Heartstone by C. J. Sansom Page A

filed quickly.'
    'I understand. Were you told the man that laid the Bill of Information has died?'
    'Yes.' He shook his head sadly. 'The plaintiff dead, a lawyer instructed four days before the hearing, no depositions, no papers. Sir William will be placed in difficulties at the hearing. The proper procedures have to be followed. The interests of young children are at stake, you see.'
    'I would be willing to show good appreciation for any help you can give me now. I hope to have fresh depositions shortly.' I slipped my hand under my robe, to my purse, 'Master - '
    'Mylling, sir, under-clerk.' He turned his palm slowly upwards. I glanced at his young colleague, still putting away papers. 'Oh, don't heed him,' Mylling said. 'Five shillings in the new money to see all the papers about the wardship, three in proper silver.'
    I blinked. The whole legal and government system was lubricated by bribes. Money or expensive gifts were passed to officials from parties to legal cases, merchants looking to supply the army, people wishing to buy monastic land. But usually these presents were made semi-covertly, described as gifts in token of personal esteem. And those who asked for too much too often, as rumour said Rich had done last year, got into trouble. For a clerk to ask a serjeant blatantly for money like this was remarkable. But this, I reflected, was the Court of Wards. I handed over the money. The young clerk went on with his filing, quite uninterested in what was clearly routine business.
    Mylling's manner became friendly. 'I'll get you on the record, sir, and fetch the papers. But, sir, I tell you in your own interest, you need witnesses that can give some credibility to Master Calfhill's accusations. I am being honest with you, as I was with Master Calfhill when he came.'
    'Michael Calfhill saw you when he made the application?' I asked.
    'Yes.' Mylling looked at me curiously. 'Did you know him?'
    'No. I only took instructions from his mother yesterday. What was he like?'
    Mylling thought a moment. 'Strange. You could see he'd never been in court before. Just said terrible things had been done to this young ward, he wanted it brought before Sir William at once.' Mylling leaned his elbows on the desk. 'He seemed wild, distracted. I wondered if he was a bit brainsick at first, but then I thought, no, he is - ' he thought a moment - 'outraged.'
    'Yes,' I said. 'That fits.'
    Mylling turned to his assistant. 'The papers, Alabaster,' he said. The young man had been listening after all, for he immediately began rooting in the dog-eared piles, quickly fetching over a thick bundle tied in red ribbon. Mylling untied it and passed me the top paper. A Bill of Information, filled out in a neat hand, the signature in the bottom corner the same as that on the suicide note. I read:
I, Michael John Calfhill, do humbly petition this Honourable Court to investigate the wardship of Hugh Curteys, granted to Nicholas Hobbey, of Hoyland Priory, Hampshire, anno 1539, monstrous wrongs having been done to the said Hugh Curteys; and to grant an injunction to avoid Nicholas Hobbey's possession of the ward's body.
    I looked at Mylling. 'Did you help draft the application?' I asked. Clerks were not supposed to do that, but Michael Calfhill would not have known the legal formulae and Mylling would probably have helped for cash.
    'Ay. I told him the bill should strictly be signed by a barrister, but he insisted on doing it himself, at once. I said he should tone his language down, but he wouldn't. I did try to help him. I felt sorry for him.' I saw, rather to my surprise, that Mylling spoke truly. 'I told him he'd need witnesses and he said he'd talk to some vicar.'
    'May I?' I reached for the file. The paper beneath the application, as I expected, was the defendant's reply to the bill. Signed by Vincent Dyrick, it was a standard defence, bluntly denying that any of the allegations were true. The other papers were much older.
    'Is there anywhere private I