Tombland

‘I think he loves Isabella, and that gives him a motive to kill John Boleyn. I wonder if I might somehow separate them, perhaps suggest Chawry goes back to Brikewell.’

‘Let’s see if we can find out a bit more first.’

We made our way down to the marketplace. After a day of constant activity my back was hurting and I was tired, jowered out as the Norfolk people said. A large crowd had gathered round the city cross. We walked over to see what was happening.

It was the Herald. Accompanied by a number of city councillors who, evidently, had not been arrested, he was again calling out his proclamation to a crowd of weavers, traders, masons and some camp-men. This time, however, he got only insults and mocking catcalls as he read, concluding that if the rebels did not lay down their arms and go home, they might expect ‘grievous torments, bitter death, and all extremity!’ Someone shouted, ‘Be off! Plague take you with these idle promises of pardon!’ Another called, ‘Long live Robin Hood!’ The audience were as angry as the Mousehold men had been, and no doubt feared the offer of pardon was a trap. Many would remember how pardons had been promised after the Northern rebellion against old King Henry’s religious changes in 1536, but the end of that had been mass executions.

Despite the rowdy atmosphere, nobody actually dared touch the Herald. He turned and walked down the steps of the Town Cross, the councillors following.

I crossed the marketplace to Isabella and Chawry’s inn. I was shown into the reception room. They soon appeared, both looking tired and anxious. I saw that Chawry had a long, deep cut, newly stitched, running across his forehead and into the roots of his red hair.

‘Master Shardlake,’ he said coldly, ‘you look more like one of the rebels every day.’ There was contempt in his expression; like Miles, the faithful steward had turned into someone much more assertive, though on the other side of the political divide.

‘You have been injured, Goodman Chawry,’ I answered civilly.

‘I fought this morning against the rebels when they took the city.’

‘Would you have not been better employed looking after your mistress?’ I said sharply.

He met my eye. ‘I did not know what the rebels might do to women of gentle class if they took Norwich.’

‘So far as I know, no women have been hurt.’

‘But what will happen now your friends have taken control? I hear men are being dragged off to gaol, the houses of the rich are spoiled.’

‘I know only that Captain Kett intends to restore proper order to Norwich.’

Isabella turned to him. ‘Daniel, cannot you see how tired Master Shardlake and poor Goodman Barak are?’ She smiled, waving us to sit. ‘I have been worried about you, and young Nicholas.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Nicholas, I fear, is a prisoner in Norwich Castle.’

Isabella’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, no, the poor boy.’

Chawry said, ‘Of course, he is a gentleman.’

I ignored the remark, and turning back to Isabella, told her as gently as I could about the attempt to poison her husband, adding that I had arranged for Nicholas to be lodged with him. I watched Chawry as I spoke; he seemed as shocked by the news as Isabella.

When she recovered a little, I asked Isabella to explain, step by step, how she got food to her husband. She told me Chawry bought supplies in the market or from shops and she prepared the meal at the inn, parcelling it in linen cloth, then tying it securely before Chawry addressed it for her. A guard cut the thin rope securing it in front of him. The day before had been as usual, except that with Norwich closed against the rebels and an imminent attack expected, Chawry had been accosted while shopping by a city constable on the way back to the prison and asked to join the defence of the city, to which he had agreed. I realized, then, that he had been absent for much longer than usual.

I said, ‘I think from now on you should shop together and make sure you keep the parcel close until the time comes to deliver it. Do you go to the prison together?’

‘Of course,’ Isabella answered. ‘Do you think I would go there alone? Daniel is my rock and staff in all this terrible trouble.’ She touched his arm.

He frowned at me; clearly guessing that I suspected him. He said softly to Isabella, ‘I am sorry I left you to fight this morning, but I felt it my duty.’

‘I know. You were only trying to protect me, as usual.’ She smiled at him.

I looked between them. These two were certainly becoming close, perhaps inevitably, given the situation in which they had found themselves. But all Isabella’s concern after hearing about the poisoning had been for her husband. She turned back to me. ‘What will happen now? Some say the King will send an army to take back Norwich.’

‘The sooner the better,’ Chawry said. ‘Hang them from their own front doors.’