'I was a fine archer in my youth,' Dyrick said complacently. 'Now I am teaching my son. Though I thank God he is only ten, too young to be called up.'
'Master Shardlake will not want to see you boys practising that dangerous sport,' Abigail said. 'One of the servants will end with an arrow through his body one of these days.'
Hugh turned cold eyes on her. 'Our only risk of being shot, good mistress, is if the French land. They say they have over two hundred ships.'
Hobbey shook his head. 'All these rumours. A hundred, two hundred. What a tumult. Three thousand men have been levied in north Hampshire and sent to Portsmouth. Hoyland village, like all the coastal villages, is exempt from recruitment, with the men kept in the militia ready to march to the coast when the beacons are lit.'
'They are recruiting heavily in London,' Dyrick said.
'I accompanied our local magistrate on a review of the village men. For all that some of them are ruffians, they are stout fellows who will make good fighting men.' Hobbey's face took on a preening expression. 'As lord of the manor I have had to supply them with harness. Fortunately the nuns had a store of old pikes and jacks, even a few rusty helmets, to meet the manor's military obligations.'
There was silence round the table for a moment. I thought of Leacon's men repairing the musty old jacks they would have to fight in. Hobbey looked at me, eyes glinting sharp in the candlelight. 'I believe you are personally acquainted with the Queen, Master Shardlake.'
'I have that privilege,' I answered carefully. 'I knew her majesty when she was still Lady Latimer.'
Hobbey spread his hands, smiling coldly. 'I, alas, have the patronage of no high personages. I have risen only to be a country gentleman.'
'All credit to you for that, sir,' Dyrick said. 'And for your fine house.'
'These smaller religious houses can be turned to fine residences. The only disadvantage is that this one was also used as Hoyland parish church, so we have to go to the next parish on Sundays.'
'With all the oafs from the village,' Abigail added tartly.
'And our status means we need to go each Sunday,' Hobbey added in a weary tone. Clearly, I thought, this is no religious family.
'How many nuns were here, Nicholas?' Dyrick asked.
'Only five. This was a subsidiary house of Wherwell Abbey, in the west of the county. I have a picture of the last abbess but one in my study, I will show you tomorrow.'
'Her face all wrapped up so tight in her wimple,' Abigail said with a shudder.
'They used to send disobedient nuns here,' David said. 'Ones that had had monks' hands at those wimples, and elsewhere—'
'David, fie, for shame,' his father said. But he spoke mildly, giving his son an indulgent look.
Hugh said quietly, 'Some nights, sitting here, I seem to hear faint echoes of their prayers and psalms. Just as we still faintly smell the incense.'
'They deserve no sympathy,' Hobbey said flatly. 'They lived as parasites on the rents from their woodland.' I thought, as you do now.
'They would be able to make fine profits today,' Dyrick said. 'The price wood is fetching.'
'Yes. This is the time to sell, while the war is on.'
'There will be good profits from your land and Master Hugh's too,' I observed.
Dyrick raised his eyebrows at me. 'Master Hobbey is laying up a fine store of money for Hugh.'
'You are welcome to see my accounts,' Hobbey said.
'Thank you,' I answered neutrally, knowing those could be doctored.
'For when I am twenty-one, a grown man,' Hugh said quietly, then laughed, a bitter little sound. Abigail sighed deeply. I thought, that woman is wound so tight she could explode.
Hobbey passed the wine around. Dyrick placed his hand over his cup. 'I will have no more, thank you,' he said. 'I prefer to keep my mind sharp.' He looked at me meaningfully.
'What happened to the nuns when they left?' I asked.
'They got good pensions.'
'Old Ursula was one of the nuns' servants,' Abigail said. 'She wishes they were back, you can see it in her.'
'We needed someone who knew the place,' Hobbey said, an impatient note entering his voice.
'She looks at me insolently. And those other servants, they're all from the village. They hate us, they'll murder us in our beds one night.'
'Oh, Abigail,' Hobbey said, 'these fears and fantasies of yours.'
The servants came in again, carrying trays of custards and comfits. As we ate I noticed something odd about the light. The candles seemed to be flickering and dimming. Then I realized that huge numbers of moths were flittering round them, as they had been at the campfire the night before. They caught their poor wings in the flames and fell and died, more moths at once taking their place. 'Some fool servant has left a window open,' Abigail said.
Hobbey looked at the candles curiously. 'I have never seen so many moths as this summer. It must be to do with the strange weather we had in June.'
