Tombland

I did not comment. He asked, ‘What about you, will you scurry back to London now?’

‘In a few days, probably.’

He nodded. ‘Well, I have someone you can take with you.’ He shouted suddenly, making us jump. ‘Arden!’

The door opened and the clerk entered. Behind him came Barak, his face set and angry. His artificial hand had been removed, and his right sleeve hung empty. Reynberd looked at it and raised his eyebrows. Arden said, ‘There was a knife on the end of it. Weapons should not be brought into your Lordship’s presence.’

Arden took a position by the door. Reynberd looked at Barak and smiled again, wolfishly. ‘So, we have a cuckoo in the nest, a clerk who does favours for particular clients. That is not allowed.’

I stared at him. In every court in England clerks were bribed to move applications along or delay them, to get inside information. Officially prohibited, it was as much part of the system as the tipstaff’s stick and the judges’ robes. Nonetheless, Reynberd shook his head disapprovingly, while Barak stood wordless, his lips set in a thin line. Reynberd turned to me.

‘When Master Barak came to work as an Assize clerk two years ago, he came with an interesting record. Years working in a somewhat vague capacity for Thomas Cromwell, then several more years working for you. Made him a very useful man to chase up reluctant jurors, sound out local opinion in the taverns before the Assizes, as well as the usual shuffling of papers. But his repeated lodging of applications for sureties for witnesses in this case puzzled the chief clerk here, as did the way he brought you here this morning. Serjeant Shardlake, you have been suborning court staff to act in your favour.’

‘I have done no more than anyone else, my Lord. Nor has Barak. And no money passed.’

‘Nonetheless, it is an infraction of the rules, and cannot be tolerated.’ He nodded at Arden. ‘A record will be made; I hope it does not become necessary to forward it to the Protector when he considers the pardon application.’ He smiled again, raising his eyebrows.

I realized he wanted something to hold over me, in case I did make any criticism of the trial. He turned his gaze to Barak and spoke, briefly and coldly. ‘Naturally, you are dismissed from Assize service.’

I feared an outburst from Barak, but he merely smiled at Reynberd. ‘All right,’ he said casually. ‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense anyway.’ He raised his empty sleeve. ‘Can I have my hand back before I go? It helps with spearing ugly fat red gobbets of meat on my plate.’

Reynberd gave him a long, hard look. ‘Get out,’ he snapped.

Barak gave a slight, mocking bow, and left the room. Nicholas, normally respectful, burst out, ‘That was not necessary.’

Reynberd raised his eyebrows. ‘Not necessary what, boy?’ He stared him down.

Nicholas bit his lip. ‘My Lord.’

‘That’s better. Now, I must get on with preparing the order cancelling Boleyn’s execution. Come and collect it at eight tomorrow morning. For now, be gone.’ When we reached the door he said, ‘And Serjeant Shardlake –’

I turned. ‘My Lord?’

‘I should leave Norwich soon. You have made enemies.’

* * *

BARAK WAS WAITING for us outside the Shire Hall, leaning against the wall in the sun, his artificial hand strapped back on, looking down Castle Hill at the spires of Norwich. He gave us a wry smile. ‘Well, that’s that,’ he said.

‘I am so sorry. Reynberd wanted something to hold over me.’

‘I guessed that. Don’t be sorry, I told you I was sick of it.’ He looked down over the city again. ‘Tamasin won’t be pleased, though. My ears will be ringing for months.’ He grinned. ‘Better not tell her you were involved, eh?’

‘Jack, let me make some recompense –’

He shook his head. ‘The work I’ve got with the London solicitors will keep me going.’ He sighed. ‘Where’s Toby?’

‘He has taken Isabella back to her inn.’

‘Tell you what,’ Barak said. He spoke evenly, but he had a slightly wild look in his eyes which I recognized, and which worried me. ‘Let’s get some lunch, then meet up and go over the case.’ He clapped Nicholas on the shoulder. ‘Just like old times, eh, lad?’

I ran a hand through my hair, then looked at the great bulk of the castle rising over the Shire Hall. ‘I have to see John Boleyn, tell him about the pardon. Then I must write to the Lady Elizabeth and Master Parry immediately, tell them it has come to the worst. Let us meet later, say for dinner at the Maid’s Head.’

Barak nodded. ‘All right. Just you and me for lunch then, Nick.’

I said, ‘Should you not leave Norwich now, get back to London?’

‘I’m paid up at the Blue Boar till Sunday. Then I’m supposed to be away another week, at the Suffolk Assizes; I’m not keen to get back to London early to face the music.’

He turned away, began walking down the path. ‘I’m sorry,’ I called after him. Without turning, he raised his good hand in acknowledgement. I grasped Nicholas’s arm, and whispered, ‘Watch how much he drinks. I see danger signs.’