‘Please do not argue,’ Feaveryear said with sudden emotion, his prominent Adam’s apple jerking up and down. ‘You are brothers, Christians—’
He was interrupted by a loud voice calling his name. Dyrick was striding across the lawn. He looked angry, his face almost as red as his hair. ‘What are you doing shooting with the boys? And you, Barak! You were told to keep to the servants’ quarters. Master steward, do you not know your master’s instructions?’
Fulstowe did not reply, but gave Dyrick a cold look. ‘The boys invited us,’ Barak said, a dangerous edge to his voice.
‘So we did, sir,’ Hugh said. ‘For some new company.’
Dyrick ignored them. ‘Come with me, Sam! Quick! Ettis and a bunch of clods from the village are shouting Master Hobbey down in his own study. I want what they say recorded!’
‘Yes, sir,’ Feaveryear answered humbly. Dyrick turned and strode away, Feaveryear following.
‘Come boys,’ Fulstowe said. ‘I think we should go in. And it is not sensible to argue in front of our guests.’ He looked at Hugh and David, and some understanding seemed to pass between the three. They went off after Dyrick and Feaveryear. Barak glanced over the building, eyes narrowed. ‘We could go for a little walk and pass under the study window. It’s at the back of the house. We might find something out. See, they have opened all the windows to let in the breeze.’
I hesitated, then nodded. ‘This case leads me into bad habits,’ I muttered as I followed him round to the back of the house, where a stretch of lawn faced the old convent wall. Raised voices could be heard from Hobbey’s study. I recognized the Hampshire burr of Ettis, whom we had met in the village. He was shouting. ‘You want to steal our commons. Then where will the poor villagers get wood and food for their pigs?’
‘Take care, Goodman Ettis!’ Dyrick’s loud rasp cut like a knife. ‘Your boorish ways will serve you ill here. Do not forget that some of the cottagers have already sold their land to Master Hobbey. So less common land will be needed.’
‘Only four. And only when you threatened them with repossession when they got behind with their rent. And the grant is clear! The priory granted Hoyland village our woods near four hundred years ago.’
‘You have only your poor English translation of it—’
‘We cannot read that Norman scribble!’ another voice with a Hampshire accent shouted.
We were right under the window now. Fortunately the sill was above our heads. I looked round uneasily, fearing some servant might appear round the side of the house.
Dyrick replied forcefully, ‘This grant only says the village should have use of all the woodland it needs.’
‘The area was mapped out, clear as day.’
‘That was done before the Black Death, since when Hoyland, like every village in England, has far fewer people. The woodland area should be correspondingly reduced.’
‘I know what you have planned,’ Ettis shouted back at Dyrick. ‘Fell all our woodland, make great profit, then take the village lands and turn everything over to more woodland. No knife-tongued lawyer will talk us out of our rights! We will go to the Court of Requests!’
‘You’d better hurry, then,’ I heard Hobbey answer smoothly. ‘I’ve ordered my woodsmen to start again on the area you wrongly call yours next week. And you people had better not impede them.’
‘Note they’ve been warned, Feaveryear,’ Dyrick added. ‘In case we need to show the magistrate.’
‘Who is in your pocket,’ Ettis said bitterly.
Then we heard a bang, which must have been the door opening and slamming against the wall. Abigail’s voice cried out shrilly, ‘Rogues and vagabonds! Nicholas, Fulstowe tells me they shot an arrow at the hunchback lawyer in the forest! You villains!’ she screamed.
‘Shot?’ Hobbey sounded shocked. ‘Abigail, what do you mean?’
‘I have just seen Master Shardlake,’ Dyrick said. ‘He looks no worse than he ever does.’
‘He wasn’t hit! But they did it!’
Then I heard Fulstowe’s voice: he must have heard the commotion and come in. ‘Shardlake and his clerk were shot at while riding Master Hugh’s woodland. They surprised a deer: it must have been a poacher warning them off. No one was hurt, nor meant to be,’ he added impatiently.
‘You stupid woman!’ It was the first time I had heard Hobbey lose control. Abigail began to cry. The room had fallen silent. I inclined my head, and we began moving quietly away, round the side of the house.
‘That was getting interesting,’ Barak said.
‘I was concerned someone would come out and see us. And I think we heard enough.’ I frowned. ‘That woman is so frightened.’
‘She’s mad.’
‘It’s hard to know. By the way, did you notice the way the boys took orders from Fulstowe earlier? And from what we heard there Fulstowe doesn’t bother showing much respect to Abigail.’
‘Who is right about the woods?’ Barak asked.