Tombland

‘I know nothing of that,’ Flowerdew said quickly. ‘Listen, sir, tomorrow I will speak to him, tell him it is best we let the woman back in for now.’ He ran his tongue along his thin lips, clearly not relishing the prospect.

I smiled. ‘See, Brother Flowerdew, it is always good when lawyers talk.’

He gave a tight smile in return.

‘Then there is the matter of the sovereigns you took. Those were a gift from John Boleyn to his wife, as I can attest, and therefore belong to her in any event.’ I held out a hand.

Flowerdew hesitated a moment, then took a key, unlocked a drawer in his desk, and handed me a black drawstring bag. I looked inside and caught the glint of gold. ‘I shall give it back to Isabella,’ I said. ‘Would you like a receipt?’

‘That will not be necessary.’ Clearly now realizing the trouble I could make for him, his manner turned ingratiating. ‘It is late for you to ride back to Norwich. Would you have dinner with us, and stay the night? You can return tomorrow.’

I looked at Nicholas, who shook his head slightly. I did not relish the prospect of spending a night under Flowerdew’s roof, but my back had been aching more and more and the prospect of a night’s rest in a good bed was hard to resist. ‘Thank you, Serjeant Flowerdew,’ I said mildly. ‘We should be glad to.’

* * *

ALTHOUGH I COULD see it cost him, Flowerdew continued making efforts to be civil at a dinner of well-cooked pork, served by servants under the eye of the burly steward, Glapthorne. Flowerdew did most of the talking, and I got the impression his wife was more used to listening. The two boys struck me as ill-mannered – one put salt in the other’s wine when he was not looking – but harmless enough. I said we had visited the Wymondham fair, and been surprised by its size.

‘Oh, together with the play it’s always made a fortune for the townsmen,’ Flowerdew said bitterly. ‘They’ll be showing scenes till tomorrow morning. That play is nothing but a papist relic, though they’ve been careful to write out references to Becket.’

‘Some of its sentiments sounded quite radical,’ Nicholas said.

‘Really?’ Flowerdew’s eyes flashed. ‘I must get a copy, see if there is anything which might interest Bishop Rugge. Did you see that chapel in the centre of the city? It used to belong to the abbey, but the townspeople bought it. They wanted every last outbuilding, every piece of church property they could lay claim to as belonging to the parish. They wrote to Lord Cromwell himself, who granted it to them.’ His tone grew angry again. ‘The arguments I’ve had with those churls over the years. The Ketts and the like. Men who think that because they’ve come up a little in the world, butchers and tanners who’ve acquired some land, they can lead the townsfolk against the King’s officials.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Robert Kett’s still enclosed some of his land though, as I have; sheep are the only way to make money now.’

‘I saw a large white-bearded man outside a butcher’s shop. I believe that is William Kett?’

‘It is.’ His voice rose, showing his temper. ‘His brother Robert is even worse. But I’ll have them both one day, I swear it.’ He stabbed viciously at a piece of pork on his plate.

After the meal Flowerdew suggested a game of cards, but we pleaded the need for an early night. Barak, we were told, had been given a place in the servants’ quarters. I slept deeply in a comfortable feather bed, and woke late, the sun already high. Breakfast was over but a servant arranged some food for us. We saw no sign of Flowerdew. Afterwards his wife appeared, and I said we should take our leave. She readily agreed, and sent a servant to fetch Barak and our horses. She called to her husband, and Flowerdew came out from his office. I bowed to him. ‘I think it time for us to depart, sir.’

‘I trust you slept well.’ He smiled, though his dark eyes were hard as stones. I was finding his forced amiability wearing, glad to be setting off. But he said quietly, ‘Before you leave, may we have a word in my office? Alone,’ he added, glancing at Nicholas.

I nodded, hesitantly, for I did not trust Flowerdew an inch, but followed him. He stood behind his desk, laying his hands on it, took a deep breath, then looked at me. ‘Master Shardlake, I confess I made a mistake in creating that document to get Isabella Heath out of that house. But’ – he shook his head – ‘as I said, Sir Richard Southwell is not a man easily refused. Nor, frankly, is Master Gawen Reynolds. If you knew these parts better, you would understand.’

‘Nonetheless, I must hold you to the agreement we made.’

Flowerdew forced another smile. ‘I have become a rich man, Serjeant Shardlake, all through my own efforts. If you agree to let the eviction stand, and return that paper, I am prepared to give you thirty sovereigns.’

My eyes widened. It was an enormous sum, though no doubt Flowerdew could afford it. ‘In good gold coin, no debased silver,’ he added.