Tombland

I reflected on the other mystery in which I had become involved – who had betrayed the whereabouts of Captain Miles’s wife to the authorities in London? Was it someone from the capital? I began to think it was. I did not think I was seriously suspected, and had no sense of being watched. That left as suspects the increasingly unstable Toby Lockswood, Edward Brown, Michael Vowell, Peter Bone and the old soldier, poor dead Hector Johnson. But I could not think it was any of them. Lockswood I had not seen since the day I had showed him Edith’s ring, which I now kept in my purse. I heard he had been given a job felling trees over at Thorpe Wood. His demotion would have hurt him and I imagined him taking his rage out on the trees with his axe.

I had promised Peter Bone I would tell only those who needed to know about Edith. I was duty bound to tell Parry; apart from anything else, it would choke off further enquiries around Hatfield by the Lady Elizabeth. I wrote to him, telling him about Edith. Regarding my present whereabouts, I said I was detained in the rebel camp but under comfortable conditions. And then, of course, I had to tell Robert Kett. Unless he agreed the letter could be sent with a covering note from him saying the seal was not to be broken, Edith’s visit to Elizabeth would become common gossip throughout Norfolk, the very thing I had been asked to avoid.

He read the letter, which I took to him at St Michael’s Chapel, shaking his head in amazement over the story. His face seemed more lined these days, more worried. He frowned, though, at one word on the letter. ‘Surely,’ he said indignantly, ‘it is untrue you are “detained” in the camp. You gave your oath to serve me.’

I had expected this. ‘It is only that I do not think Master Parry or the Lady Elizabeth would be pleased to learn I was here voluntarily.’

He looked at me with those large brown eyes that seemed to pierce the soul. ‘Insurance, then, for future employment with the Lady?’

‘Yes. And her protection.’

He smiled wryly. ‘But if we achieve our goals, you could return to working in the Court of Requests, aiding the poor against the landlords. There will be more cases, and life will be easier for the defendants.’

‘In truth I would prefer that, but I will never be allowed to return there while Richard Rich is Lord Chancellor.’ I remembered that terrifying January day when I had found him waiting for me in Parry’s office. ‘Indeed, it is from him that I need the Lady Elizabeth’s protection.’

Kett said, ‘Perhaps we may be able to get rid of Rich, when our cause wins.’

‘Amen to that. But – if you agree, I would like my – insurance.’

Kett said, ‘Cross through the word detained . Just say you are in the camp.’

I hesitated, then took the quill Kett offered me and crossed out the word, so thickly it could not be read at all. He nodded, and sanded the letter. ‘I will ensure it gets to Hatfield unread. Through one of my couriers who brings information from London.’

* * *

FINALLY , JOHN AND ISABELLA Boleyn had had to be told. I had visited them the day after Peter Bone told me his story, Nicholas accompanying me on the now familiar walk down the escarpment, through the remains of Bishopsgate Bridge gatehouse, along the streets where so much blood had been spilt, and down to the castle. In Norwich those going about their business looked nervous if they were of gentleman status, more confident and sometimes cocky if they were poor. The walls, I knew, were now patrolled by men loyal to Kett.

Norwich Castle was quieter today, though the prison stink was strong as ever with so many held there. John Boleyn’s cell, with its space, furniture, and now with Isabella in residence, was like an island in a sea of gloom. The two seemed happy enough. I told them of my discovery of where Edith had been those nine years. I watched them closely as I recounted the story; both seemed genuinely shocked. Boleyn said bitterly, ‘And she never thought to send even a note that she was alive.’

Isabella said gently, ‘Perhaps she thought in time her silence would give you freedom to marry again.’

‘You did not know her as I did, my love. God save her soul, but the only person Edith ever thought of was herself.’

I said, ‘Would you like her ring, John?’

His eyes flashed with anger for a moment. He shook his head vigorously.

Nicholas said, ‘Have you heard any more from Chawry?’ Isabella gave me a quick look, and I saw from Boleyn’s face that she had not yet told him of the attempted rape. Perhaps she thought he already had too much to bear. ‘Nothing,’ Boleyn said. ‘But it has not been long, I hope for some news soon. Jesu knows what state Brikewell is in.’ So he believed Chawry had gone there.