Tombland

Kett was ready for this. He stood and said, ‘Master Shardlake was indeed at Brikewell, but he advises me the keeping of great numbers of doves is not illegal.’ There were shouts of protest. ‘Nonetheless’ – he raised his voice – ‘it should be made illegal, and it will be! I intend it to be one of the demands to the King and Protector which the Hundred representatives are even now preparing. This injustice will be righted!’ The shouts turned to cheers. Harris spoke up again. ‘There is more against Witherington. Back in the spring his steward recruited us and made us occupy part of his neighbour John Boleyn’s land. He told us Witherington had a right to it, and would give part to us as common land. Otherwise we would lose much of our own.’

Aldrich spoke up. ‘So you and your neighbours took part in a forceful occupation of his land?’

Melville shouted, ‘We’d no fucking choice.’

Yeoman Harris stepped forward. ‘That is true, and we hoped to occupy the land peacefully. But someone told Boleyn and a group of young savages came at us, recruited by the Boleyn twins from Sir Richard Southwell’s gentlemen thugs. They beat us, and Gerald Boleyn struck a boy from our village on the head so badly he has lost his wits.’ He gestured to the crowd, and a man brought forward young Ralph, the boy I had seen at Brikewell. From his looks the man was Ralph’s father. Ralph stared vacantly at the Oak, mouth open and dribbling, clearly with no idea where he was. Gently, his father pushed his head down so the scarred bald patch was visible. Men nearby leaned forward to look and a woman stepped forward and shouted, ‘For shame, for shame!’

Witherington turned to address Kett, wringing his hands. ‘It was not me who did this; it was Gerald Boleyn, acting for his father, John. The attack was led by his steward, Chawry.’ I thought, So Chawry was there, then I saw that Witherington was pointing a shaking finger at me. ‘And Serjeant Shardlake is Boleyn’s lawyer.’

The sight of the boy had infuriated the crowd. ‘His lawyer!’ someone shouted. ‘Boleyn won’t get away with this!’

I stood up. ‘I represented John Boleyn, but only regarding the charge that he murdered his wife –’

‘Ay!’ a woman called out. ‘He was found guilty, but now sits in Norwich Castle awaiting a pardon, paid for by his kinswoman the Lady Elizabeth!’

‘One of the wealthiest landowners in England!’ someone shouted. ‘Like her sister the Lady Mary, who sits in Kenninghall surrounded by her sheepfolds and priests! Have her out!’

Again Robert Kett stepped forward, and demanded their silence. ‘The Lady Mary stays where she is! She is heir to the throne. What do you think interference with her would do for our cause with the Protector? As for Master Shardlake,’ he turned to me, ‘it is Barnabas and Gerald Boleyn who must face trial on this matter. You have never represented them?’

I stood and looked at the twins, who were grinning at me. I called out, loudly, ‘Never!’

The crowd quietened. I stood. ‘All I would say, and I know this is not evidence, is that I do not believe John Boleyn would have authorized the wicked thing done to that boy.’ My heart was beating fast, as somebody called out, ‘Ay, John Boleyn’s not one of the worst landlords. It’s his sons that are vicious brutes. And his old father-in-law.’

Alderman Aldrich spoke up. ‘Gawen Reynolds is a Norwich alderman. It is the country landlords who are to be judged here.’

Kett looked at the twins, who glowered back. ‘Leonard Witherington, you are to be returned to prison. Bring forward Gerald and Barnabas Boleyn.’ Despite their chains the twins slouched nonchalantly side by side towards the Oak, as though they cared nothing for the assembly.

They came to a halt facing Kett, expressions of amused contempt on their faces. Kett said quietly, ‘Gerald and Barnabas Boleyn, you are accused of attacking this boy, of breaking his head and damaging his wits.’ Ralph’s father held his arm as, seeing the twins, he made feeble attempts to run away. Kett addressed him. ‘Did you witness what happened to your son?’

‘We were both in the party sent to occupy Master Boleyn’s land,’ he said, a tremor in his voice. ‘We planted banners, but then a crowd rushed us from the trees.’ He pointed at the twins. ‘Those two were there, and I saw the one without the scar raise his club and smash it down hard as he could on my poor son’s head. Ever since he can do nothing on his own, neither eat nor shit.’

A man shouted from the crowd, ‘I was there too! I saw it all.’ Kett asked his name and Barak wrote it down.

Kett said, ‘I have had dealings enough with the law to know that if that happened, Gerald Boleyn is guilty of attempted murder, for which he could hang, and his brother could be indicted for conspiracy.’ He looked at me, and I nodded. He turned to the twins. ‘Have you aught to say?’

Gerald shrugged his shoulders. ‘This ain’t a murder trial.’

‘No,’ Kett’s voice deepened with anger, ‘but the evidence taken here is, I think, quite enough for an indictment.’