Tombland (The Shardlake series Book 7)

by C. J. Sansom

  I asked, ‘May I have copies of all the documents you have? It will save me having to get them from the court in Norwich.’

  ‘Very well. Your lad can make copies of the case file while you see the Lady Elizabeth. She will be expecting you by now. I will call Mistress Blanche to accompany you.’ He rang a bell on his desk. A servant entered, and was sent to find her. ‘There is a bench just down the corridor, wait there till she comes. I will have the papers put in a room for Master Overton to do the copying.’ He stood, came over and shook my hand, looking at me as seriously as ever he had. ‘Remember, Matthew, the Lady Elizabeth is young, she is learning care and caution in a hard school, but still does not always see what is in her best interests. Do not work this case overmuch, Matthew. Talk to people, as discreetly as you can, attend the Assizes. Keep me informed of developments. But do not overwork it.’

  Chapter Three

  We found the bench Parry had indicated, opposite a window giving onto an intricately designed knot garden. There were still a few daffodils in the flowerbeds, extremely late in the season though it was.

  ‘Daffodils are a Welsh emblem, aren’t they?’ Nicholas observed. ‘No doubt they gladden Master Parry’s heart.’

  I spoke quietly, keeping an eye out for passing servants. ‘I think it has needed gladdening these last months. First Seymour’s treason, now this murder.’

  ‘He just wants us to check everything is done properly, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He’d rather steer clear of the whole business. I see his point of view.’

  ‘Should not justice be done?’

  ‘Of course. But we both know that it can be – hit and miss.’

  ‘The Lady Elizabeth wants us to do what we can.’

  I looked at him. ‘You do not like Master Parry much, do you?’

  ‘He is too much the politician.’

  ‘He is loyal. I have always respected that. And young as she is, Elizabeth commands here now. He must obey her, but protect her, too.’

  ‘So what if we get to Norfolk and discover John Boleyn is innocent?’

  ‘Then we tell the authorities. But come, let us not think too far ahead. We know only the bones of the case so far.’

  Nicholas smiled. ‘A change from land conveyances, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. It certainly is.’ I smiled. ‘I see you are drawn to this.’

  ‘It will be good to get out of London for a while.’

  I sighed. ‘I too have become weary of late. And I confess this is – intriguing. And it should hold no danger for us. At least,’ I added, ‘I hope not.’ For a moment I remembered the terrors I had suffered in the past from my involvement with the great ones of the realm, but reflected that this was hardly in the same league. And I genuinely felt the need for a change. I said to Nicholas, ‘As I told Master Parry, we have none too much time. It is a long way to Norwich.’

  ‘At least this rash of local disturbances is over.’

  ‘Remember the new Book of Common Prayer is to be used in all church services from Sunday. A lot of people won’t like it.’

  Nicholas looked at me. ‘You have a copy, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I bought one when it first came out in March.’ I was silent a moment, then said, ‘The services and psalms in English at last. And Cranmer’s translation of the services from the Latin is beautiful.’

  ‘Does the new service truly say the bread and wine do not become the flesh and blood of Jesus on consecration by the priest?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, the Prayer Book does not go so far. It is deliberately ambiguous. I think Cranmer and Protector Somerset do believe the Communion service is only a commemoration of Christ’s sacrifice. But they dare not say that publicly – not yet. This is a compromise, which they hope all will accept.’

  ‘Something people can interpret in their own way?’

  ‘Yes. But no traditionalist will like it. They will want the old Mass, in Latin.’

  ‘So there may be more trouble, over religion this time?’

  ‘These last two years people have accepted things I would once have thought impossible – the taking down of all the images and stained glass, the closure of the chantries. But this may be a step too far for some.’

  We sat quietly a moment. Nicholas had an open-minded tolerance in matters of religion, which I admired when so many young people cleaved to extremes. As for myself, once an ardent reformer, I had scarce known what I truly believed for some time.

  Nicholas asked, ‘Do you think Thomas Seymour went – well – all the way with the Lady Elizabeth last year?’

  ‘I think even he would not have been foolish enough to do that, which is some comfort. But tush, we should not discuss that here.’ I had heard the chink of keys, and a moment later Mistress Blanche appeared round the corner, hands clasped before her. She directed Nicholas to an office to do his copying, and ordered me to follow her.

  *

  THE LADY ELIZABETH sat behind a wide desk covered with books and papers. Unlike her brother the King or her elder sister Mary, as his heir, Elizabeth had no canopy of state to sit under. She was dressed in black, a French hood on her head from which her long, auburn hair fell to her shoulders, a token of virginity. I wondered if she wore black still for Catherine Parr, or whether, like the relative austerity of the Hatfield furnishings, it was more a sign of her loyalty to Protestant sobriety. Her face, a long oval like her mother’s but with the high-bridged nose and small mouth of her father, made her remarkable, if not beautiful. The square front of her dress showed the full breasts of a girl almost grown, but otherwise she was thin and pale, with dark rings under her brown eyes. She was studying a document as I entered, her long fingers playing nervously with a quill. Blanche announced, ‘Serjeant Shardlake, my Lady,’ and I bowed deeply as she moved to take a position beside Elizabeth. Blanche kept her eyes on me; I had no doubt everything we said would be reported back to Parry.

  Lady Elizabeth studied me a moment, then said in her clear voice, ‘Serjeant Shardlake, it is many months since I have seen you.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘Not since you called to give me your condolences after the Queen Dowager died.’

  ‘Yes. A sad day.’

  ‘It was.’ She put down the quill, and said quietly, ‘I know you served that sweet lady well. And I loved her. Truly, despite what some have said.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I remember when I first met you, four years ago was it not? You were with the Queen Dowager, come to discuss a case.’

  ‘That is right, my Lady.’

  She smiled. ‘I recall that I asked you about justice, and you said that all deserved it, even the worst of people.’

  ‘You remember well.’

  She gave a pleased nod of acknowledgement. Always she liked to show off her memory, her intelligence. She continued, ‘How are you faring with turning the money my father left me into land?’

  ‘Matters go quicker now your sister has chosen the land she wants.’

  ‘Oh yes, Mary must always come first. Though we will see how she fares when the Prayer Book comes in. She will have to get rid of all her popish chaplains.’ Elizabeth smiled grimly, then waved the matter aside and sat back in her chair. ‘Justice, Serjeant Shardlake, I know you have always believed in it, and have sometimes sought it in dark corners. Perusing documents about my lands must seem dull by comparison.’

  ‘I grow older, my Lady, and am content with quieter work. Most of the time,’ I added.

  ‘I would have you see justice done now, to my relative and to his poor dead wife. Master Parry will have told you the horrible details.’

  ‘He has. And that you would have me go to Norfolk to’ – I chose my words carefully – ‘examine the details, satisfy myself that justice is done to Master John Boleyn.’

  ‘Yes. Blanche and Master Parry should never have sent that poor woman away.’ She glanced at Blanche, and I was surprised to see that formidable lady colour. Elizabeth’s tone softened. ‘Oh, I know they only seek to protect me, they fear scandal
and the lies told about me round the Protector’s court. But I will have this matter properly investigated. Parry will have told you of his man, Lawyer Copuldyke.’

  ‘His eyes and ears in that part of the world, I believe.’

  ‘Parry suggested I employ him to deal with this matter. Well, I hold no great opinion of Copuldyke. A puffed-up fool. I think you will do better.’

  ‘Thank you for your confidence in me, my Lady.’

  ‘Master Parry has told you to go to Norfolk as soon as possible.’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘And would be glad, I think, if you came back with nothing.’ Her voice hardened. ‘But if you do find something, Serjeant Shardlake, which may affect the outcome of this matter, you are commanded to inform the courts in Norwich. And to tell me.’ Elizabeth looked at Mistress Blanche again. ‘I will tell Master Parry I am to see all correspondence.’

  ‘I shall do all I can.’ I hesitated, then added, ‘Of course, Master Boleyn may be guilty.’

  ‘Then justice must be done,’ she said. ‘If it can be proved. But if Master Boleyn be found guilty, and you find evidence that he did not kill his poor wife, I will make application to my brother for a pardon. Before you leave I will give you a copy under my seal, which you are to give to the judges should the need arise.’ She looked firmly at Blanche, then continued, ‘I understand you are to take Lawyer Copuldyke’s assistant with you. Rough though he is, I hear he is capable. Also that long lad you came with. I saw him arrive with you from my window. He looked to be trustworthy enough.’

  ‘I trust Master Overton entirely.’ I thought, This fractured royal family, how they plan, and calculate, and watch from windows.

  ‘Good.’ Elizabeth closed her eyes a moment, and I sensed how tired she was, and weary. She continued, in a sombre tone, ‘Master Parry is to give you a copy of all the documents in the case.’

  ‘Master Overton is copying them now. I will do my best to ensure justice is done – you may be sure of that.’

  Elizabeth nodded. She sat thoughtfully a moment, then said, with a sad smile, ‘You have never married, have you, Serjeant Shardlake?’

  ‘No, my Lady.’

  ‘Why is that?’ she asked, with genuine curiosity.

  I hesitated. ‘I have a certain – disability – in the marriage market.’

  ‘Oh tush,’ she said, waving a hand. ‘I have known many hunchbacks who have married, and far worse-looking than you.’

  I caught my breath. Nobody else would have dared address the matter with such brutal frankness. Mistress Blanche gave a warning cough, but Elizabeth waved it away, those brown eyes on mine.

  I laughed uneasily. ‘I have perhaps been too demanding where matters of the heart are concerned. More than once I have admired women who were – above my station.’ I regretted saying that immediately, for Catherine Parr had been one of them. I wondered if Elizabeth had guessed, but her look was hard to read. I added lamely, ‘And I am an old whitehead now, I think it too late for me.’

  I had expected her to contradict me again, but instead she nodded, her expression hardening. She said, ‘I have decided that I shall never marry.’

  ‘My Lady –’ Mistress Blanche began.

  Again Elizabeth waved her away imperiously. ‘I am telling everyone, so my intentions may be known.’

  I ventured, ‘But if you should change your mind –’

  ‘Never.’ Elizabeth’s voice remained calm, but her tone was intense now. ‘I want all to know, so there will be no more plots to take me to the altar for the political gain of some man.’ She continued looking at me. ‘I know what marriage can mean, for women of royal station. I saw what happened to Catherine Parr. How the papists plotted to blacken her good name with my father, and have him do away with her. As you well know. And then, her marriage to Thomas Seymour.’ She coloured, the blood rising into her pale face. ‘He married her for her position, and behaved without honour, so that she cursed him on her deathbed.’

  ‘My Lady!’

  Blanche’s voice was insistent now, but still Elizabeth ignored her. She said, ‘First there is love, then marriage, then betrayal, then death. That is what happened to Catherine Parr.’ She added quietly, ‘And one before her.’

  I lowered my eyes. She meant her mother. Elizabeth should not be talking to me like this. As though reading my thoughts, she smiled sadly. ‘I know I can trust your confidence, Serjeant Shardlake. I have known that since I first met you, and I have come to learn how rare a quality that is. And I know that you will ensure – this time – that a Boleyn is given justice, and the murderer of that poor woman who came to me seeking succour, is punished. Whoever it may be.’

  Chapter Four

  While Nicholas completed his copying I was permitted to take a walk through Hatfield Palace Gardens. Under the blue sky, following the pathways between the trees, I could believe that summer had, at last, arrived. Entering a patch of woodland I spied a deer, feeding on the leaves of a low-hanging branch. Two tiny fauns, just learning to walk on spindly legs, stood beside her. I stood stock-still, watching until the doe moved deeper into the trees, the fauns tripping uncertainly after. I sighed, not welcoming the thought of the long ride back to London.

  It was early afternoon when we left; a night’s accommodation had been booked for us at an inn at Whetstone, somewhat over halfway back. Parry’s man Fowberry brought the horses round and saw us off. As we rode down the drive I glanced back, looking at the windows glinting in the sun, and wondered whether the Lady Elizabeth was watching.

  After a few miles my back and legs were already sore. I thought of the coming journey to Norfolk, the longest I had undertaken in several years. I would have an uncomfortable time. I wished I had been less remiss of late in the exercises Guy had set for my back. I wondered whether he himself was better; the next few days would be busy, but I would make time to visit him.

  The road to London was quieter than on the way out, and there were no other riders in sight when Nicholas, beside me, said quietly, ‘Ho, ahead there.’ I saw, walking along the road with their backs to us, a group of a dozen raggedly dressed people. They included a woman and a couple of children, but most were men, one wearing the tattered rags of a soldier’s jacket, the white cross of England on the back. Some of the men had staffs, no other weapons visible save the knives all men carried at their belts.

  Nicholas said, ‘I wonder if those are the people who made the fire we saw last night, that the constable moved on.’

  ‘Perhaps. There are so many on the road these days. They don’t look dangerous.’

  ‘All the same, let’s get by. They shouldn’t be taking the middle of the roadway.’

  ‘There are hedges on either side,’ I remonstrated, but Nicholas shouted, ‘Make way, there,’ and spurred his horse on. I followed. As I passed the little group I had a quick glimpse of faces raw and red from living in the open, straggly beards, scowling expressions. Then we left them behind us.

  *

  THE INN AT WHETSTONE, as at Hatfield, was a regular stopping-point on the Great North Road, and again our accommodation was comfortable. We took supper in the parlour, where a few other travellers also dined. Unlike at Hatfield, here at least we were anonymous. We dined at a table beneath a window, the long June twilight obviating the need for candles. I had spent an hour before dinner going through the papers Nicholas had copied out in his clear secretary hand, and over dinner we discussed them, in quiet tones, both careful to make no reference to Edith Boleyn’s visit to Hatfield.

  The information in the papers was sketchy enough – the coroner’s verdict of murder, the indictment of John Boleyn for the murder of his wife Edith on the fifteenth of May, his deposition proclaiming his innocence, the coroner’s report and, potentially fatally, the deposition of the local constable reporting the finding of a pair of mud-encrusted boots and a heavy hammer with blood and hair on it in the stables on Boleyn’s property. There were also depositions from the labourer who had found the body, and one from B
oleyn’s new wife stating that she believed her husband had been at home that evening. She could not swear to his whereabouts the entire time, however, as he had gone to his study for two hours before coming to bed, and had asked specifically not to be disturbed as he wanted to peruse his land deeds and other legal documents. He was concerned about the dispute with his neighbour Witherington.

  ‘I wonder what that work was,’ I mused. ‘It was a boundary dispute. And the body was found in the ditch forming the disputed boundary. Yet to leave the body in that ditch – it draws attention to the dispute, as well as to Boleyn. Why would the neighbour do that?’ I shook my head. ‘The key to this case is the fact of the body being left in that state in that ditch. It makes one less likely to suspect Boleyn – if he killed her, surely he would have made sure the body was well and truly buried. The only purpose I can think of in leaving it where it was, is to cause maximum humiliation to the dead woman.’

  Nicholas said, ‘Boleyn’s new wife would have had reason to hate her.’

  ‘Wife no longer. Legally, since Edith was alive all the time, the prior declaration of her death is invalidated, and so is Boleyn’s new marriage. Again, if his new wife were involved, she would have wanted the body well hidden.’

  Nicholas thought a moment. ‘There are no depositions from Boleyn’s sons by Edith. Twin boys of eighteen, are they not?’

  ‘Yes. Perhaps they were not at home. What must they have made of it all? Their mother abandoning them – for that is what she did – when they were small, and then her being found like that after all this time. I wonder what the second wife’s relations with them were like.’ I leaned back. ‘Well, we shall find out more from Lawyer Copuldyke tomorrow.’

  ‘When do we leave for Norfolk?’

  ‘I should think Monday.’ I smiled. ‘Do not worry, we shall keep our dinner engagement on Saturday, and you will get to see Mistress Kenzy. But after that we may be away a couple of weeks. I must check with Skelly that all the work is kept in hand.’ I sighed. ‘I am not looking forward to the ride. And I must hire another horse. Genesis is getting old, like his master, and I should have a younger animal for this journey. Your horse should do, though.’