Tombland

He shook his head, briskly gathering up his papers. ‘Not that again. Well, keep it, if you wish. I must ride down to the cathedral now. Thank you for your help, I hope today taught people that thievery will not be tolerated. By the way, put that Overton boy to some useful work.’

‘I will, but first may I question the thief about where he found this ring?’

‘Very well, but he is to be put out straight afterwards.’ Kett shouted to the soldiers, who were leading away those found guilty, ‘Keep Dorton back. Serjeant Shardlake has something to ask him.’

I waved to Barak and Nicholas to join me, and we walked across to Dorton. He cringed as we approached. I opened my hand. ‘Where did you find this ring?’

He looked at it. ‘Everything else I stole from the huts, sir, but that ring – that was a gift from God.’

A soldier cuffed his greasy head. ‘Talk sense, you bezzled puttock, or you’ll get the shit beaten out of you at the camp boundary.’

‘What do you mean, Dorton?’ I asked quietly.

‘Only that I didn’t take it from the huts, I swear. I was walking along the path to my own hut and I saw it lying on the earth, glimsing in the sun – it was about ten days ago, before the weather changed. Someone must have dropped it.’

The soldier snorted. ‘A wedding ring of good gold?’

‘It’s true, I swear it!’ Dorton said, frantically. ‘Why would I lie about this when I’ve admitted everything else?’

I nodded. ‘True. The ring, by the way, belonged to a woman with whom I have a connection. Did you find anything else with it?’

Dorton reached into his tattered clothes and produced a double-sided nit-comb, tiny black bodies between the tines. ‘This was next to it, I kept it for myself.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘No, I swear. I was going to sell the ring in Norwich market, but then the battle came, and afterwards –’ the beery smell of his breath was enough to finish the sentence.

I looked at him. He had indeed nothing to gain by lying. I said, ‘Take my friends and me to where you found the ring and comb. By your leave,’ I added to the soldier. He shrugged, and followed as Dorton led us into the body of the camp. He came to a place where two paths intersected, and pointed to the ground. ‘Just there, sir. My little hut is –’ he swallowed – ‘was a quarter-mile up that path.’

I bent down. The path was muddy now, but a fortnight ago it would have been dry and rutted. If anyone had dropped a gold ring, it would soon have been spotted. I looked around the crossroads. Toby Lockswood’s hut was nearby. I nodded. ‘Thank you, Dorton.’

He gave me a smile, showing a few discoloured teeth. ‘Won’t you help me, Master? Give me a little money to help me on my way?’

‘Help you to the nearest inn, more like,’ Barak said. I shook my head, though I pitied the man, and the soldier led him roughly away.

* * *

BARAK , NICHOLAS AND I returned to our hut. I was pleased when Goody Everneke, Simon, Natty and Goodman Dickon, who had brought the accusations against the Swardeston landlord, came and congratulated us on Nicholas’s victory. ‘Are you going to help us now, boy, earn your keep?’ Dickon asked.

Simon spoke up. ‘You can help with the horses, Master Nicholas, can’t you?’ He jigged up and down. ‘You’ve had training as a horseman.’

Nicholas smiled. ‘A good idea. Yes, I can do that.’

Simon waved his hands with pleasure. I asked Natty, ‘How are you?’

Goodwife Everneke said, ‘The swelling on his arm has gone, thanks be to God. I made him use the stuff you bought from the cathedral.’

‘It stings like hell,’ Natty said, though with a smile for Mistress Everneke, who had done so much to help those in need in the camp.

‘Thank you,’ I said to her. ‘Now, we three have something to discuss, and must go to our hut.’

Sitting in the gloomy interior, leaning against the walls, I passed the gold ring to Barak and Nicholas. Barak whistled. ‘This is it, all right.’

‘How in God’s name did it get to the camp?’ Nicholas asked.

I pulled out the scurfy nit-comb. ‘It was with this. Sounds to me like both fell from a hole in someone’s purse or bag.’

‘And near two weeks ago. Dorton must have found it just after it was dropped, before someone else did.’

‘But who in God’s name dropped it?’ Barak asked.

‘Whoever it was must have had it for years,’ Nicholas said slowly. ‘Remember what Master Parry told us, Edith’s knuckles were too swollen to get a wedding ring off. And this was pulled off, not cut.’

I said, ‘We need to question people in the huts leading off that crossroads. It may be a long job. We can say we found a gold ring nearby and ask people if it’s theirs.’

Barak laughed. ‘Everyone will claim it.’

‘We’ll ask them first to say what’s engraved inside. Come, we’ll start with Toby Lockswood. Nick, you’d better stay down on the road. Whoever had the ring could have been harbouring Edith Boleyn, or holding her prisoner, for years. It could even be her killer. We should take our knives.’

* * *