'No, sir. God gave me but little strength. I envy those strong lads.'
'A cosy scene,' a sneering voice said. We turned to find Dyrick in the doorway, Hobbey beside him. Dyrick too had donned his lawyer's robe.
'Who has been feeding that dog?' Hobbey asked sharply.
'Me, sir,' Feaveryear answered nervously. 'He is such a merry little fellow.'
'You will be no merry fellow if my wife finds out. Only she feeds him—she thinks he has a delicate stomach. Lamkin, go find Mistress.' The dog turned and waddled obediently out of the kitchen. Hobbey turned to Ursula. 'You should not have allowed him to feed Lamkin,' he snapped.
'I am sorry sir. I could not see through the steam.'
'I think you saw well enough. Be careful, goodwife.' Hobbey turned to me, his voice smooth again. 'Well, Brother Shardlake, perhaps you could say how you wish to proceed. As you see, Hugh is available now.'
I had decided to interview the others before Hugh, to try and get some sense of this strange family. 'I thought we might take your deposition first, sir. Then Fulstowe's and your wife's.'
Hobbey looked at Dyrick. 'Is that agreeable to you?'
Dyrick inclined his head. 'Very well.'
'Then I will tell the boys they may go hawking this morning; they asked if they might.' Hobbey took a deep breath. 'Let us begin. We can use my study.'
'I wish Barak to be with me, to take notes,' I said.
'I have brought some paper and a quill, Master Hobbey,' Barak said cheerfully. 'If you could let me have some ink.'
'We do not need clerks,' Dyrick snapped.
'Clerks usually attend when taking depositions, do they not?' I looked at him levelly. 'It makes for greater accuracy.'
'If we must,' Dyrick said with a sigh. 'Come, Feaveryear,' he continued, 'if Barak is attending you must too. More unnecessary costs for Master Shardlake's client to pay.'
HOBBEY'S STUDY was a large ground-floor room, lavishly decorated. There was a wide desk with many drawers, pigeonholes on the wall above, and several beautifully decorated wooden chests. Chairs had been set in a semicircle facing the window. On one wall I saw a portrait of a Benedictine nun, her neck and head swathed in starched white folds and a black veil.
'The second to last abbess of Wherwell,' Hobbey said.
'An interesting face,' I replied. 'Watchful yet contemplative.'
'You appreciate painting, Master Shardlake.' His face relaxed and he gave me an oddly shy smile.
'We should begin, sir,' Dyrick said a little sharply. He took two inkpots from the desk, passing them to Barak and Feaveryear.
Hobbey invited us to sit and took a chair by his desk. There was a large hourglass on it, a beautiful greenstone one with clear glass, full of white sand. He turned it so the sand began to fall.
'To begin, sir,' I said. 'Would you tell me a little of your background? You said last night you had lived in Germany?'
Hobbey glanced at his hourglass, then folded his slim, well-manicured hands in his lap. 'As a boy I got a job as a messenger, running between the wool merchants and the German traders at the Steelyard. Then I went to Germany to learn the trade myself, came back and in time became a member of the Mercers' Company.'
'When did you meet the Curteys family?'
'It was seven years past,' Hobbey continued in the same quiet, even tone. 'The monasteries were going down like bowling pins, everyone was looking for bargains at the Court of Augmentations. And I wanted to retire from my business.'
'An early retirement, was it not?' I would not ask whether he had been in debt; not yet.
'I had been in the trade since I was ten, I was bored with it. I learned the lands of this priory were for sale and came down here. I met John Curteys at a local inn, God rest him. He was interested in buying some of the priory woodland. I could not afford to buy it all as well as the nunnery, so we agreed he would take the larger portion. We were both wool merchants and we became friends. But then John and his wife died suddenly, as you will know.'
'And you applied for Hugh and Emma's wardship.'
Hobbey spread his hands. 'That is no mystery. I knew the children. And as the lands they inherited marched with mine it made commercial sense for everyone for Hoyland to be managed as a unit. I paid a good price, and every penny went into Hugh and Emma's account at Wards.'
I looked at Dyrick, who was nodding slowly. I guessed they had rehearsed all this last night. I had been in practice long enough to tell.
'So taking the children's wardship was a commercial venture?'
