Tombland

‘I doubt you were the first,’ Nicholas said.

‘No,’ I agreed, remembering the boy they had tormented in London. ‘But Master Boleyn trusted you, didn’t he? You were the only other person allowed a key to Midnight’s stable.’

‘Yes. He said I was to keep the key with me always, allow no one else to have it, especially not the twins. I gave the key to the constable after the murder.’ He gave me a nervous glance.

‘Maybe that was why the twins set on you?’ Nicholas said. ‘A jealous rage because you had control of the horse and its stable?’

Scambler shook his head. ‘People don’t need no excuse to set on me. My aunt says it’s because I’m on my way to be damned.’

‘Do you believe that?’ I asked.

‘No!’ he answered with sudden force. ‘I do no wrong. Her teachings are wicked ... !’ He stopped himself and put a hand to his mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I meant no blasphemy –’

‘It doesn’t matter. We are not the church authorities. Now, Sooty –’

‘Please, sir, please, don’t use that name. My Christian name is Simon.’

‘Very well, Simon. I’m sure you know how important the key to the stable is for the case, given that a pair of muddy boots and the murder weapon were found in there. Can you swear to me you never let the keys out of your possession?’

‘I never gave them to no one,’ he said, but he looked at me worriedly, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Scambler had no ability to conceal his feelings, which perhaps was one reason why he had such problems in life. I said, still gently, ‘That does not answer my question. Was the key ever out of your possession?’

Suddenly, the boy burst into tears, covering his face with his hands; a desperate, frightened sobbing. Toby said, impatiently, ‘Stop blubbering like a great gal, and answer.’

I raised a hand to silence him. ‘Here, lad, calm yourself. Tell me the truth. I swear that unless you have committed a crime, you will not suffer for anything you tell me.’

Scambler looked up at me, his dirty face streaked with tears. ‘I’ve done no crime.’

‘Then I promise you are safe.’

He looked at me, afraid, then said, more to himself than to me, ‘You helped me before. Nobody does.’

‘I will again, if I can.’

Simon took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I told you the twins set on me one day. I’d been on an errand to Wymondham, and was on my way back. They were waiting for me in a patch of woodland about a mile from home. They just jumped out at me, set on me and started punching and kicking me, calling me – names, cruel things. Then they disappeared into the woods again.’

‘Was there any particular reason for them to set on you that day?’

‘No sir. But Gerald and Barnabas, they need no reason.’ He took a deep, sobbing breath. ‘When I got home, I found the key was gone. I wore it around my neck, on a chain; it must have broken during the fight. I was frightened, sir. Master Boleyn was not a bad master but he had a temper. So though I was bruised and bleeding, I went right back to where they attacked me, hoping to see the key on the road or the verge. But I didn’t.’ His voice quickened. ‘It was getting dark, so I thought I’d look again next day. I was busy and couldn’t get away till the afternoon. I went back to the place and this time I found the key on its chain, in the grass beside the road. The strange thing was’ – he frowned – ‘I’d looked in just that spot the day before, and I swear it wasn’t there then. The chain was broken,’ he added.

I glanced at the others. I thought, The twins could have set on him to get the key under cover of the beating, taken it for a day and then returned it, sure that Scambler, even if he guessed what had happened, would say nothing. I could tell from the guilty look on the boy’s face that he, too, had hazarded that guess.

‘When was this attack, Simon?’ I asked.

‘The twelfth of May,’ he answered at once. ‘I remember because it was my mother’s birthday, God save her soul.’ I drew in my breath. The twelfth, just before Edith’s murder on the night of the fourteenth–fifteenth. I looked at the boy. ‘You think the twins took the key?’

‘They could have, and returned it. But why?’

‘Did you not think of telling this to the authorities, after what was discovered in the stables when Mistress Boleyn was found murdered?’

He blushed, and lowered his head. ‘I was frightened of what the twins might do. When the constable came, I didn’t tell him.’

‘They didn’t ask you to make a deposition?’

‘No. The constable said to his assistant it wasn’t worthwhile, everyone knew I was sappy-headed.’

‘Were you still working at Brikewell then?’

‘No. When poor Master Boleyn was arrested, and not there to protect me from the twins, I left at once and came back to Aunt Hilda’s.’ He bowed his head again, kneaded his bony hands together. ‘I’ve done wrong, sir, haven’t I? But I couldn’t work out why the twins would steal the keys just for a day.’

Barak spoke up. ‘Do you happen to know whether Master Boleyn ever used a locksmith?’