Tombland (The Shardlake series Book 7)

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘If that is what you both want, I will—’

  At that moment Edward returned, looking round at us cheerfully. ‘Ah, more drinks,’ he said with a smile that seemed slightly forced. ‘Let us have a toast. To Master Shardlake, for bringing old friends together.’

  *

  WE LEFT THE Blue Boar at nine, saying we had an appointment. Edward and Josephine accompanied us as far as Tombland, then headed off to the south. We entered the Maid’s Head and went up to my room. I asked a servant to lend us a horn-lamp. The innkeeper, Master Theobald, was passing and gave us a strange look, noticing the swords we carried and our lowly costume.

  Toby, meticulous as ever, produced a sketch map of northern Norwich. ‘The cockpit is up at St Martin’s Lane, north of the river. To get back to their grandfather’s the twins will be coming along Colgate, then down to Blackfriars Bridge. There’ll be nobody about at that time, though the watch will be on duty. There are many little yards north of the bridge. I suggest we wait in one for when they pass, then step out after them, follow them a little way, then ask to talk to them. Hopefully, they’ll see they’re outnumbered, and won’t want a fight. And then, Master Shardlake, you can ask them what you want.’

  ‘What if they have friends with them?’ Nicholas asked Toby.

  ‘From what I’ve heard of the gentlemanly young thugs they mix with, if there’s a crew of them, we’ll have to call it off. But as they’re coming back early, it’s unlikely.’

  Barak smiled, hefting his sword with his good hand. ‘It’s like the old days, when I worked for Master Cromwell.’

  ‘No it isn’t,’ I answered seriously. ‘We stay strictly on the defensive, unless there’s no alternative.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  We set out for the district of Coslany, or Cosny, as Toby called it, crossing Blackfriars Bridge. The area beyond was much poorer, with a rotten smell in the air which Toby told us came from tanneries. But it was still light, Midsummer Day only a little way off. Once we were stopped by a pair of patrolling constables, their suspicions aroused by three men with swords, but although the others had kept the clothes they wore at the Blue Boar, I had put on my robe at the inn and was able to get us through by saying I was on a visit to a dying client and needed protection in this poor area. Barak was strolling along confidently but I wondered how well he could use a sword with his left hand.

  Toby led us up what he told us was Oak Street. The buildings were mainly old courtyard houses. The courtyards were empty and dim. It was one of these which Toby selected, with a short passage leading into it under an arch. We stood in the yard, which smelled of piss. Toby hid the lamp behind a water-barrel, and I sat uncomfortably on its lip, for my back hurt.

  A little group of gentlemanly revellers passed by soon after, but the twins were not among them. But then, shortly after, we heard more footsteps, and a pair of familiar, identical voices.

  ‘That big cock with the spurs was quite a fellow, wasn’t he?’

  ‘See the other one? Didn’t know there was so much blood in a bird.’

  There was laughter, and then a familiar pair of stocky figures, walking shoulder to shoulder, swords at their belts, passed the entrance. After a moment we stepped out quietly behind them.

  The twins were, though, sharp as cats. They looked round immediately, putting their hands to their swords. Gerald laughed, ‘Fuck me, Barney, it’s the leeching lawyers again. What’s that they’ve got with them, another cripple?’ Without hesitation, they drew their swords from their scabbards. An old woman bent under the weight of a pile of faggots quickly crossed to the other side of the road. Toby and Nicholas had put their hands to their swords, but had not drawn them.

  ‘What d’you want, bent-back?’ Barnabas asked. ‘How did you know we were here?’

  ‘Your grandfather said you’d be at the cockfighting, and coming home early.’

  They looked at each other. ‘Granfer told you we’d be here?’ Barnabas asked, unbelieving.

  Gerald laughed. ‘He’s been taking the piss out of these shitbags.’ He looked at me. ‘Did he tell you we were going back early because he wants to go over our evidence tomorrow morning? We’re all appearing for the prosecution against our father.’

  ‘We know. But we have a couple of questions of our own we thought you might help us with. Particularly concerning a missing key.’

  The twins looked at each other. Clearly they knew what we were talking about. Their expressions changed from mocking to threatening. ‘Right, then,’ Gerald said, ‘let’s get back into that yard you were hiding in, and hear what you have to say. Go on.’ He pointed his sword at my chest. ‘You, Lockswood and the carrot-head, and you, one-arm, keep your swords sheathed, or the hunchback gets run straight through.’

  We looked at each other, then backed into the darkening courtyard. Our plan had gone badly wrong. Grinning confidently, the twins advanced on us. It was Barak who saved the situation, together with the twins’ overconfidence in underestimating him. He suddenly lunged forward and brought the full weight of his metal forearm on Gerald’s sword, unbalancing him and causing him to drop it, then he pulled the sheath from the knife on his artificial hand, and put it to the boy’s throat. At the same moment, Toby drew his sword and brought it down with a clang on Barnabas’s weapon, while Nicholas put his to Barnabas’s throat.

  ‘Drop that sword, you ratsbane,’ Toby said, ‘or we’ll have your livers out!’ His tone was savage, and I realized the full depth of his hatred for the twins.

  The boys’ faces twisted with fury, and Barnabas dropped his sword. Nicholas and Toby held their weapons steady to their throats.

  ‘Got you,’ Toby said with satisfaction. ‘Now, young masters, as Master Shardlake here said, he’d like some questions answered. We tried the civil way, but we should have known better with you.’

  ‘We’ve fuck-all to say to you, fen-suckled churl,’ Gerald answered in a low, furious voice.

  ‘Mammering serf!’ Barnabas added. Whatever else, the twins did not lack courage.

  ‘Then we’ll kill you here,’ Toby answered, ‘and chuck you in the Wensum like you did the locksmith!’

  I looked at Toby, worried. He sounded as though he meant every word.

  ‘You mean Snockstobe, that fell off Bishopsgate Bridge and drowned last night?’ Barnabas asked, with what sounded like genuine puzzlement.

  ‘Like you don’t know,’ Toby said. ‘Answer to our satisfaction and we’ll let you go.’

  Gerald laughed. ‘Why should we believe that?’

  ‘You haven’t much choice,’ Barak said cheerfully. ‘Better get ready to talk.’

  ‘Sure you know how to use that sword, fatty one-arm?’

  For answer Barak went behind Gerald and put his right arm round his neck, holding his sword to the boy’s side as well as the knife to his throat. ‘I can use it, matey, and this knife, too.’ Gerald winced, and for a single second seemed like a frightened boy, but he gathered himself and looked at me, his cold blue eyes glinting.

  ‘We’ll have you all, one way or another, after this,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ll never be safe again, Lockswood. Look out for a quiet knife in the guts from us or our friends one fine afternoon. You three too, so long as you’re in Norfolk.’

  ‘Give us a rest, arsehole,’ Barak said. ‘Are you going to answer our questions, or shall I cut your throat now?’ He pressed the knife a little further into Gerald’s neck, and a bead of blood glistened. Gerald looked at his brother. Barnabas set his lips, then glared at Toby, who moved his sword a half-inch closer to his chest, smiling coldly. Barak, I knew, was bluffing, but I wondered about Toby.

  ‘What’s your fucking questions, then?’ Gerald spat out the words.

  ‘That’s better,’ Barak said, withdrawing the knife. Toby pulled his sword back a little reluctantly. It was getting dark in the yard now, and I fetched the lamp from behind the water barrel. In its glow the square, solid faces of the twins were set, the expression in the two pairs of narr
ow blue eyes, fixed unflinchingly on mine, still threatening. As he moved his head slightly, the long scar on Barnabas’s face seemed to twist like a snake in the lamplight. I looked anxiously up at the blank windows facing us, and said, ‘What if some of the tenants hear us and come out? It won’t look good for us.’

  ‘That won’t happen,’ Toby said. ‘If some of the quarrelsome Norfolk gentlemen come to town for tomorrow’s market are fighting in their yard they’ll be happy to let them get on with it.’

  ‘Very well,’ I said evenly, looking at the twins. ‘Now, I have some things to ask you concerning your father’s case.’

  ‘We guessed that, bent-back,’ Gerald spat.

  ‘First, about your alibi for the night your mother was killed.’

  Gerald frowned, and clenched his hands. ‘Are you saying we had something to do with the death of our mother, you bent bag of shit?’ he said thickly.

  ‘We just want to know the details. We know you said you were at the cockfighting, and had witnesses.’

  Gerald laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. ‘There’s nothing for you there, crookback. We were at the cockfight, with half a dozen friends, then went drinking at the White Lion Inn afterwards. You want names? John Atkinson, servant to Sir Richard Southwell. William Bailey and Michael Hare, also his servants. Edward White, son of Sir George White. We got pissed and all went back to John’s to sleep it off. We had a fight with some turd who tried to get ahead of us at the bar. I hit him over the head with a chair. Knocked him out. The barman will remember, won’t he, Barney?’

  ‘Ay.’ Barnabas grinned: the boys were getting some of their confidence back.

  I said, ‘I met the boy you hit with an axe at Brikewell. His wits are gone.’

  ‘We know,’ Gerald answered coolly. ‘We’ve seen him, slobbering about the lanes. He shouldn’t have come on our land, should he, Barney?’

  ‘No. He’s just a serf, anyway.’

  ‘An assault like that could have you hanged.’

  ‘Bogles to frighten children,’ Gerald answered contemptuously. ‘Witherington hasn’t made a fuss because he knows his trespassing would be brought up. So there you are, you cunts, you won’t get us on that one.’ His mean little eyes narrowed. ‘Who are you working for, anyway? Who’s set you on us?’

  ‘Lockswood works for Copuldyke, Gerry,’ Barnabas said. ‘That means the Lady Elizabeth. Thomas Seymour’s little whore. She’s out to save our father because of the family name.’

  I said, ‘Don’t forget that if your father hangs his lands go to the Crown.’

  ‘We’ll get them back,’ Gerald said. ‘Appeal to the Protector, get our own lawyers. With father’s debts, that great barn in London will probably have to go, but we’ll get Brikewell. Get the tenants off, turn it over to sheep, and sell it.’

  ‘You won’t be able to buy or sell anything. You’ll be wards of court, in the power of the Lady Mary and Sir Richard Southwell.’

  ‘Granfer will sort him out,’ Barnabas answered. ‘He’ll buy the wardship.’ For the first time, I heard a note of uncertainty in his voice. Gerald caught it and gave him a warning look. I began to realize that Gerald was the leader of the pair.

  ‘Do you feel no sorrow at the prospect that your father will hang?’ Nicholas asked, puzzlement in his voice.

  ‘No,’ Gerald replied. ‘He’s a weakling, a lewdster, it’s because of his screwing Isabella that mother left. Let the fucker hang.’ His voice rose and I heard a new note in it, something strange, and slightly mad.

  I said, ‘One more question, then we’re finished.’

  ‘Provided you continue to be good boys,’ Barak added. Gerald clenched his fists, and for a moment I thought he was going to try to throw Barak off, but Barak drew his knife tighter at the boy’s throat again.

  ‘I want to know about the key you stole from Simon Scambler,’ I said quietly. ‘A few days before your mother was killed.’

  The twins looked at each other. ‘By Mary Magdalen’s wet fanny,’ Barnabas said. ‘They have been digging, haven’t they?’

  Gerald said, ‘That little freak Sooty’s been talking. They think we put Snockstobe in the river.’ And then the brothers laughed. They had been worried when first they had realized we knew about the key, but seemed not to be now.

  Toby moved his sword, pointing it straight into Barnabas’s gut. ‘You waylaid Scambler, beat him up. The key to Midnight’s stable disappeared, but Scambler returned the next day and found the key in a place he had searched the day before.’

  ‘I’ve fucking had enough of this,’ Gerald said.

  Barnabas, though, smiled. If Gerald was the leader, Barnabas was the more fluent. ‘You want the story, crookback. Here it is. We decided Sooty needed a beating. He was getting above his station, singing away to himself while he worked – I’m surprised the horse put up with the noise – so we caught him on the Wymondham Road and taught him some manners. Took that key as well. You see’ – his smile was a cruel slash in his disfigured face – ‘we thought it would be fun to let that mad horse out in the yard, set the servants running; then Father would sack Sooty and we wouldn’t have to see his crazy face around the place again.’

  ‘But you didn’t do that.’

  ‘No. We went into Norwich that evening, it was another cockfight night, and stayed over with granfer. We told him about our plan, we thought he’d see the joke, but he said Scambler would tell Father we’d set on him, and have the bruises to prove it. He didn’t want Father to throw us out, he wanted us to keep an eye on the place.’

  ‘So he persuaded us to put the key back in the road the next morning,’ Gerald added. ‘Pity, we’d told all our friends at the cockpit about the joke the night before. The inn was packed that evening, some champion cocks were fighting.’

  The boys’ tone had changed. They had been able to answer everything, and were now cocky, confident. ‘Was the key ever out of your possession?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ Gerald said, ‘I had it in my purse.’

  Barnabas said, ‘Don’t you remember, though, you couldn’t find your purse when we were at the inn afterwards, you’d taken your doublet off because it was hot and left it with your purse on the bench. The key was in it.’

  Gerald rounded fiercely on his brother. ‘Shut your fucking clack-box, Barney! I found it, there where I had left it.’

  ‘How long was it on the bench?’ Nicholas asked.

  Gerald hesitated. ‘Only half an hour. And the key was there. Nobody had time to take it.’

  ‘So who was at the inn that night?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘A load of people. All the friends we mentioned before. Chawry, too, our father’s steward, drinking on his own and looking sorry for himself. He’s often there nowadays. Anyway, what the hell does it matter? The key was never lost.’

  I looked at Barak over Gerald’s head. He mouthed the word, ‘Wax.’ I understood. Barak knew a good deal about locks. The boys had been boasting about their planned prank; everyone knew they had the key. Someone, using a candle, could have made a quick wax impression of it and taken that to the locksmith.

  I said, ‘All right, I think we’re done. But don’t threaten us. There will be a full account of our meeting going to the Lady Elizabeth and her Comptroller tomorrow morning. If anything happens to any of us, the authorities will know where to look.’

  Barnabas and Gerald glanced at each other. Barnabas laughed. ‘Reckon we’ve wasted your time, fine sirs,’ he said. ‘That was a clever trick, though, waiting for us in here.’

  ‘Ay, full marks for trying,’ Gerald agreed.

  Toby lowered his sword. ‘Get out, then.’ Barak and Nicholas also stepped back. The twins looked down to where their swords lay on the ground. ‘Going to let us have our weapons back, then, Master Hunchback? You wouldn’t have two poor lads that will soon be orphans walking through Norwich unarmed at night, would you? What with all the sturdy beggars around?’

  ‘I think you’re safer without them,’ Barak said.

>   ‘Come on,’ Barnabas said heatedly, ‘they’re our only ones. They’re expensive, too.’

  ‘Look,’ Gerald said, ‘we’ll put them straight in our scabbards and walk out. You have us well covered.’ They did not wait for a reply, but slowly bent and picked up their swords, making to put them back slowly in their scabbards.

  We all relaxed slightly, and that was our mistake. Acting as one, the twins pulled out their swords again and lunged at us. Gerald swung at Barak with a fury; he parried, but his left hand was not as strong as his right had been, and his sword fell from his hand. Gerald lifted a foot and kicked him mightily in the gut; Barak fell over. Then he turned on Toby, while Barnabas clashed swords with Nicholas. Both managed to parry a couple of thrusts, but though they were good swordsmen the twins were experts. Gerald’s next thrust ran Toby through the right arm and he staggered, dropping his sword and grasping his arm, blood welling through his fingers. Then Gerald turned on me, his face twisted in an expression of ferocious rage. I heard Nicholas and Barnabas fighting hard, the clash of swords ringing loud in the enclosed yard; Nicholas, at least, seemed to be holding his own.

  I expected Gerald Boleyn to run me through, but instead he pinned me against the wall of the yard, then held the sword to my guts, putting his other arm across my throat. He was very strong; I could not move. My heart pounded hard.

  Gerald’s eyes looked into mine; they were wide now, blazing. ‘You bent, crawling lawyer,’ he hissed. ‘You think Barney and me murdered our mother! Did you ever have a mother, or were you hatched out of some fucking egg? We loved our mother, do you hear, loved her, and we’ll see our father hang for what he did to her. I’ll kill you for what you said!’ He gave a shrill, deranged laugh. ‘You know what’s inside your guts where my sword is?’ He made a little jab to emphasize his point. ‘It’s where your shit is, it’ll all fall out. That’s the right death for you! What’s left inside will poison you, and you’ll die slowly.’ The boy smiled widely, showing even white teeth, even as he drew the sword back slightly for the killing blow. I closed my eyes, thinking, I never imagined it would end like this, after all the dangers I had faced, killed by an eighteen-year-old.