by C. J. Sansom
I scanned the crowd. Half the square had been looking up at the Guildhall, and the story of what had happened was being passed around; many glares were thrown at us. ‘Let us get to the inn at once,’ I said. ‘And quietly. Nicholas, this will get back to Kett. Don’t be surprised to find yourself locked up again. Perhaps I will be too, as I guaranteed your behaviour.’ I strode away angrily, leaving the others to follow.
Chapter Forty-six
To my great relief, we found Isabella and Chawry were at an inn called the Black Prince. Isabella looked pretty as ever, but tired. Both she and Chawry seemed to have lost weight. Chawry brought a chair for Isabella and stood beside her when she was seated. His manner, as always, was deferential, but the way he looked at her removed any doubt in my mind that he desired her. Isabella would have been a fool not to see it, and she was no fool. But her manner to him throughout our talk remained that of a mistress to a valued servant. Nothing more.
Isabella turned to Nicholas, looking concerned. ‘Master Overton, what has happened? Are those not old bruises on your face?’
I said, ‘Nicholas has been getting himself into trouble, Mistress Boleyn. But it is a private matter, do not trouble yourself.’
‘Master Chawry and I have wondered what had happened to you. We were worried.’
‘With this rebellion all around,’ Chawry added. ‘These filthy dogs in their Mousehold kennel.’
I explained that we had been taken to the Mousehold camp, but allowed freedom under parole. ‘We were captured outside Flowerdew’s house when I went to get the money he’d taken from you. I got it back.’ I felt genuine pleasure at her look of relief as I handed over the bag of coins.
‘The rebels did not take it?’ Chawry asked in surprise.
‘Not when I told Kett it was all that stood between a good woman and poverty.’
Isabella looked at me, blushing slightly. ‘I thank you, Master Shardlake, with all my heart. Our money was running out. We have barely enough left to get food to take to John in the castle, and pay for our rooms here. We have not been eating as we should.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘I am sorry your quest to help me ended with you all being taken prisoner.’
I smiled. ‘We are well. You would be surprised how peaceable a place the camp is.’
‘Is it, sir?’ Chawry looked again at Nicholas’s face.
‘Not if you are a gentleman,’ Nicholas answered.
I said crossly, ‘One who cannot keep his mouth shut, but rants like a muck-spout.’
Chawry looked at me through narrowed eyes. ‘You are learning rude Norfolk speech, Serjeant Shardlake.’ Clearly he suspected I had at least some sympathy with the rebels. Then he shook his head, remembering his place. ‘But I, too, thank you for what you have done.’ He spoke a little too smoothly, I thought.
‘Can you not escape Norwich now?’ Isabella asked.
‘No. We have been allowed here today, but must return to the camp tonight. I gave my oath. But I thought I might visit your husband.’
Impulsively, she reached out and took my hand. ‘John and I will never forget what you have done.’ I noticed that Chawry looked away, his lips set. I thought, If he were seriously in love with Isabella, he had a motive to see John Boleyn hanged. But Chawry could have no connection with Edith – she had been gone for years before he had even taken up his post.
‘How is John?’ Nicholas asked Isabella.
‘Cheerful enough, though still recovering.’ She held the bag of money a moment, then passed it over to Chawry. ‘Daniel, take charge of this.’
‘There may be no progress on the pardon until these troubles are settled,’ I said gently. ‘The Protector must be much preoccupied. What of you, have you considered returning to Brikewell? I know the twins are gone.’
‘I went back three days ago,’ Chawry replied. ‘The place had been ransacked.’
‘That was the twins’ doing. They are in Kett’s custody now.’
‘Thank God,’ said Isabella in relief. ‘I feared they might come to Norwich.’
‘I think the rebels took things as well,’ Chawry said bitterly. ‘Valuable things.’
‘I know, I was on their march from Wymondham.’
‘They control nearly all the countryside nearby, I believe. They have patrols on the road, and I had insults on my way to Brikewell. They are raiding the manor houses, and may come to Brikewell again. I think it safer for us both to stay here, now we have the money to do so.’
‘So long as Norwich remains peaceful, perhaps that is best.’
‘And I will not leave John,’ Isabella said.
We talked further, and I surprised them when I told them more about the camp, which they had believed a chaotic den of villains.
‘You make them sound like angels,’ Chawry said stiffly.
Barak said, ‘Of course they’re not. There are no angels outside heaven.’
Isabella looked at Nicholas and smiled. ‘You must steer clear of trouble, Master Nicholas. I would not see your pretty white skin disfigured again.’ I thought, She likes a little flirting; she knows how to use men. Then I reminded myself that she had worked for years in a tavern, where flirting with customers was part of the job.
*
STANDING ON THE STEPS of the inn I took a deep breath, then said to Nicholas, ‘As I said, I fear you may be in for more trouble. If you want, take the Maid’s Head proprietor’s advice and leave, try to make your way back to London.’
He looked at me seriously. ‘I thank you, sir, sincerely, but I gave you my oath to stay, and I will not break it. I apologize for what I did earlier. If word gets back, I will face the consequences.’
I considered. ‘Very well. Say you spoke in temper.’ I looked down past the marketplace, to the castle on its high mound. ‘Now, let us go and see how Master Boleyn fares.’
*
THERE WERE FEWER guards outside the castle, with some gone to keep order elsewhere. Leaving Barak and Nicholas outside, I asked to see John Boleyn and was taken to his cell. He was in surprisingly good spirits, the marks around his neck much fainter. He could speak again, albeit croakily. He was thinner, though, and still had that look of shock in his eyes. His cell now had the comfort of some cushions and a little writing table which Isabella had brought him. He thanked me profusely for returning the money. We spoke of the pardon, and I realized he had convinced himself its granting was just a matter of time. I hoped he was right.
He was still allowed to exercise on the roof of Norwich Castle and, accompanied by a guard, we mounted a long flight of stone steps. My back was hurting by the time we reached the top. The guard stayed in the doorway as we walked along the long, flat roof to the battlements. We stood a moment looking out over the busy marketplace and the spires of Norwich. The long drop to the ground, where men seemed as small as dots, made my head spin. I stepped back.
Boleyn had learned from the guards about the rebellions across the country, and the great camp at Mousehold. Like Chawry and Isabella, he was astonished to find I was now there, and that the camp was not a den of iniquity. I told him Kett hoped that soon the enclosure commissioners would arrive, and radical reform implemented. I went on to tell him that the twins and his neighbour Witherington were in rebel custody. He laughed bitterly. ‘I cannot think of a better fate for the three of them.’ He sighed. ‘Do not think me harsh, Master Shardlake, but I say again, I wash my hands entirely of my sons. To come to their father’s hanging and cheer it on . . .’
‘I cannot blame you.’
He pondered. ‘So, the enclosures set up in recent years are being pulled down. What of the freed sheep?’
‘Taken to the camp for food. There has been mighty feasting, but I think now the sheep are being kept penned. I am told there are six or seven thousand people there now, and more coming in.’
Boleyn considered. ‘My small enclosures will no doubt be taken with the others. Unfair, when the real sheep-lords are those like the Pastons and Richard Southwell.’
I thought, but forbore to say, Tenants have suffered on Witherington’s land, and would have on yours, if his assault had succeeded.
He said, ‘You told me Thorpe Wood is being cut down for fuel. That is Paston land. In all this uproar perhaps my own small debts will be forgotten.’ He paused, his expression suddenly calculating. ‘My sons are friends with some of Southwell’s men. He is dangerous. I hired his boys, through my sons, when I learned Witherington would try to take my land. That was wrong. It would be good to see him fall.’ He turned away, looking out over the city. At this height there was a welcome breeze. ‘I wonder what will happen to Norwich,’ he said. ‘I hope Isabella stays safe.’ He turned and looked me in the eye. ‘You realize, of course, that the Protector, and the King’s Council who put him where he is, will never allow common people even the smallest share of rule. That has never happened, and never will, and never should. These camps will be destroyed.’
I inclined my head. ‘Kett’s camp has considerable forces, trained soldiers. I should think the other camps have, too. The Protector may well feel the pressure to make drastic changes. And Kett stresses his loyalty to the King.’
Boleyn looked at me in surprise. ‘Are you become one of them?’
I did not answer.
‘By Jesu, Master Shardlake, I owe you my life and what you have done for me and my wife puts me eternally in your debt. But I advise you, be careful of the waters in which you are treading. They may drown you.’ He shook his head, then changed the subject abruptly. ‘Is Richard Southwell taken by the rebels?’
‘No,’ I answered. I did not add that I had seen him at St Michael’s Chapel.
Boleyn frowned. ‘I thought he would have been.’
‘Have you met him?’ I asked.
‘No.’
I hesitated, then deciding to change the subject said, ‘Isabella is safe, and in good hands with Chawry to attend on her. But I noticed –’
His eyes were at once as sharp as needles. ‘Noticed what?’
‘I think Chawry has – feelings – for your wife. I believe both have behaved honourably but – I thought you should know.’
To my surprise, Boleyn laughed, a harsh cynical laugh that set him coughing. When he recovered himself he said, in bitter tones, ‘Do you think I did not know that, Master Shardlake? The penalty of an older man being married to a young and pretty wife is that others often desire her. Perhaps Chawry, loyal servant though he is, would take Isabella from me if he could. But he cannot; because, you see, though it may be hard for you to believe, we are as much in love as the day we met. Seeing others’ eyes on her is the price I must pay for loving her.’ He frowned. ‘It is a small penalty compared with those Edith laid on me, in life and now in death.’ He fingered the marks on his throat. I thought, Does no one ever pity Edith, think of her terrible and humiliating end? I met Boleyn’s angry gaze, and asked quietly, ‘Have you had any thoughts about where Edith might have been all those years before she returned to Norfolk and was killed?’
He made a gesture of irritation. ‘No. In life and death, Edith was a mystery, and so I think it will remain.’
*
BY NOW IT WAS midday; we found an inn at the top of Conisford Street, and took some lunch. My back, which had been so improved in the camp, was hurting again after a morning walking the Norwich streets, and I was glad to lean against a settle. After lunch, seeing I was tired, Barak asked if I wished to return to the camp, but I insisted I wanted to visit Josephine and Edward, who were nearby, then Scambler’s aunt. I could not help thinking of that poor boy, homeless on the streets.
We made our way to the little courtyard hovel where Edward and Josephine lived; dressed raggedly, we attracted little attention now. I knocked on Josephine’s door. She answered, little Mousy on her hip. The child looked better for some good feeding, smiled happily and stretched out her arms to us. Josephine, though, looked tired and anxious. She stared at us in surprise.
‘Master Shardlake, I thought you had left. Your clothes, you look like –’
‘Camp-men,’ Barak answered. ‘We fell into Captain Kett’s hands. We have a day’s parole in Norwich, so are making visits.’
Josephine ushered us inside and laid Mousy in her cradle. The little girl reached out and grasped my finger, trying to pull me down to put it in her mouth. I said gently, ‘It would not taste nice, Mousy, it is dirty.’
Josephine looked between the three of us. ‘How are you being treated? I have heard from Edward that many gentlemen have been buffled about. Not that a lot of them don’t deserve it, but – Master Nicholas, your face –’
‘He’d be all right if he could keep his mouth shut,’ Barak said. ‘As for Master Shardlake and I, we are well treated.’
‘Captain Kett has asked me to give him legal advice at his proposed trials of the gentlemen. He has promised there will be no severe punishments. I have promised to assist to see the law is observed, so far as it can be in the strange circumstances. But Josephine, keep that quiet. There are those in London and elsewhere who, if they knew –’ I thought of Parry, and Elizabeth. She nodded her understanding.
‘Where is Edward?’ I asked.
She hesitated, then said, ‘Up at the camp. He went at first light. There is a meeting between Captain Kett, his chief soldier Miles and the other experienced soldiers in the camp, with the leaders of their supporters in Norwich.’ I remembered the meeting old Hector Johnson had gone to. She went on, a mixture of pride and anxiety in her voice. ‘Edward is to help coordinate the poor of south Norwich. In case the city fathers decide to close the gates against the camp once more.’ She added, in scarce above a whisper, ‘If that happens, the camp will take over the city. Edward says it will be easy.’
Barak nodded agreement. ‘Norwich has few soldiers, and now we are up on Mousehold the camp-men could easily get across the Wensum.’
Josephine said, ‘I know I can trust you to tell nobody. I support all that Edward and Captain Kett are doing, but – I fear what may happen if there is violence. I remember the past.’
I put my hand on her arm. Josephine was originally a French child taken by English soldiers after her village was burned down during the old king’s wars, and left in the care of a brutish man who called himself her father but treated her like a slave. I said gently, ‘Captain Kett is a man of peace. If the enclosure commissioners come, a display of force may help them get the reforms they want. That, I think, is all.’
‘The old king would have had them all killed.’
‘He is dead,’ Barak said. ‘Protector Somerset is different.’
‘Or so we hope,’ I added quietly. ‘Nicholas, I am sorry to say, keeps getting into trouble. Today he accused Kett of being a traitor in the marketplace. I fear he will be locked up again if word gets back to the camp, which it probably will.’ I looked at her. ‘Might Edward put in a word for him? Say he knows him and that although he is a gentleman he has never oppressed anyone, and is goodhearted, even though he cannot control his mouth?’
She looked at Nicholas and shook her head affectionately. ‘I always thought you a good lad, despite your—’
‘Antrums,’ Barak finished the sentence for her.
‘I will. Edward was not sure if he would be back tonight, but I will speak to him.’
Nicholas took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Josephine. They are right, I must bridle my tongue.’
Beside me, Mousy reached up again for my hand, making little squeaking noises. Josephine smiled and picked her up. ‘She likes you. Those noises she makes, Mousy is the right name for her.’ She kissed the child. ‘When Master Shardlake has clean hands, he may let you play with him.’ Her face became serious. ‘It is her I fear for, if things become violent. I remember what it is like to be a child caught up in war.’
*
OUR FINAL VISIT that day was to Scambler’s aunt, down in Ber Street. I was tired now, my back hurting again. It was early afternoon, the hottest time of day. It would be another long walk back to Tombland, ac
ross Bishopsgate Bridge and up to the camp.
As we made our way Barak said, ‘So Edward is right in the thick of it.’
‘Yes. I suspected so.’
Nicholas shook his head, then laughed. ‘So it has come to this, a gentleman needs the word of a stonemason’s labourer to keep him from trouble. But I always liked him, and Josephine, and for now at least I must accept my situation.’
‘Good,’ Barak and I answered in unison.
*
WE REACHED THE poor little house where Scambler had lived. I knocked on the door, and heard the familiar shuffling and grumbling from within.
‘You!’ His aunt hesitated then laughed, a scratching sound. ‘By heaven, you are come down in the world.’
‘We are held at the camp,’ I said. ‘We have been allowed to visit Norwich, and came to ask after Simon. Have you had any news?’
Her mouth puckered angrily. ‘No, Master Lawyer, I haven’t. And I don’t care where he is, the godless creature. Those who deny the chance of salvation are the most cursed, and Sooty can find his own way to hell. I have enough to worry about, with those rebels up at Mousehold Heath. Some say they are good Protestants, but the Bible tells us to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, not destroy the order which God has created. You can tell Robert Kett that from me.’
And she slammed the door in our faces once more.
Chapter Forty-seven
It was a long, tiring walk back to the camp. As we crossed Bishopsgate Bridge there were still swimmers in the river, trying to keep cool in the heat.
‘I think I’ll have a swim,’ Barak said, raising his sleeve and unbuckling his artificial hand. ‘Haven’t washed for a week. Come on, Nick, boy!’ He looked at me. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ll watch our packs,’ I said. I was not going to display my hunched back before the men of Mousehold camp. Nicholas and Barak disrobed and stepped carefully through the weeds into the muddy water, Nicholas white-skinned, slim but muscular; Barak dark and solid, untroubled by stares at the stump on the end of his right arm. I looked up at the sky, blue and cloudless. Since the thunderstorm several weeks ago there had been no rain; the coming harvest would indeed be bad. I rubbed a painful spot on my hand where I had been stung by one of the burrowing wasps that lived in the sandy Mousehold soil. I had seen adders there, too.