Tombland

Nicholas frowned. ‘You do not know Beatrice. She is nothing like her mother. If you were not so cynical, about women as much as men –’

‘Then I would be married. But not to someone as scheming and superficial as Beatrice strikes me.’ I instantly wished I had not spoken, but I was tired and out of sorts.

Nicholas said, with quiet emphasis, ‘I say again, you do not know her. Alone, she is gentle and kind.’

To my relief, we were interrupted by Toby’s arrival. He looked tired beneath his tan, his black hair and beard uncombed. ‘My apologies for being late. My mother was worse again.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you should not stay tonight. With Barak we can manage the twins.’

He sighed. ‘There is little I can do, at home or on the farm, save cut down the thistles and watch the crops swelk in the heat. It’s going to be another stonging day. Let’s beard the locksmith in his den before the sun gets too high.’

* * *

WE WALKED THE short distance to Snockstobe’s shop. I hoped the sight of the warrant would loosen his tongue. The shop was open, but only young Walter stood behind the counter. He looked at us apprehensively.

I held up the warrant. ‘Master Snockstobe?’ I asked peremptorily.

‘He aren’t in yet. I don’t know what to do, there’s a man coming at nine for some keys, and I don’t know where they are.’ He looked despairingly at the rows of keys behind him, each marked with a number. ‘Master hasn’t put them in the book.’

‘Is he often late?’ I asked sharply.

The boy hesitated. ‘Please don’t tell him I said, but since his wife left him last year he spends most evenings bezzling in the inns. Sometimes he comes in late. But he doesn’t miss appointments.’

I nodded and said, ‘We will return in an hour. Tell your master we have the warrant, and that if he has anything to tell us about Boleyn’s keys he had better do it then.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Walter said unhappily. We turned and walked out.

‘God’s death,’ I said as we made our way back into Tombland. ‘Will nothing go smoothly?’

‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Nicholas said. His tone was frosty; he was still angry over my remarks about Beatrice.

I said, ‘If we’ve got an hour, I suggest we take a look at the Assizes. They’ll be opening soon.’

We set off through the morning heat for the castle.

* * *

THE SHIRE HALL was a large building with Gothic towers just north-east of the castle, made of the same white stone. A few people stood talking outside the doors, gentlemen by their dress, and I saw Sir Richard Southwell, conferring with a couple of others. He wore his usual haughty, disdainful expression. Catching sight of me, he gave me a brief, unsmiling nod. So he remembered our brief meeting at St Paul’s; but then he struck me as a man who would forget nobody. I remembered Toby saying the twins and some of their young gentlemen friends had done dirty work for him on occasion.

Inside, we passed through a small antechamber into a large courtroom with a high, vaulted roof, the judges’ table on a dais covered with heavy green cloth. I looked at the wooden dock, set on high steps to the left of the courtroom. Black-robed officials had already taken their places at benches before the judges’ table, and more were bringing in papers. Soldiers in royal livery stood guard at the doors and round the walls. Many people, mostly gentry, by their fine clothes, were already sitting on the benches facing the judges; others stood talking. A tall figure detached himself from a group and came over to us. ‘Serjeant Shardlake? Come to see the opening?’

‘Serjeant Flowerdew. God give you good morrow. Yes, indeed.’

Flowerdew seemed in a better mood this morning. ‘I imagine they will start with dressing down the JPs and city officials over lack of enforcement of the proclamations. How goes the Boleyn case?’

‘There have been some interesting developments,’ I answered neutrally.

He looked at me narrowly. ‘Have you found something that may help Boleyn?’

‘One always hopes for justice.’

‘Indeed.’

The bailiff entered and called for silence. Everyone moved quickly to the benches as Judges Reynberd and Gatchet entered the court. Reynberd wore a haughty expression on his plump face, Gatchet looked severe as ever. They sat. Reynberd, the senior judge, nodded to Gatchet. He leaned forward on the bench, bony hands clasped together.