‘Michael kept it till he died?’ Hugh asked, his voice hoarse.
‘Yes, he did.’ I laid the cross on the bed beside him. Hugh reached out and grasped it. He took out a handkerchief, wiped his eyes, then looked at me.
‘Mistress Calfhill remembers my sister?’
‘Very fondly.’
He was silent a moment, grasping the cross tightly. Then he asked, ‘What is London like now? I have been here so long. I remember little more than the noise, people always shouting in the streets, and then the quiet of our garden.’ Again I sensed a weariness in him that a boy of his age should not feel.
‘If you went to university you could meet new people your age, Hugh, discuss books from morn to night. Master Hobbey must make provision if you want to go.’
He looked up, gave a tight smile, then quoted: ‘ “In study every part of the body is idle, which encourages gross and cold humours.” ’
‘Toxophilus?’
‘Yes. You know I wish not to study but to go to war. Use my skills at the bow.’
‘I confess I think Master Hobbey right to stop you.’
‘When you go to Portsmouth on Friday, will you see your friend the captain of archers?’
‘I hope so.’
‘David and I are coming. To see the ships and soldiers. Tell me, were there lads my age among those archers? I have seen companies on the road to Portsmouth where some soldiers looked no older than me.’
I thought of Tom Llewellyn. ‘In truth, Master Hugh, the youngest recruit I met was a year or so older than you. A right well-built lad.’
‘I am strong enough, and skilled enough, too, I think, to bury a well-steeled arrow in a Frenchman’s heart. God give them pestilence.’ He spoke with passion. I must have looked surprised, for he flushed and lowered his head, rubbing one of the little moles on his face. Suddenly the lad seemed terribly vulnerable. He looked up again. ‘Tell me, sir, is Master Dyrick your friend? They say lawyers argue over cases but are friends outside the court.’
‘Sometimes they are. But Master Dyrick and I – no, we are not friends.’
He nodded. ‘Good. I dislike him. But often in this life we must spend our time associating with those who are not friends, must we not?’ He gave a bitter little laugh, then said, ‘Time goes on, sir. I should not detain you.’
‘Perhaps when I return we may discuss Toxophilus, and your other books.’
He looked up, his composure restored. ‘Yes, perhaps.’
‘I look forward to it.’
I left him clutching Emma’s cross.
AS I RODE along I thought again of Abigail saying she did not feel safe to have the hunt, her husband replying that he could not bear the isolation here any more. What were they frightened of? Was there some connection to our being shot at the day before? Whatever was being kept hidden at Hoyland, I felt Hugh knew at least something of it. Then there was the trouble with the villagers. I reflected that the chain of events at Hoyland was typical of a landlord seeking to destroy a village and take the land for his own purposes. I had seen the pattern many times at the Court of Requests. Village politics here was typical too: independent small landowners such as Ettis taking the lead, and some of the poor villagers being intimidated into selling their leases back to the landlord.
By the time I reached the turning for Rolfswood the sun was well up and it was becoming hot. I had expected a poor country track, but the road into Sussex was well maintained. I had ridden about a mile when I noticed a smell of burning, and remembered the charcoal burners from our ride down. To my right a wide path cut through a high bank into the forest. Curious, I urged the horse onto the path.
A few hundred yards in I came to a glade where a large, beehive-shaped clay structure stood, taller than a man, smoke rising from an opening at the top. Piles of small branches were set around the clearing. Two young men sitting on a mound of earth rose as I appeared.
‘Burning charcoal?’ I asked.
‘Ay, sir,’ one answered. Both had black faces from their work. ‘We don’t usually work in summer, but they want as much charcoal as they can get for the foundries these days.’
‘I understand they are casting cannon now.’
‘That’s over in the east, sir. But there is plenty of work for the small West Sussex foundries too.’
‘The war brings good profits,’ his friend added, ‘though we see little of them.’
‘I am heading for Rolfswood. I believe there used to be an ironworks there that burned down.’
‘Must have been a while ago. There’s no iron worked round here now.’ The man paused. ‘Would you take a drink of beer with us?’
‘Thank you, but I must get on my way.’ They seemed disappointed and I thought it must be lonely work out here, with only the charcoal pile for company.