Tombland (The Shardlake series Book 7)

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘Ay, sir. Stephen Walker. Come to join the camp with others from my village.’

  I sat beside him, carefully, for my back was sore after our long walk. ‘I believe Natty has told you I am a lawyer. Before I came to the camp I was investigating three murders.’

  The young man frowned. ‘Natty said they were poor Wal Padbury, his ’prentice master in Norwich, and some woman, too.’

  I thought, Poor Edith, always ‘some woman’, anonymous, unknown. ‘Yes,’ I said quietly.

  Walker looked at me, anxiety in his sharp blue eyes. ‘If I tell what I saw, I won’t get into trouble?’

  ‘I promise. At most you may be asked to attend court as a witness.’

  He looked at Natty. ‘That’s what I was feared of.’ He turned back to me, took a deep breath, then said, ‘I saw Wal Padbury’s body put in the sea.’

  My eyes widened. ‘You saw that?’

  Walker seemed to shy away a little. Natty put a hand on his arm. ‘Go on, Steve.’

  Walker said, ‘One of the men I saw do it has a powerful friend, one of the most powerful in Norfolk. I half wish I hadn’t told Natty now, but I knew Wal, and he never hurt a fly.’

  Natty smiled, showing white teeth in his brown face. ‘Powerful friends don’t matter like they did, bor. Look around this old camp.’

  ‘I understand your fear, Stephen, but if it helps, I can tell you I, too, have powerful friends. I am lawyer to the Lady Elizabeth.’

  Walker looked impressed. He looked at Natty, who nodded. ‘Master Shardlake can be trusted. He is advising Captain Kett now.’

  ‘With the Lady Elizabeth’s knowledge?’

  I coughed. ‘No. I – found myself caught up in the rebellion.’

  ‘But this is the King’s camp, Steve,’ Natty said encouragingly, ‘and we serve the Protector’s wish for reform; the Protector rules in the King’s name and the Lady Elizabeth’s his sister. Tell him, Steve, so that Wal and those others may be revenged.’

  The young man took a deep breath. ‘It was last week. I’d been out’ – he looked at Natty – ‘collecting oysters.’

  Natty nudged him. ‘Poaching, bor. Master Shardlake won’t report you. Everyone does it round our way – only the land belongs to one of the great men, he don’t allow oysters to be taken.’

  Walker spoke with sudden passion. ‘He’s a man who deserves trial at the Oak, if anyone does.’

  ‘Just tell me what you saw.’

  ‘I was coming off the beach at the end of the day when I heard voices. I lay down in the long grass with my catch. Three men walked by, not ten yards from me, and they were carrying a body. I recognized poor Wal, his face all white, blood and brains caked on top of his head. I lay still, I knew if I moved, I’d be dead, too. They took Wal’s body across the sand, then right into the water, and dropped it in.’ He shuddered. ‘I remember the splash it made. They laughed as they did it. They probably thought the tide would carry it out to sea, but they don’t know the waters properly. Then they walked back to shore and away across the grass. They probably had horses somewhere nearby.’ He looked at me. ‘That’s it, master, that’s all I saw.’

  I said quietly, ‘You said one of the men has a powerful friend.’

  ‘Yes. He’s a terror. The other two I’d never seen before.’

  I said, ‘Were they by chance a pair of twins, about eighteen, fair-haired?’

  Walker shook his head, puzzled. ‘No, they were in their twenties, and they weren’t twins.’

  ‘And the one you knew?’

  ‘I’ve seen him before, he visits his master’s land sometimes with his friends, makes trouble in the local tavern. You can’t miss him, he has a great brown mole on one cheek. There was a scandal last year about him abducting some poor young girl: he’s been even wilder since. His name is John Atkinson, and he serves that great lord, Sir Richard Southwell.’

  Chapter Forty-nine

  I thanked Walker and Natty for their help, then motioned Barak and Nicholas to follow me, away from our group of huts. I led them to where an elm tree stood some distance off, within view of St Michael’s Chapel. I told them what Walker had said.

  Barak whistled. ‘Then Southwell could be involved after all? He had a motive for seeing Boleyn hanged – he could buy up Brikewell and connect his two pieces of neighbouring land, run it all to sheep.’

  Nicholas looked doubtful. ‘But we agreed before that given the scale of Southwell’s landownership, committing murder would not be worth it.’

  I said, ‘Perhaps we were wrong. Southwell is a ruthless man. He has his own gang of thugs, and gained a pardon from murder years ago, from the old king. And now we know one of his men, John Atkinson, who we saw at the trial, was involved in the apprentice’s murder – and, it surely follows, that of the locksmith and Edith Boleyn, too.’

  ‘Atkinson and his thugs are friends of the Boleyn twins,’ Nicholas persisted. ‘They could have been acting for them, not Southwell. They seem to hire themselves out for all sorts of mischief.’

  Barak said, ‘You’re right. It’s a possibility. It all comes back to the question of who stole that key – the twins, someone from Southwell’s gang who was with them at the tavern that night and was working for Southwell, or someone else. Even someone in Gawen Reynolds’s household, where the key was held overnight by the twins.’

  ‘I wonder whether there is any connection between the Reynolds household and Southwell,’ I said thoughtfully.

  ‘Where is Southwell?’ Barak asked. ‘As one of the biggest landowners in Norfolk I’d have thought he’d have been brought in. Trying him at the Oak would be a prize for Kett.’

  ‘Fled to London, I should guess,’ Nicholas said.

  I took a deep breath, then looked towards the chapel, where another dusty, exhausted messenger was dismounting from a horse. I had promised Kett to say nothing of my encountering Southwell there. But he should know of this.

  A familiar sturdy, black-bearded figure exited the main doors of St Michael’s Chapel; Toby Lockswood, a leather folder of papers under his arm, an expression of grim authority on his face. Barak nudged me. ‘The fount of all Norwich knowledge. He may know whether there are relations between the Southwell and Reynolds households, rather than just an association between his twins and Southwell’s thugs.’

  ‘We must keep this matter close. Nonetheless, it’s worth asking him that. And Reynolds’s old steward Vowell later, perhaps.’ I hailed him. ‘Toby!’

  He frowned, but changed direction towards us. ‘Still here?’ he asked me brusquely. ‘I saw you perform at the Oak. Dancing to Captain Kett’s tune now, eh? A lawyer will always dance to whichever tune serves his interests.’

  Barak said hotly, ‘You danced to Master Shardlake’s long enough when we were investigating the Boleyn case.’

  Toby fixed him with angry dark eyes. ‘As I said, that was before I found a better cause.’ And before your parents died, I thought, reading the grief in his face. I said, ‘I only wished to ask you a question, which your local knowledge may answer. Do you know whether there is any connection between Gawen Reynolds’s household and that of Sir Richard Southwell? Did the two men know each other?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’ He laughed. ‘Why are you still ferreting around that case? Isn’t the Lady Elizabeth arranging a pardon for Boleyn?’

  ‘I do not want the real murderer to remain free. A locksmith and his young apprentice died as well as Edith Boleyn, remember. Common people.’

  ‘Can’t help you,’ Toby said, and he began to move away. Then Nicholas stepped into his path. ‘Lockswood, you are a cold, secretive, vengeful man,’ he said with quiet intensity. ‘For weeks you worked with us, now you treat us like pieces of shit. And you had me imprisoned unjustly.’

  Toby squared his shoulders. ‘You are shit,’ he said. ‘You care for nothing but posing as a gentleman. You should be tried at the Oak.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For what you are.’

  Nicholas raised
a fist. Toby laughed. ‘Go on, young gentleman, strike a senior officer of the camp. See what happens to you then.’

  Barak laid his hand on Nicholas’s arm. ‘He’s not worth it.’

  Toby pointed at Nicholas. ‘I’ll have you yet, boy.’ He turned and walked away into the camp.

  We looked after him. ‘He’s a senior official now?’ Nicholas asked.

  ‘He’s literate, and has great knowledge of the Norfolk elite. Kett administers the camp through the representatives of the Hundreds, and it’s an efficient system. Miles and the soldiers are in charge of military matters, and I think both handle relations with supporters in Norwich. But I think Kett, like all leaders, is developing a circle of expert advisers. And Lockswood, I think, is one of them. We must be wary of him.’

  *

  WHEN WE ROSE AT first light the next morning the sky was grey, and growing darker. The heat was oppressive. I felt lice in my hair; I must find a barber. I shared a quick breakfast with the others, then made my way to St Michael’s Chapel. At this hour I hoped to catch Kett alone. The guards, who knew me now, let me pass.

  The desks around the walls were empty, and the curtain across the altar was drawn. ‘Captain Kett,’ I called quietly. He pulled the curtain aside. He was dressed in shirt and hose and an unbuttoned doublet. He had been breakfasting; there were plates at one end of the table, and his wife sat there; plump, placid Alice who had loyally followed her husband into the unknown. The rest of the table was covered, as usual, with letters and papers.

  ‘I am sorry to interrupt you so early, Captain Kett, but there is an important matter I must discuss.’

  He sighed, then, registering my serious expression, said gently, ‘Alice, could you leave us? Perhaps see if Brother William is awake?’

  ‘Yes, Husband.’ She passed me with a little curtsey and went outside. Kett sat at the table again, beckoning me to join him. His face was lined and tired, his expression worried. ‘I hope you have not brought more bad news,’ he said brusquely.

  ‘Some information. I fear it may not be to your liking.’

  ‘Well, I have had a deal of that these last few days. I’m told the enclosure commissioners have accepted the demands of the men in Kent, and more have arrived in Essex. But there’s no sign of them getting here. And a whole ten thousand under Lord Russell has been sent to fight the Devon and Cornwall rebels, a thousand soldiers have been sent to put down the Oxfordshire camp, though I hear the camp-men there have got somewhat out of control. There are thousands in Oxfordshire, but not so many as here – we are the biggest camp in the south-east. So why are they not talking to us?’ He banged a fist on the table with anger.

  ‘Norfolk is further from London than Kent,’ I said.

  Kett grunted. ‘There is so much contradictory information from outside. I have seen the proclamation against seditious stirrers, but at the same time there comes a new proclamation from the Protector restricting the new sheep tax to the wealthy.’ He looked at me with that full, powerful gaze of his. ‘All the more important that the camps support his aims.’ He shook his head. ‘But there will be spies of the great men in this camp, I have no doubt, just as we have our spies in Norwich, and I know the city council would turn on us at a word from London, even though Codd and Aldrich are to sign our demands this afternoon and have been allowed to address the camp, calling for moderation in dealing with the gentlemen. The representatives of the Hundreds gather here this morning to draw them up. As I said, I want you to look them over.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I ought to pay you a fee.’

  I smiled. ‘In the circumstances, I think it would be better for me to act informally, with no record.’

  Kett laughed, showing his white teeth. ‘I like talking to you, Master Shardlake. You have judgement – I have always been a good judge of men. Forgive me, yesterday was not a good day for news.’ He shrugged. ‘But some of it may be wrong, and everyone is solid here.’

  ‘I think they are.’

  He shook his head as though in wonder. ‘It seems that I have become a judge of men.’ He looked across at one of the wall paintings still adorning the chapel. ‘See that, Our Lord expelling the money-changers from the Temple. Reverend Conyers wanted them all whitewashed over, but that one – it inspires me.’ He shook his head. ‘I ramble. I have only just breakfasted, and already my head is full of a thousand things to be done. Now, what have you to tell me?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘On our first morning in the camp, when I was summoned to you, I met someone coming out of the side door of the chapel. Someone I recognized from London, and was surprised to see here. Sir Richard Southwell.’

  Kett drew a deep breath, and sat up straight in his chair, his expression sharp and alert. ‘What did he say to you?’ he snapped.

  ‘Only that he was here because certain negotiations were needed, and that I must tell nobody I saw him.’

  ‘Have you told anyone? Barak and that boy?’

  ‘Not even them. I come to you only because I have learned something about Southwell.’

  Kett picked up a spoon from the table, began turning it over in his hands. ‘Well?’

  ‘Southwell’s man, John Atkinson, was involved in concealing a murder. A young locksmith’s apprentice. There is evidence connecting that death to that of the locksmith himself, and Edith Boleyn’s murder, too. And Southwell would stand to gain from Boleyn’s conviction and death, for if he bought Brikewell, he could connect two large sheep farms he owns.’

  Kett’s gaze bored into me. ‘How did you learn this?’

  I told him what Walker had told me, without mentioning his name, saying only that it was a man in the camp. He was silent a moment, then said slowly, ‘Now that the old Duke of Norfolk is in the Tower, Sir Richard Southwell is one of the greatest landowners in Norfolk, as well as steward to the Lady Mary. He is also an alternate member of the Protector’s Council in London, among those nominated in the old king’s will to take the place of members who resign or die. I do not need to tell you that he is a great villain, who will stop at nothing to increase his own power and wealth.’

  ‘So I have learned.’

  He looked at me fiercely. ‘If you repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone, it will go very badly for you.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Then I swear to tell nobody.’

  Kett inclined his head, his look still dangerous. ‘I know you believe in justice, Master Shardlake, but I have thousands of men to supply, and sometimes agreements have to be made with those you dislike, even loathe.’

  ‘I have done the same in my time,’ I said, not adding that I had usually regretted it.

  Kett said, ‘Southwell came to the camp to buy us off, riding fast from London. The Council had given him five hundred pounds for me to pay the men to disperse.’

  ‘That is a huge sum,’ I said.

  Kett nodded. ‘The Council had learned that the camp was very large – from spies, no doubt. But Southwell did not know just how large, and when he saw our size, it shocked him. I met him privately that morning, and refused to be paid off to dissolve the camp.’ He leaned forward and stared at me. ‘Do you believe me, Master Shardlake?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then I made a separate arrangement with him. I took the five hundred pounds, and agreed in return that his own sheep farms would not be touched, and the Lady Mary and her Kenninghall estate would be left undisturbed. Already men had begun taking down fences round her deer parks, but I said that would stop. I would have ordered it anyway, for as heir to the throne her safety matters to the Protector.’

  I looked at him with new admiration. ‘So you outsmarted Southwell?’

  Kett smiled. ‘I have thousands of men behind me. I set him free, to return to London and tell whatever tale he chose. And I have also, shall we say, had a donation from Bishop Rugge, in return for not looking too closely into the religious views of some in the camp, and leaving cathedral property safe. Had I not, with such numbers we would in time have run out of supplies – sh
oes, candles, clothes – things my men have been able to buy in Norwich market with the money. And keeping the market open helps me with Codd and Aldrich. Nonetheless, these arrangements are known only to very few. Some among the men would disapprove of my letting Southwell go – but it was the best arrangement for the camp, and that is my concern above all.’

  I said, with genuine admiration, ‘Captain Kett, your years dealing with Flowerdew and his like in Wymondham have made you a skilled politician indeed.’

  ‘I thank you.’ He looked at me seriously again. ‘So, you understand that whatever his young thugs, or Southwell himself, may have done, there is nothing I can do. I do not even know where he is. Probably in London, like Flowerdew. He may indeed have been party to murder, nothing would surprise me. But I can do nothing and you, Master Shardlake, must say nothing.’

  I sighed, realizing that what he said was true. ‘Again, I swear.’ I paused. ‘But Southwell coming with money is surely more evidence that the Protector wants the camps dispersed.’

  Kett frowned. ‘As I said, I believe that if the Protector sees the reasonableness of our demands, and, yes, the force we have behind us, he will realize they must settle. Here and elsewhere.’ He then reached a long arm across the table and pushed across three sealed letters. ‘Mayor Codd agreed to forward letters arriving in Norwich for men in the camp. These came yesterday, one each for you and Barak and young Overton.’

  I looked at the seals. All had been broken, either by Codd’s men or Kett’s. The one addressed to me was in Guy’s handwriting, as was a second for Barak, probably written for Tamasin by Guy. I worried what the letters might contain, for they must already have been read, but if there was anything of concern, Kett would have told me. ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  He stood. ‘Now I must go to the Oak, meet the representatives of the Hundreds and finalize the demands. After you have gone over them, I would like you to assist me at more trials of the gentlemen this afternoon.’