the bow by then, and David followed.’
‘A succession? How many?’
‘Four, I think.’
‘In five years? That seems a great many.’
‘They were not always satisfactory. And many tutors see teaching as a stopgap, rather than a career.’
‘Michael Calfhill did not.’
‘He might have had his reasons for that,’ Dyrick said, real venom in his tone.
‘And David is not an easy boy to teach.’ Again that sadness in Hobbey’s face. ‘The last man was good, but he left us to travel, visit the continent. That was before this war began.’
‘Might I have their names?’ I asked.
‘If you wish. Though I do not know where they would be now.’
‘Coming to the present, it is surely past time for the boys to consider university or a profession.’
‘I want David here, to learn about the estate. As for Hugh, he has the wit for a scholar and loves book learning. But he has a boyish fancy to go to the war. So I am keeping him here till it ends. Does that not sound a reasonable course, Master Shardlake?’
‘I think you will agree it is in Hugh’s interest,’ Dyrick interjected.
‘Perhaps.’ I paused. ‘Master Hobbey, you gave an account at dinner last night of Michael Calfhill’s reappearance last Easter. Could you tell me again what happened, for the record this time?’
Hobbey repeated the story of Michael’s appearance in the old churchyard, his telling Hugh that he loved him more than anyone. I had hoped Hobbey might slip, say something inconsistent with what he had said last night. But either he spoke true, or he had been well rehearsed by Dyrick.
‘How far must we press this unsavoury episode?’ Dyrick asked when Hobbey had finished.
‘One more thing, Master Hobbey. You have been selling off wood from the land which is part of Hugh’s patrimony.’
Hobbey spread his hands. ‘I would be a poor custodian of his interests if I did otherwise. Between the need for timber for ships and the demand for charcoal for the Sussex ironworks the price has never been so high.’ Mention of the Sussex ironworks again, I thought. ‘I am having part of my own woods felled. There is little other profit to be made here. The rents from Hoyland village and a few cottagers in the woods bring in less than seventy pounds a year, which becomes worth less and less with this great rise in prices. You have seen my accounts.’
‘Indeed. And I would like to take a ride through the woodland Hugh owns, before we meet Sir Quintin Priddis on Friday.’
‘Please do. But it is a large area, several miles deep in parts. Men are at work on the outer fringes now, felling trees, but further in it is old, wild growth, not easily penetrated.’
Dyrick laughed. ‘Do not get lost in there, Brother, or Mistress Calfhill will have to find another lawyer.’
‘I won’t.’ I made my voice as smooth as Hobbey’s. ‘And thank you, sir. I think that will be all, for now.’
Dyrick looked up sharply. ‘For now? You are not allowed innumerable depositions.’
‘I will only ask if something new arises.’ I smiled. ‘And now, if I may, I will see the steward, Fulstowe.’
‘Certainly. He is with my hounds, supervising their feeding.’ Hobbey glanced at the hourglass, where the sand was still falling.
‘I will go and find him,’ I said. ‘I would like a little breath of air. Barak, come with me. And I think I will ride out and see Hugh’s woodlands tomorrow.’
WE WALKED OUT into the fresh morning. A peacock strutted on the lawn, bright feathers glistening in the sun. As we approached, it uttered its mournful cry and stalked away. We followed the sound of barking to the outhouses, and I noted again the many hiding places behind the trees dotting the lawn.
‘What did you think of Hobbey?’ I asked.
‘No fool. But I don’t trust him: his story was too smoothly told.’
‘I agree. But Hugh Curteys is clearly not mistreated.’
‘They intended to marry David to Emma.’
‘That is the way of wardship. But there is something hidden here, I am sure of it.’ I frowned. ‘I was thinking just now of the corner boys. If there is some roguery going on over selling the woodland, and either Sir Quintin Priddis or his son were in London, they would probably be in and out of the Court of Wards all the time. They might have learned of my involvement in this case.’
‘And feared corrupt dealing being exposed, and so tried to frighten you off?’