I drew deep whooping breaths as Barak ran across and helped me into a sitting position. Avery was helping Hobbey to his feet. Gasping, I looked round. A villager was holding Oddleg, who did not seem injured, though Hobbey's horse lay kicking in the undergrowth. The men from the village were running up to us. In the centre of the path lay the stag, surrounded by the hunters, an arrow protruding from its chest. As I watched, it took a long, shuddering breath, twitched and lay still. Hugh came up and stood over it, bow in hand, his face a sheen of sweat. Young Master Stannard ran up and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Well done, Master Curteys. What a shot!'
A slow smile of satisfaction spread across Hugh's features. 'Yes,' he said. 'Yes, I did it again.'
Hobbey was breathing fast, clearly shaken. Hugh glanced at him, then looked at me. 'You are hurt, sir,' he said. 'There is blood on your wrist.'
I touched my arm, there was what felt like a deep cut below the elbow. I winced. 'I must have landed on a piece of wood.'
'Let me look,' Barak said.
I removed my doublet and rolled up my sleeve. There was a nasty cut on my forearm, blood leaking fast. 'You need that bound up,' Barak said. 'Here, let me cut off that sleeve, the shirt's ripped anyway.'
As Barak tended my wound, Hobbey stepped over to his ward. 'Hugh,' he said, his voice shaking, 'thank you, you saved the hunt. Maybe even my life.'
Hugh gave him a wintry smile. 'I told you, sir, I would make a good shot on the field of battle.'
A horn sounded from somewhere deep in the wood. 'They've killed the does,' Sir Luke said. 'Here, you men, move the stag to the side of the path so the cart can come up. And help Master Hobbey's horse.' The fallen animal was brought to its feet, fortunately uninjured though trembling violently. Four villagers grabbed the stag by the antlers, and dragged it, trailing blood, to the verge.
THE HUNT DISPERSED, Hobbey ordering everyone to walk or ride back to the clearing. A servant led his limping horse away. Hugh left with the two young gentlemen, enjoying their congratulations. Avery went up the path to fetch Fulstowe and David, who must have been too far up the path to have heard the horn. Hobbey stood, dusty, his clothes torn, rubbing his pale hands. 'I am sorry I fell on you, sir,' he said. 'Will your arm be all right?'
'I think so. Come, Barak, let us go back to the house.' I stood, but at once the wood spun round me. Barak helped me sit down again.
'You've had a shock. Rest here awhile.'
Dyrick laughed. 'Be careful, Nicholas, or he'll find some way of suing you for trespass against the person.'
'Be quiet,' Hobbey snapped. Dyrick's face darkened and he looked as though he were about to say something, but then he turned and stalked away down the path, just as Avery reappeared with Fulstowe and David. David looked at the stag, the arrow stuck deep in its chest. Fulstowe stepped close. 'A fine shot,' he said admiringly. 'We should raise cups to Master Hugh tonight. He deserves the heartstone as a new trophy.'
'Had the stag run on to us,' David said sulkily, 'I would have got him. It should have been my kill.'
'God's death, boy,' Hobbey snapped. 'It knocked Master Shardlake and I over. It could have hurt us badly! Fulstowe is right, you should be congratulating Hugh.'
David's eyes widened. I had never heard Hobbey shout at his son before. David cried out, 'Oh yes, Hugh is always better than me! At everything. Hugh, Hugh, Hugh!' He glared at me. 'Hugh that the hunchback thinks so badly treated.'
'Go home!' Hobbey pointed at his son with a trembling finger.
David muttered an obscenity and crashed away into the wood, clutching his bow. I glimpsed angry tears on his face. Hobbey turned to Fulstowe in time to catch him smiling at the exhibition. His eyes narrowed. 'Go, steward,' he said. 'Meet the cart and tell them to get this stag loaded up.'
'Yes, sir,' Fulstowe said, an ironic touch in his voice. He too walked away.
'Agh, my hands,' Hobbey said. 'I need to find some dock leaves. Avery, come with me, you know these woods.'
Avery's eyes narrowed at being addressed like a household servant; nonetheless he accompanied Hobbey down the path. Barak and I were left alone with the dead stag. The birds, driven from the scene by all the clamour, slowly returned to their roosts, and their song began again.
'This'll be some story to tell Tammy when I get home,' Barak said.
'Dyrick offered me a deal on costs before the hunt,' I said quietly. 'If we leave tomorrow after Priddis's visit, each side will pay their own. I think it's because of David. I think I must accept.' I sighed. 'The mysteries of this house will have to be left to themselves.'
'Thank God for that.' Barak looked at me, a rueful smile on his face.
Creaking wheels sounded on the path. Half a dozen men guided the big cart we had seen at the clearing down the lane. It was dripping blood from the does and fauns, which must already have been taken to the clearing.
