The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [139]
‘I owe you our bet,’ Totton said absently.
‘So you do, Henry,’ Burrard agreed cheerfully, understanding his friend’s need. ‘We can settle up tomorrow.’
‘I must go out and look for them,’ Totton suddenly declared a few moments later.
‘Henry, I beg you.’ Burrard laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘The best thing you can do is wait here. It’s impossible to see anything out there. But when your son comes back soaked to the skin after walking halfway along the coast, the best thing is for him to find you here. I’ve already got four men out looking in the likely places.’ The fact that two of them had already returned all the way from Keyhaven and reported no sighting of Seagull’s boat was a piece of information he did not share with Totton for the moment. ‘Come, tell that pretty servant girl of yours’ – this was a description of the poor girl that would have surprised most people – ‘to bring us a pie and a pitcher of red wine. I’m starving.’
So while he thus ensured that Totton ate something, Burrard sat with his friend in the empty hall, saying little, while Totton stared ahead as if in a trance.
Yet even Burrard would have been most astonished had he known what his friend was thinking of.
It had been the day before the race when Henry Totton had gone to see Alan Seagull.
The mariner had been alone, mending his nets, when he had seen the quiet merchant approaching and had been surprised when he stopped in front of him.
‘I have some business with you,’ Totton had begun, and as Seagull had looked up enquiringly, he had proceeded: ‘There’s a great deal of money on tomorrow’s race.’
‘So they say.’
‘You don’t bet, though.’
‘Nope.’
‘You’re wise. Wiser than me, I dare say.’
If Seagull agreed he did not say so. It was an unexpected thing for Totton to admit, but not half so unexpected as what came next.
‘I hear you’re going to win.’
‘Oh?’ The mariner’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where’d you hear that?’
‘My son. Told me last night.’
‘And why’ – Seagull looked down at his nets again – ‘would he think that?’
‘He won’t say.’
If that was true, Seagull thought, then young Jonathan had kept his secret better than his own son. But was it true, or had this merchant come to threaten him in some way? ‘I expect it’ll depend on the weather,’ he said.
‘Perhaps. But you see,’ Totton went on quietly, ‘the reason I bet against you originally was because I didn’t think you’d care to win.’
There was a long pause.
Seagull stopped mending his net and gazed at his feet. ‘Oh?’
‘No.’ And then, speaking softly, the merchant mentioned two illegal owling runs Seagull had made, one for a Lymington merchant, another for a wool dealer from Sarum. The first had been five years ago, the second more recent. But here was the interesting thing: young Willie could not possibly have known about either. Wherever Totton had got his information, it wasn’t from the boys. ‘So you see,’ Totton concluded, ‘when I bet Burrard five pounds on the Southampton boat, it was because I reckoned that even if you could outsail it, you wouldn’t want everyone to know. At least, the probability lay that way.’
Seagull considered. The merchant’s reasoning, of course, was quite right. As for his information, it seemed a waste of time to dissemble. ‘How long’ve you known?’ he asked simply.
‘Years.’ Totton paused. ‘Each man’s business is his own. That’s my rule.’
Seagull looked up at the merchant with a new respect. Knowing when to keep your mouth shut was the highest virtue for the fishermen, just as it was for the forest folk. ‘You had business with me?’
‘Yes.’ Totton had smiled. ‘Not that sort. It’s about the race. If my boy’s right and you are planning to win, then that alters the probabilities. And I’m in for five pounds.’ He paused. ‘I’ve heard that Albion wants to bet five pounds that you lose. So I’m asking you to take his bet. You won’t really be betting – I’ll provide the money. And I’ll pay you one pound whichever way it goes.’
‘You’re betting against yourself?’
‘Hedging.’
‘If you pay