'I know. I wonder whether Mistress Ettis has the stomach to take the issue of the woods forward? I suspect the villagers will rely on her.'
'She seemed a woman of spirit to me. Reminded me a little of Tamasin, only older. Now come, let's get these letters open.'
In his room, Barak tore open Tamasin's letter and read it eagerly, while I perused Guy's. It was dated four days previously, the twelfth of July:
Dear Matthew,
I have received your letter. You will be pleased to hear that Tamasin continues very well, though increasingly tired as her time approaches. At home Coldiron has been surly since I called him to order, yet not impertinent. Josephine seems to have gained a little confidence—I heard her tell young Simon, who was saying again how he wished he could go to fight, that war is a wicked thing and she wished heartily God would stir up a universal peace among his people. I was pleased to see it, though it turned my mind back to that time she swore in French.
I have visited Ellen again. On the surface she seems returned to normal, cheerful and working with patients as though nothing had happened. She told me she was in good sort and I need not call again. But she did not mention you at all, and I sensed much hidden feeling under the smooth surface.
As I was leaving the Bedlam, Hob Gebons came to me and said that two days before Keeper Shawms had a visit from Warden Metwys. Gebons, knowing your concern to be informed of all that might concern Ellen, tried to overhear, but they spoke low and he could hear little. He told me though that at one point voices were raised: Metwys shouted that 'she' must be moved if her mouth is no longer safe, and Shawms replied you had the Queen's protection and he would not do it.
Matthew, I think you should return, as soon as you can.
Your loving friend,
Guy
I looked up at Barak. 'What does Tamasin say?' He smiled. 'That she is bored, and tired, and heavy. She wants me home.' He took a long breath of relief. 'What about Guy?'
I passed the letter over to Barak and opened the one from Warner. It was dated yesterday, he had got it to me fast. When I opened the letter I understood why; inside was a little folded note in the Queen's own handwriting. I broke the seal. It was dated the day before, 15 July, from Portchester.
Dear Matthew,
I have received your letter, and was shocked to hear of the death of poor Mistress Hobbey. It seems there is little or nothing against Master Hobbey, and if that poor boy does not wish to proceed we should not entangle him in the coils of Wards at this time. I know that Mistress Calfhill will agree.
We have just arrived at Portchester Castle. The King will be travelling to Portsmouth in two days. Latest reports of French numbers and the progress along the Channel of their ships are very troubling. You should leave now, return to London.
I turned to Warner's letter; it was brief, the script without his usual care and written in a hurry.
Dear Matthew,
