Tombland

Gatchet sighed. ‘Have you any other questions for this witness?’

‘No, sir. I would like to recall Serjeant Shardlake.’

Gatchet raised a weary hand. ‘Very well.’

Scambler stumbled unhappily back to his bench, and I returned to the dock. Many in the courtroom were smiling openly, including a couple on the jury, although others were frowning. The impact of poor Scambler’s evidence had been undermined by his behaviour. Some people, though, were still looking curiously at the twins. I stared at Boleyn, willing him to return to the narrative of the stolen key.

He hesitated, then said, ‘Serjeant Shardlake, I understand that after you spoke to Sooty – to Scambler, you visited the locksmith Snockstobe’s shop.’

‘Yes.’ I looked at the judges. ‘It is in Tombland. On the seventeenth of June, I spoke to his apprentice, one Walter, to ask whether Gerald or Barnabas Boleyn had visited the shop recently. He said they had not. Snockstobe himself refused to answer any questions. Next day, after the locksmith’s body was found, I returned to the shop and Walter told me that someone else, whom he could not identify, had brought a key from Brikewell for copying. He said his master had seemed very concerned by my visit, and had gone out immediately afterwards. He returned looking worried, and that night he died.’

There was a definite murmur in the court now. Reynberd looked at me. ‘Where is this apprentice?’

‘He has fled. I understand his home is in the Sandlings.’

‘Does he have a last name?’

‘He ran away before I could get it, my Lord.’ I felt myself redden with embarrassment.

‘Then any evidence of what he said is hearsay, and inadmissible. Really, Serjeant Shardlake, you should know better.’

‘Master Snockstobe is dead, my Lord. When a person is dead, the hearsay rule does not apply, and weight may be given to words he said to a third party.’

‘The third party, this Walter, is not present.’

Gatchet asked, ‘Did this apprentice describe the man who came to the shop?’

‘He could only say that he was a big man, with a beard. Apparently, Walter suffers from shortsightedness.’

‘Very convenient,’ Gatchet said dryly.

I addressed him directly. ‘No, my Lord, it is very in convenient. We wish nothing more than to identify this man.’ I paused. ‘I do not necessarily believe the apprentice’s tale of his shortsightedness. There is nothing I would like more than to have him here. Indeed,’ I ventured, ‘I would ask whether this case might be adjourned, so that efforts to find the apprentice Walter may be made.’

Reynberd leaned forward. ‘Serjeant Shardlake, you are acting as an advocate, which I told you not to do! You have had over a month to gather evidence –’

‘I only came to Norwich last week –’

He waved a hand. ‘That is not my problem. This case will be considered today, on the evidence brought before us.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Yes, my Lord.’ I had expected a refusal, but it had been worth a try. ‘If I may proceed with my evidence, I believe I can show the key may have been stolen in turn from Barnabas and Gerald Boleyn during the evening of the day when it was first missing, to an extent that should open the matter to reasonable doubt.’ I turned to Boleyn; it was he who must call the next witness. His face set. ‘I would like to call my sons, Barnabas and Gerald Boleyn.’

Again the twins returned to the witness box, walking confidently, shoulder to shoulder.

‘Why did you attack my stable boy, Scambler?’ Boleyn asked them, bluntly. ‘I saw his bruises the next day.’

‘Because we saw him mistreating your horse, sir,’ Gerald answered smoothly. ‘Once, through the open door of the stable, we saw him jab Midnight with a pitchfork, and another time he prodded the horse with a nail.’

‘Perhaps he was made so ill-tempered because of how the boy handled him,’ Barnabas added snidely.

Next to me, Isabella bunched her fists. ‘Liars,’ she whispered. ‘Filthy liars.’

‘Quiet,’ I said, placing an arm on hers.

Boleyn looked at them incredulously. ‘You know Midnight. He would never submit to such treatment.’ His voice rose, trembling a little. ‘Did you steal Scambler’s key?’

‘No,’ Gerald answered. ‘We did not.’ They were still, controlled. I wondered if they had been briefed by their grandfather, as Boleyn had been by me, to answer questions as briefly and directly as possible.

‘It was never in our hands,’ Gerald said. ‘Sooty Scambler is not in his wits. It is a matter of common fame in the city. He could have missed the key on his first search.’

Barnabas looked meekly at Gatchet. ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘may I say something, on behalf of myself and my brother?’

‘Very well.’

‘Only that we loved our dear mother very much. Nobody can say we did not. On the night of her cruel murder we had an alibi for the whole evening.’ He paused. ‘Unlike our father.’

Boleyn, who had been staring at the twins, came to himself and asked if he could briefly recall his steward, Chawry. Judge Reynberd assented, and Chawry walked back to the witness box, passing the twins; neither looked at the other.