Tombland

‘Slipped in the mud in Tombland during the spring rains. I was with him at the time. He’s not been able to walk properly since. Anyway, I have had enough of this household. I thought you should know.’ And with that, he stepped back and closed the door. I went over to Nicholas and Toby. ‘What was that about?’ Nicholas asked.

I told them. ‘If Reynolds says that Edith complained to him of violence from her husband, it would damn Boleyn further.’

‘Why does he not do so?’ Toby asked. ‘He wants Boleyn hanged.’

‘Because he ignored his daughter’s appeal. If that became public, his reputation would suffer further. And that is what matters to him. Poor Edith,’ I concluded heavily. ‘What sort of life did she endure?’

* * *

THAT EVENING , I made notes of the evidence we had gathered so far. There was no doubt, it all seemed to damn John Boleyn even further. Yet still the picture of a violent, brutal husband did not, to me, accord with the man in Norwich Castle. It was time for me to write to Parry and Elizabeth. I considered whether to tell them things were looking bad, that a guilty verdict looked likely and that the application for a pardon might be needed, and that I myself was unsure of Boleyn’s guilt. However, though the trial was only a week away, there were still leads to follow. Tomorrow we would go to Brikewell. So I merely wrote to say I was investigating as thoroughly as I could, and would write again shortly. I sealed the letters, put them in a bag, and took them down to be given to tomorrow’s post-rider to London. I wondered what reception the letters would get at Hatfield. Parry, I guessed, would not be too concerned at the lack of progress, but the Lady Elizabeth was a different matter.

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, another fine sunny day, Toby again joined us for breakfast punctually at six. His mother, he said, was a little better. Scarcely had he sat down than Barak appeared in the doorway. The man waiting on the breakfast tables looked askance at his arm and cheap clothing, but Barak ignored him and came to sit with us. I said, ‘You remember Toby Lockswood? He was with us when we rode in on Thursday.’

‘Ay.’ Barak shook Toby’s hand. ‘You’re the local knowledge on the case.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Ears and eyes on the ground, that’s what you need.’ Barak added approvingly.

‘Yes, and my Norwich contacts provided me with useful information yesterday evening.’ Toby turned to us. ‘I have an address for Scambler’s aunt, down in Ber Street, and have also managed to trace Josephine and Edward Brown.’

‘Josephine,’ Barak said. ‘Of course, she’s here now. How is she?’

‘Her husband works for a stonemason, she as a spinner. They have moved to a place in Conisford, south of the castle.’ He hesitated. ‘A poor area.’

I said, ‘We shall go and see her, and Scambler too, when we return from Brikewell this evening. Thank you, Toby. How did you manage to trace Josephine?’

‘My friend discovered that the retired lawyer, Henning, and his wife both died of smallpox last year. The executors sold his house and put the servants out. My friend got in touch with their old steward, who is living little better than a beggar now, but he was able to tell me about Goodman Brown and his wife. They had kept in touch until a few months ago.’

Nicholas shook his head. ‘You mean the servants were left with nothing? That’s hard.’

‘Happens more often than you’d think,’ Toby replied.

Barak said, ‘Good work.’

Toby gave him a careful look. ‘I believe you are also acting as eyes and ears for the judges, weighing up the public mood in Norwich.’

I said, ‘Jack did similar work for Lord Cromwell for many years.’

‘Cromwell.’ Toby looked, impressed. ‘They say he would have been a friend to the poor, had Parliament or the old king let him.’

‘Very true,’ Barak agreed.

‘But that is not so of the judges,’ Toby said, his blue eyes still keenly on Barak’s face.

‘I’m just here to see what the general mood is. The judges have to report back to Lord Chancellor Rich and the Protector after the Assizes.’

‘And what would you say the mood is?’

‘Very discontented.’ Barak smiled enigmatically. ‘It’s been the same all along the circuit, but especially here. I’ve never come across anything like it.’

* * *

WE RODE OUT shortly after. My back was much better and I hoped the five-mile ride would be bearable. To avoid the marketplace, we rode out of St Benedict’s Gate to the west of the city before joining the road south. Early as it was, the road was busy with people bringing goods to market, ranging from carters with loads of butter and cheese to peddlers with huge packs on their backs. There were also several gentlemen and lawyers riding in for the start of the Assizes, now only three days away, each with a small retinue of servants. Two elderly lawyers in black robes, surrounded by mounted servants, rode up to where a group of teenage lads heading for town were strung out across the road, talking loudly and cheerfully.

‘Make way there, churls,’ the lawyer shouted.