by C. J. Sansom
Josephine turned to her husband. ‘Please, Edward, let go your pride. At least for Mousy’s sake.’
I looked at the baby. ‘That is her name?’
‘It’s Mary.’ Josephine looked fondly at the sleeping baby. ‘But we call her Mousy.’
‘Ay,’ Edward’s tone was more civil now. ‘After Mousehold Heath. Jo and I had gone for a little walk there, back in March, to get some air, then suddenly her waters broke. A hard job to get back, wasn’t it, my love?’
‘It was.’ Josephine sighed. ‘I always wanted a child, to give it the love my father never gave me. But I cannot grow too fond. Half the children in this yard die before they are two.’
I said emphatically, ‘Then let me help Mousy to live.’
Josephine looked at her husband. He bit his lip. Pride was all Edward had left. There was an awkward silence. Josephine looked at Barak. ‘Your poor hand,’ she said gently. ‘Does it still hurt?’
‘I get by.’
‘And your hair, Master Shardlake. It is quite white.’
‘Ay, I grow older.’
Josephine turned to Nicholas. ‘And you?’ He was looking around the hovel with horror. He coughed and ran a hand through his untidy red hair. ‘I fare well. I hope to be called to the bar, perhaps next year.’
‘Then you will need a wife,’ Josephine said teasingly.
‘Ay, and I may have found one.’
Edward said, ‘I fear we have no beer to offer you.’
‘No matter. Perhaps we could take you to a tavern?’ I offered.
He smiled grimly. ‘You would raise eyebrows in the taverns we know. But –’ he took a deep breath – ‘I thank you for your offer to help us. Josephine is right, we must think of the child. We have three months’ rent due. If we could borrow that, it would ease our burdens.’
‘I will give it to you.’
Josephine’s eye strayed to the pile of wool and the spindle on the table. ‘We would ask you to stay. But I must get on with my spinning, Sunday though it is. The woman will be calling for the spun wool tomorrow. But please,’ she said eagerly, ‘come again.’
Edward said, ‘But not wearing those rich clothes. Our neighbours have only just accepted us, Londoners are foreigners to them.’
Nicholas and Barak waited outside, watched by the people of the yard, while I settled the matter of the rent. I said goodbye to the baby, touching her tiny hand. She looked round at me, and smiled. Josephine said, ‘She likes you. She’s just beginning to take an interest in the world. Some people she likes, some she doesn’t.’ It moved me strangely.
*
WE WALKED BACK to the Maid’s Head in sober mood, saying little. Nicholas said, ‘That honest people should live so. I thought it was only lazy bibbers that came to this.’
‘Grow up, Nick lad,’ Barak said impatiently. ‘How many such yards have you seen in London?’
‘Many. But I have never been inside one.’
I said, ‘I have arranged for us to meet them on Tuesday evening, at the Blue Boar Inn. They should be acceptable there,’ I added bitterly.
‘Ay,’ Barak agreed. ‘But you two should dress down.’
‘Edward said we shouldn’t come back to the yard after dark. It’s not safe.’
‘I could have told you that.’
Back in Tombland, the sound of singing was audible from the cathedral. In the alcove by the Maid’s Head the man in the ragged blanket still lay unmoving. On impulse I bent down and shook his shoulder. He did not stir. Carefully, I removed the blanket. I almost gagged at the smell. A young man in his early twenties lay there, his cheeks sunken, his hair alive with lice. His eyes were half open, unseeing. He was quite dead.
‘Looks as though he starved,’ Barak said.
‘Ay.’ I looked over at the cathedral. ‘So much for Christian charity.’
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Toby came to the Maid’s Head at seven. Barak would be busy with Assizes work all week. It was Monday, the seventeenth of June, three days until Boleyn’s trial. The judges would be arriving that evening, and the Maid’s Head was busier than ever.
I laid out what we needed to do that day to Toby and Nicholas over breakfast. ‘First, we see Boleyn, ask him about this Snockstobe, and whether he used any other locksmiths. And after what Reynolds’s steward told me, I need to press him about his relations with his wife. And there is that lack of an alibi. I am sure Boleyn wasn’t telling the truth.’
‘Maybe the prospect of being hanged on Friday will have made him think again,’ Toby said.
‘I hope to God it has. We’ll see. Afterwards, we’ll visit the locksmith, and if he made no copy of the keys, we’ll visit every other locksmith in Norwich. Nicholas and I will do that. If we find the twins took the key from Scambler and made a copy, it throws a whole new light on the case.’
‘Could the twins have been working for someone else?’ Nicholas asked. He turned to Toby. ‘Didn’t you say they and some other young gentlemen did dirty work for Richard Southwell?’
‘So it is said,’ Toby replied.
‘After we’ve seen Boleyn, Toby, I want you to try and trace the brother of this Grace Bone.’
‘That will not be easy, if he’s poor, with no link to a trade guild or someone of rank. There’re thousands like your friend Josephine, living in slums around Norwich, with no reason to advertise themselves to the authorities.’
‘Do what you can. You found Josephine, after all.’ My tone was snappish, for I was conscious how near to trial we were, and the face of the dead man from the night before still haunted my mind. I went on, ‘Where was Edith during those nine years? If this Grace Bone is still alive and in Norwich, perhaps she could tell us something. If we could find where Edith went, maybe we could solve this case.’
Nicholas said, ‘If Edith was not in her wits, she would have needed a protector.’
‘Or a guard.’
I bit my lip. ‘Then either her protector gave up on her, or she escaped from her guard. And made her way to Elizabeth as a last hope. But we’ve no idea.’
‘And we’ve still somehow got to get the twins on their own,’ Nicholas added.
Just then, a shadow fell over our table. I looked up to find a tall, thin man in his late forties, dressed identically to me in the robe, coif and cap of a serjeant-at-law, smiling down at me tightly. He bowed and doffed his cap. ‘God give you good morrow, sir. I did not know any other serjeants were attending the Assizes.’
I rose and bowed in my turn. ‘Matthew Shardlake, of Lincoln’s Inn.’
‘I am John Flowerdew of Hethersett. Most of my work now is local, representing the Norfolk escheator Henry Mynne.’ He smiled again, a thin, insincere smile not reflected in the cold, searching brown eyes under heavy black eyebrows. His narrow face with his large Roman nose, no doubt handsome enough once, had deep lines in each cheek.
‘Are you staying at the Maid’s Head for the Assizes?’ I asked him.
‘Yes. I need to attend in my official capacity. What case are you here on?’
‘I am advising Master John Boleyn in respect of the murder charge against him.’
Flowerdew’s gaze intensified. ‘Ah, there has been much talk about that matter. It looks as though he will hang. Then I shall be responsible for his lands.’
‘I understand you have visited Isabella Boleyn?’
Flowerdew laughed sardonically. ‘Does she still call herself Boleyn? Well, she will be out bag and baggage if Boleyn’s lands pass to the King. Yes, I made a preliminary visit.’
I raised my eyebrows. Flowerdew asked, ‘Will you be attending the ceremony to welcome the judges into the city this evening?’
‘Probably.’
‘Well,’ he said, looking a little put out by the brevity of my responses. ‘I have a meeting with the county justices of the peace to attend.’
Nicholas asked, ‘Excuse me, sir, is there any more news of the troubles in the West?’
Flowerdew frowned mightily. ‘I
t is said they are besieging Exeter, and an army will be sent against them. They have had the insolence to send petitions to the King, demanding the religious reforms be abolished, the Scottish war ended and God knows what else.’
‘It is very serious, then,’ I said.
‘It could hardly be more so. Worse than the stirs in May, which the county gentlemen managed to squash. Though I hear the disturbances in Hampshire have been put down, and the Protector has sent them a pardon. Pardon! The old king would have had them executed! What example is this to the commons everywhere?’
‘I doubt commoners elsewhere will know of it.’
Flowerdew looked at me as though I were stupid. ‘Do you not know that deserters from the Scottish war and other stirrers are inciting rebellion across the country?’ He shook his head. ‘Well, at least the Assizes is well protected; many JPs have brought armed retinues to Norwich. Even if those cowards on the city council think it impolitic to hold the usual feast for the judges. Mayor Codd, there is a wet fish indeed.’ With that he bowed briefly and turned away, gown swirling.
‘He’s a choleric fellow,’ Nicholas whispered.
‘I wonder what he and the Boleyn twins will make of each other if he tries to take over their father’s house,’ Toby said with an unpleasant smile. ‘Or do to each other.’
*
IT WAS ANOTHER hot day, and I was already tired by the time we had walked down to the castle. My back nagged painfully, and I was beginning to fear the long ride from London to Norwich might have done some permanent damage. Once more we passed from the sunshine into the cool dank interior of the castle, and again the gaoler led us down the clanging iron steps. Pools of water from the recent rainstorm lay in the space below, already starting to smell. I asked the others to wait outside, for the matters I had to raise with John Boleyn were delicate.
He lay on his pallet bed, staring into space. His hair and beard were more tangled than ever and he seemed to have shrunk a little. He brightened a little, though, as I handed over the parcel of food Isabella had given me. He unwrapped it and ran his hands over one of the earthenware pots. ‘Dear Isabella,’ he said gently. ‘I shall miss her most of all, if –’
‘Do not give up hope yet, Master Boleyn, we have a useful new lead.’ I was tempted to tell him that if he was found guilty, I had authorization from the Lady Elizabeth to ask for a pardon, but I must keep that news a close secret until after the verdict, and then make my own judgement as to whether the trial and judgement had been fair. It was a heavy responsibility. I told him instead of my visit to Scambler, and the temporary disappearance of the key. He shook his head. ‘I can believe the twins beat up Sooty, but never that they would have killed their mother.’
‘Nonetheless, sir, we must follow this up.’
‘Yes.’ He sighed. ‘They are my sons. But they have shown me no loyalty. Not even visited me here.’
‘So, have you used this locksmith Snockstobe regularly?’
‘Yes, for years. Though I hardly knew him; Chawry dealt with such people.’
‘You have his address?’
‘I think it is in a lane off Tombland.’
‘Good. We should soon be able to find it. Have you ever used anyone else?’
‘No. Chawry has a list of people he employs for certain jobs.’ He frowned. ‘Sooty could have missed the key when he first went looking. He was good with the horses but otherwise – well – scatterbrained.’
I took a deep breath. ‘There is something else I must ask you, about Edith, and it is personal.’
He smiled sadly. ‘Such considerations weigh little given what else is at stake.’
‘I went to visit Master Gawen Reynolds. Gerald and Barnabas were there.’
‘Ay, they always got on well with their grandfather. They resemble him, you might say.’ He looked at me directly. ‘Reynolds wants me dead, you know.’
‘Yes, I think he does. He was not helpful. Have you ever met his steward, a man called Vowell?’
Boleyn shook his head. ‘I do not recall him. But remember, sir, I have not been to his house since I moved Isabella into Brikewell. The twins have often visited, but I have not been welcome.’
‘Vowell is discontented in his post –’
Boleyn smiled sardonically. ‘With that bad-tempered rogue and his acid-faced wife, I’m not surprised. And now Gerald and Barnabas too –’
I said bluntly, ‘According to what Vowell told me privily, Edith came to her father once, years ago, and complained that you had – well, tried to assert your marital rights by force. Her father sent her packing, saying she had made her bed and must lie on it.’
Boleyn looked away. ‘Do you believe I would do that?’ he said quietly.
‘You must tell me.’
He looked me directly in the face. ‘Even if I had wished to assert my rights, I would never have forced Edith. But I can believe she went and told her father a pack of lies behind my back.’ He shook his head angrily. ‘My wife was mad towards the end, Serjeant Shardlake, quite mad.’
‘I apologize, sir. But I was told the story, so I had to ask.’
Boleyn nodded, and waved a hand. We sat in silence for a moment, then I said quietly, ‘There remains your alibi. Do you still cleave to your story that you were in your study during those two hours, between nine and eleven in the evening?’
He hesitated a moment, then said, ‘Yes. I was there, alone.’
‘If you were elsewhere, no matter why, you must say. It could make all the difference to you, and to your wife.’
He shook his head. I persisted, ‘I will be frank, sir, I do not think you have been truthful with me. Please, if there is any way of saving yourself, tell me now.’
For a second Boleyn hesitated. Then he said, ‘I was in my study.’
I sighed. ‘Well, if I can find other new evidence, we can present it at the trial. As well as the locksmith, I intend to interview the twins about their attack on Scambler.’
He looked up sharply at that. ‘Be careful.’
‘We will. We are also trying to trace Grace Bone, as she left your employ just before Edith vanished nine years ago. In case there is something new she can tell us if she is still alive, or her family can. I understand she gave you only a week’s notice of her leaving.’
‘Yes, notice which she did not even take. Just left the same day.’ Boleyn shook his head. ‘They could not find her nine years ago; she may be dead by now.’ Then he looked at me with sudden sharpness. ‘Do you think something might have happened to her as well?’
‘It is well worth exploring. Her disappearance just a little before Edith’s was strange.’
‘I always thought she was just another who had had enough of Edith, even though they had seemed close.’ He sighed. ‘Well, the twins could not have been responsible for that. They were nine at the time.’ He fell silent.
I said, ‘I shall see you again tomorrow, or at worst the next day.’
He smiled wanly. ‘And then at the trial.’
*
I REJOINED NICHOLAS and Toby outside. I said, ‘I still think he is lying, that he went somewhere on the night of Edith’s death, perhaps to meet someone, and has some important reason for hiding it.’
‘Or used the time to kill her,’ Toby said flatly.
Nicholas said, ‘For once, I agree with you. Remember, we are here to investigate the circumstances, not represent Boleyn. He is not our client.’
I thought a moment. ‘No, he is not. You are right. But there are matters we have discovered that need investigation. The locksmith especially.’
‘Witherington seemed to think Boleyn a weak fellow,’ Toby said. ‘Someone whose lands might be occupied with impunity. Yet he fought back, and hard. And a weak man would not have brought Isabella into his house in defiance of local opinion. And all who know him say he has a temper.’
Nicholas asked, ‘How did he react to what Michael Vowell told you?’
‘He denied ever trying to force himself on Edith. He
thinks she probably lied to her father. Said she was mad. What I do not understand is that, if he still cares so deeply about Isabella – who, as Flowerdew was keen to point out this morning, will be put out on the street if he’s hanged – that, surely, would move him to tell the truth about his alibi, if he is lying. Could the truth be something damaging to Isabella?’ Then I burst out, ‘God’s death, every question only leads to another question.’
*
MASTER THEOBALD AT the Maid’s Head was keen to help as usual, and after some brief enquiries among the staff he was able to tell us that Snockstobe’s shop was in a little lane running between Tombland and Elm Hill.
We found the shop, which had a sign showing a pair of crossed keys over the narrow door. Inside, it was gloomy, with the sharp tang of metal in the air. Nobody was at the counter, but I could hear tapping from a little room at the back, and called out. A tall, thin lad of about sixteen in the blue smock and cap of an apprentice hurried out.
‘Good morrow, lad,’ I said civilly. ‘We seek Master Snockstobe.’
‘He’s out delivering some keys; he should be back soon.’
‘We will wait.’
He looked at the robes Nicholas and I wore. ‘Do you need a key or lock made? Or – is it legal business?’
I did not answer, instead asking, ‘I understand your master has been employed for some years by Master John Boleyn, of Brikewell.’
He looked at us apprehensively. ‘I believe so,’ he answered cautiously. ‘Don’t he be in the castle gaol, awaiting trial at the Assizes?’
‘Yes. We are looking into the case, trying to talk to everyone who knew him. I am Serjeant Shardlake. What is your name?’
‘Walter, sir. But you must talk to my master about all that.’ The boy looked distinctly nervous now.
‘Of course. I understand his sons, Gerald and Barnabas, may have brought you some work recently,’ I added non-committally.
The boy shook his head. ‘Please, sir, you must speak to Master Snockstobe. It’s not fair to threap me with questions. Master’ll pash me if I talk about his business.’
‘He means beat him,’ Toby explained.
Walter shifted anxiously from foot to foot, clearly afraid of Snockstobe.