Tombland

I reached the castle, glancing over to the Shire Hall where the civil cases would still be going on. Again I was led down the clanging iron staircase. The gaoler followed me into the cell. ‘Look at him,’ he said derisively. ‘Less than two days to live and there he lies, dozing away.’ I knew that sometimes people under great strain or fear, unable to do anything about their position, take refuge in sleep. He shook Boleyn roughly by the shoulder and he jumped awake, blinking in the dim light. ‘What – what –’

I smiled at him. ‘Good morning, John.’

He ran filthy hands through his tangled hair, then sat up. ‘I’ve asked them to let me have a good wash and shave tonight, before I go to court, but they say they can’t.’

‘I’ll make sure they do. It will be a matter of passing money.’

‘And Isabella is bringing me some good clothes tonight, so at least I will not look like a stinking beggar. She is staying at an inn in the marketplace, the White Horse, with my steward Chawry. They should arrive about seven this evening. Can you meet them, and talk to them about the trial?’

‘Of course.’

‘They are allowing her to visit me this evening.’

‘Would you like me to attend?’

He smiled sadly. ‘No, no thank you. This may be our last chance to be together.’ He took a deep breath. ‘What news?’

I told him about the sudden death of the locksmith, that Grace Bone was dead too and her brother had no useful information, and, finally, about our confrontation with the twins, though I left out that there had been a swordfight. Boleyn shook his head sadly. ‘You know, it is strange, I hope I never see them again. Though I always doubted they were involved in their mother’s murder, as I said.’

‘If only we knew the identity of the man who brought the key – or a wax impression of it – to Snockstobe’s shop. But there is no way of finding out before tomorrow. The apprentice is gone, and even he could not identify the man. He has short sight, or claims he does.’ I shook my head.

Boleyn raised a hand. ‘You have done everything you can, Master Shardlake. I am grateful.’

Strange that Boleyn should end up comforting me. I had decided, on the way, that I would try once more to question him about where he was the evening Edith died, but also that afterwards I would tell him about the Lady Elizabeth’s letter requesting a pardon. In common humanity I could not keep that from him any longer.

He looked at me intently. ‘There is one more thing I should tell you, Master Shardlake.’ He paused. ‘I have a goodly store of money, which I have kept at Brikewell. Just in case things got to the stage where my creditors tried to bankrupt me. Twenty old sovereigns of good gold.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘A goodly sum indeed.’

‘I will tell Isabella where it is – if things go badly with me, she will be short of money, and should have it now.’ He smiled wryly. ‘It is in a hole in the brickwork at the back of Midnight’s stable. A good hiding place, hey? With my fierce horse for a guardian. And nobody knowing it is there but me.’

‘But Master Boleyn,’ I said urgently. ‘This could throw a whole new light on the taking of the key. What if someone in your household – the twins, or Chawry, or a servant, had observed you hiding it there, that would give someone a whole separate motive for taking the key.’ I dared not say, it could even have been Isabella.

Boleyn answered impatiently. ‘Do you think I did not consider that? But my cache of gold has been hidden for a year. Nobody knew of it, and nobody dared go in that stable except me and Scambler. And even if the key was taken so that the money could be stolen, how does that advance my case that I am innocent of my wife’s murder? On the contrary, it makes the taking of the key irrelevant.’

I thought hard. ‘You are right. But Master Boleyn, if I am to help you I need to know all the circumstances. I am the one qualified to decide what is relevant. And there are a couple more things I must ask.’ I took a deep breath, and saw him clench his shoulders. ‘First, Witherington’s raid on Brikewell. Did you know that your sons were bringing a gang of gentlemen roughs associated with Sir Richard Southwell?’

He shook his head. ‘I knew they were bringing friends, but not their connection with Southwell.’ His voice took on an angry tone. ‘I hope you are not going to criticize me again for defending my land.’ The sight of the boy with a broken head, reduced to idiocy, came back to my mind, but I said nothing. I spoke, though, in a sharp tone as I said, ‘That brings me, again, to the question of your alibi. I have never believed you spent all that night alone in your study. If you went out to meet someone, they could give you an alibi.’

He looked me straight and hard in the eyes. ‘I was in my study all night.’

‘And you will say that tomorrow at trial?’

‘Yes.’

I sighed. ‘Then, though I shall do all I can to help you, I have to tell you that you may well be found guilty.’