Tombland

by C. J. Sansom

  The three left the room, and there was the sound of a lock turning in the door. I picked up one of the broken shards of vase from the floor. Then I sat down. I found myself shaking, for I knew that the twins would have done exactly as they said. I jumped when the door was thrown open again. The steward and two servants manhandled a cursing, struggling Barak into the room, shoved him to the floor and locked the door again.

  Barak said heavily, ‘So those twins got away again. They have the luck of the devil.’

  ‘Not luck,’ I said. ‘Just rich contacts in the right places.’

  He smiled. ‘Every day you sound a little more like a camp-man.’

  *

  AN HOUR LATER, our anger ebbing only slightly, Sotherton’s steward unlocked the door and showed us out of the house, suddenly as polite as though we were ordinary visitors. It was dark as we made our way to Edward and Josephine’s house. Edward was there, and I told them of my visit to the Sotherton house, and stressed that they expected an army from London.

  Josephine said, ‘But surely now the Protector sees our strength he will negotiate with us.’

  ‘We do not know that, Josephine. And if forces do come against us, as I heard today, it will likely be Norwich they’ll aim for first. I must report everything I have learned to Captain Kett.’

  She looked at Mousy, asleep in her cradle, then at her husband, who nodded. She looked at me. ‘You truly think we would be safer at the camp.’

  ‘I do.’

  Her shoulders slumped wearily. ‘Then we will come.’

  Chapter Sixty

  The next morning, I was wakened, as usual, by birdsong. Remembering that Edward had said Captain Kett would likely wish to speak to me about what Sotherton and Reynolds had said about an army, I rose wearily from my bed of bracken and dressed. Beside me in the hut Barak was still fast asleep.

  I stepped out into yet another warm morning. In this weather it was a great relief to wear only my shirt, hose and wide hat; sometimes in court in summer, in cap, coif and robe, I felt as though I were being boiled alive.

  Everyone else in the Swardeston group of huts was still asleep. I looked into Simon and Natty’s hut; Simon had been given a potion by Dr Belys and had almost immediately fallen into a stupor. Between their hut and Hector Johnson’s, another had been hastily erected for Josephine and Mousy. She had been very quiet travelling to the camp, holding Mousy tightly to her, but the friendly welcome given her by Goody Everneke, who seemed always happy to have someone new to mother, had relaxed her. Goody Everneke had cuddled Mousy, and given Josephine an extra helping of that evening’s meal – stewed dove, no less. We owed much to that kind woman.

  I washed hastily and took some bread and cheese from the hut where food was kept, eating it as I walked to St Michael’s Chapel. I glanced across at the great Italianate palace of Surrey Place, where Mayor Codd and the other senior Norwich councillors were being held. The guard opened the door to me. Kett was already up and about, his wife clearing away dishes from the big table while he, his brother William, John Miles and a couple of others in half-armour stood poring over a diagram at the other end of the table. Kett smiled and waved me forward; he was in a better mood after taking Norwich. I wondered again at the relentless energy of this extraordinary man.

  ‘Master Shardlake! God give you good morrow! I hear you were in Norwich yesterday.’

  ‘Yes. I met old friends, and some old enemies, too.’ I told him of my terrifying encounter with the twins at the Sotherton house.

  ‘I have ordered our guards on the road to watch for them. Their friends, John Atkinson and the others, have fled the city, too.’

  ‘Michael Vowell told me he sent some men to find his old employer Gawen Reynolds, but the men were paid off.’

  William Kett frowned. ‘Too much of that is happening. It is bad for discipline.’

  ‘I know,’ Miles said. ‘And discipline’s what we need now.’ The two men with him, officers appointed by him, I guessed, murmured agreement.

  Kett said, ‘Indeed. Norwich must be properly organized. Yesterday I appointed Alderman Augustine Steward as acting mayor. He is aged and respected, and has agreed to act under my orders. Our supporters in the town, like Edward Brown, will be watching him carefully, as he knows. I dare say he would betray us like Mayor Codd, given the chance, but for now he will organize the city efficiently.’ He turned to me and asked, ‘Did you visit young Overton at the castle?’

  ‘Yes. He is to be moved in with John Boleyn; an attempt was made to poison Boleyn recently.’

  ‘I am sorry I did not have the time to discuss the boy with you earlier. I am happy to have him tried at the Oak, and allow the serious questioning of Lockswood and his witnesses, to establish the truth of what was said.’ From his look I sensed he, too, had doubts about Lockswood. I would rather Nicholas had been freed, but realized Kett could not give him special treatment, so the chance to question Lockswood and his witnesses closely was the best option available.

  ‘Thank you, Captain Kett. I would be grateful for that in due time – but for the moment I would rather he stayed at the castle to help protect Boleyn.’

  Kett inclined his head. ‘As you wish.’ He had no interest in John Boleyn one way or the other. He studied me. ‘You look tired.’

  I said, ‘I found it hard going into Norwich, and seeing – well, the bodies of those killed in battle.’

  ‘This is war now,’ William Kett said soberly.

  His brother added, ‘Which brings me to the main thing I wished to speak to you about. I understand Gawen Reynolds and Nicholas Sotherton boasted that an army is being prepared in London.’

  ‘They did. They seemed very confident of it.’

  Miles nodded. ‘Our spies say that is the gossip among the gentlemen in London. But we do not yet know the army’s size, or who will lead it.’

  One of the other men present said, ‘I’d stake my life it will consist of the Norwich landowners who escaped, and those loyal to them. It will be organized by our enemies on the Council. Perhaps the Protector does not even know.’

  William Kett nodded. ‘Many in the camp are saying that. It is possible.’

  ‘It is,’ Robert agreed. ‘But it was a royal Herald who came, and his message was in the King’s name.’

  The other man who had spoken earlier said, ‘Or maybe someone in borrowed robes, impersonating the Herald, a servant of the gentleman who read us a false message.’

  ‘That was the dress of a royal Herald,’ I said firmly. ‘I have seen it on State occasions. Richly dyed, with gold thread. I should say it would be near impossible to create an exact copy in little more than a week. And to masquerade as a royal Herald would be treason.’

  ‘The great lords of Norfolk have plenty of money, and care nothing for the law.’

  Robert Kett looked at his brother. ‘That is being said in the camp?’

  ‘By some. There is disagreement.’

  Robert sighed. ‘Well, we must wait and watch, and do what we can to fortify Norwich. And parties are being sent out to the countryside again today to bring back more resources – we need all we can get. We expect to find more gentlemen, who will be tried at the Oak tomorrow. I shall need your help there, Master Shardlake, and Barak’s. I will be too busy to preside, as will my brother, but I have appointed one of the Hundred delegates, William Doughty of North Erpingham, to preside in my place.’ He sighed. ‘Some of our men have been caught thieving, too, and will be tried later in the week.’

  ‘We shall be there.’ I paused, then asked, ‘What is to happen to Mayor Codd and the others taken to Surrey Place?’

  ‘They will be held there, as hostages to ensure Augustine Steward’s good behaviour.’

  William said, ‘Mayor Codd was in a bad state, weeping and shaking and saying he was forced to obey the Herald’s orders. I think it has all been too much for him.’ He laughed gruffly.

  Robert looked at me closely. ‘Do I still have your loyalty?’

  ‘I ga
ve you my oath to help, Captain Kett, and after what the Herald said, have no doubt now that I am on your side.’

  ‘Thank you.’ In one of his spontaneous gestures he reached across the table and shook my hand. ‘I had to ask; I know that bloodshed such as happened yesterday is not part of your familiar work.’

  I sighed heavily. ‘I have seen bloodshed before.’

  ‘William and I must tell the men to concentrate fully now on military training. I am going to address them at the Oak after Master Conyers’s sermon.’

  ‘All who can fight must be trained, and fast,’ Miles added.

  ‘We should get on,’ William said, ‘if we are to plan the taking of Great Yarmouth and set up men along the road to Norwich to harry the coming army.’

  ‘Of course.’ Kett smiled at me again. ‘Thank you, Master Shardlake.’

  *

  RATHER THAN ATTEND KETT’S address, I returned to the huts in the hope of getting some more sleep. Josephine sat beside Goody Everneke, helping with her sewing, Mousy in a little basket at her feet. She rose to greet me. ‘Master Shardlake, you look tired.’

  ‘I am all right. And you?’

  She smiled. ‘You and Edward were right. I feel safer here. Jack is awake,’ she added. ‘He has had a letter from Tamasin.’

  ‘Has he?’ I went over and entered the hut. Barak was sitting there, staring gloomily into space. He looked up at me. ‘What news from St Michael’s Chapel?’

  ‘Codd and the Norwich gentlemen are to be held in Surrey Place. Kett is to address the men on preparations for training. They hope to set up diversionary forces on the road to Norwich, and take Great Yarmouth.’

  Barak nodded, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. ‘I’ve had a letter from Tammy. Jesu knows how it got here from London, sheer chance, according to the man who brought it up from the Blue Boar Inn. She never got my last letter. I’ll show it to you; come, let’s get out of this fug.’

  We left the hut and walked a little way off. He pulled a letter from his shirt, handing it to me. It was dated 19 July, four days before, and its tone was desperate.

  Husband,

  It is over a month since I heard from you last; I do not know if you are even alive. I have made enquiries everywhere. I even went to Master Shardlake’s house, but his steward has heard nothing of him since he went to Norfolk. I went to the house of Mistress Beatrice Kenzy, whose daughter you told me Nicholas was courting. Mistress Kenzy’s mother treated me with great haughtiness, but said they had heard nothing from Nicholas. All in London know of the rebellions across the country, and that the trouble in Norfolk is bad. I pray you are not a prisoner of the rebels. Goodwife Marris and I have had a hard time, vittles grow ever more expensive. The city is under martial law, and full of soldiers – people say an army is to be prepared to march against Norfolk now, as well as those sent to Devon and Oxfordshire. There are Italian mercenaries here, dressed like peacocks. They cry obscenities after women, and the constables do naught to stop them. Four rebel leaders from Essex and Kent are to be executed as traitors in three days, and the King is to ride through London. There are rumours of the very end of the world.

  I beg you, Husband, if you are alive, please write. I want nothing in the world but to see you again. The children constantly ask where you are, and I cannot comfort them.

  Guy has written this for me again since you know my lettering is not good. He himself is a little better, and sends his wishes and prayers.

  Your loving wife,

  Tamasin

  Barak sat on a little knoll, his head down. ‘I am ashamed,’ he said. ‘So much of what brought me here was my resentment against her. Now I realize I have left her alone and desperate.’ He shook his head. ‘But I have given my oath to Captain Kett.’

  I sat beside him. ‘You can write back. I can ask Captain Kett if he can do his best to ensure your letter gets through.’

  ‘Thank you. But in this chaos there is no certainty.’

  I laid a hand on his. ‘It is hard for you, yet I am glad in a way. I always knew you still loved Tamasin, that there was a way back for you both.’

  He looked me, his eyes narrowing suddenly. He said slowly, ‘I cannot leave, but you could. It’s easy, the eastern side of the camp is too large to be policed.’

  I shook my head. ‘I, too, have given my oath. Besides, I realize now how little I have to return to.’ I smiled. ‘Well, at least my steward Goodcole and his family have not run off with the silver.’

  ‘If you got home, you could tell Tamasin I am safe,’ he pressed.

  ‘Is that all you are thinking of?’ I asked, suddenly angry.

  He looked at me. ‘No. I have been thinking about what might happen to you if the rebels lose. Consider your future. You are widely known to have helped Captain Kett.’

  ‘Only to dispense justice, and it is also known that I have been responsible for some gentlemen being set free for lack of evidence. I have done less to help the camp than Codd or Aldrich.’

  ‘They turned their coats when the Herald arrived.’

  I smiled and spread my hands. ‘They were in Norwich. I was in the camp, I had no such option. Or so I can argue.’

  Barak looked at me seriously. ‘A good lawyer’s argument. But imagine what Lord Chancellor Rich may make of it. And do you think the Lady Elizabeth would protect you then? You have heard nothing more from her or Master Parry, though if any letters got through, it would be from them. They will be keeping quiet.’

  ‘You may be right. But I have made my stand. I shall not move.’

  ‘Then you are even more stubborn than I.’

  ‘Perhaps. But consider Tamasin’s letter. She talks of leaders of the Kent and Essex Rebellion being executed –’

  ‘Which means the camps there have been put down –’

  ‘It shows the Protector’s strategy is what one would expect with a rebellion – execute the leaders but give the small fry pardons. There are hundreds of small fry. Mayor Codd is small fry. So am I. So are you.’

  He looked at me seriously. ‘That may be the strategy elsewhere, but it could be a lot rougher here. Remember the Herald’s message and promise of vengeance. Think what has been done to the rulers of the countryside and of Norwich these last two weeks. Imagine what they will do to everyone here if they find themselves in charge once again.’

  ‘And if I leave, what becomes of Nicholas, and John Boleyn?’

  ‘I’m tired of hearing about Boleyn – but Nick, yes, you must see him safe.’ Barak rubbed his hand across his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. That arsehole Toby Lockswood – how about I have a private ten minutes with him?’

  I smiled. ‘Better not.’

  We sat in silence for a while. Then I said, ‘What happened at the Sotherton house yesterday while you were outside has set me wondering again about who murdered Edith Boleyn, and the locksmith and his apprentice.’

  He grunted. ‘My money is still on the twins. They’re insane. And that John Atkinson, who Natty’s friend recognized at the beach, he’s a friend of theirs.’

  I shook my head. ‘I haven’t forgotten the expression on their faces when we had that fight in Norwich. Their absolute denial that they would kill their mother. I believed them. And when I accused them again yesterday they honestly seemed not to know what I was talking about. And they are not born actors. I think their hatred for their father stems partly from their belief that he killed their mother. And Atkinson – he and his friends are just swords for hire.’

  ‘Do you think Boleyn’s neighbour old Witherington is off the list?’

  ‘Yes. I saw him in the prison. Someone who fell apart as easily as he has would not have the strength of body or mind to organize three murders. I always thought so. But then there are Sir Richard Southwell and John Flowerdew, who both seem to have a strange interest in Boleyn’s land. But they are far away.’

  ‘And Boleyn’s estate – it’s not that big – the stakes have always seemed too low to co
mmit such a very public murder. Then follow it with others.’

  ‘Yes. One with all the marks of a passionate hatred.’

  ‘What about old Gawen Reynolds?’ Barak asked. ‘He seems to encourage the twins in their outrages. He could have paid someone to kill his daughter.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Hatred? He’s full of it.’

  I shook my head. ‘He couldn’t have involved Southwell’s young thugs. According to Michael Vowell, Reynolds and Southwell had a quarrel years ago and hate each other. Reynolds also tried to stop the twins mixing with Sotherton’s people, but he couldn’t control them. And he himself is old, and frail, and with Vowell gone there are only women left in the household.’ I frowned. ‘And Jane Reynolds, poor creature, had nothing new to tell me yesterday. Though I still think Peter Bone knows something, perhaps something his late sister told him – but he won’t tell.’

  Barak said, ‘There are still Isabella and Daniel Chawry to consider. If they are lovers they have a motive for trying to kill Boleyn – and the opportunity. Or if Chawry is in love with her and she still loves her husband, which seems more likely, he has a motive to get Boleyn executed for murder. And as that didn’t work, to murder him instead.’

  ‘I don’t see him having the money to pay for help in organizing four killings. And whoever did it certainly had help.’

  ‘He had the money to pay for someone to provide the poison, given the money Isabella got from Boleyn. Maybe we’re looking at two separate crimes.’

  ‘Chawry has denied any designs on Isabella.’

  Barak laughed scoffingly. ‘For what that’s worth. And even without Chawry, Isabella had one powerful motive to kill Edith if she came back – with Edith alive her marriage was invalid.’ He looked at me steadily. ‘And she has a strong spirit.’

  I shook my head. ‘I cannot believe it of her. But, you’re right, she has to be a suspect.’ Barak’s eyes had sparked with interest again; I had managed to distract him. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘the twins are gone now, as are Southwell and Flowerdew. But we can keep an eye on the Reynolds household, Chawry and Isabella, too. And it will be interesting to see how Nicholas gets on with John Boleyn.’