Tombland

‘In the name of our Sovereign Lord King Edward the Sixth, I declare the Norwich Summer Assizes open. We have much business, but I shall begin by telling you of our just anger, on behalf of the King and the Protector, at the lack of proper enforcement of the laws and proclamations. The returns for the sheep tax are late and inadequate. Unauthorized preaching by self-styled prophets and rabble-rousers continues; godless pamphlets are found in the streets and pinned to doors.’ He banged a fist hard on the table. ‘Though the justices and constables have been lax in finding and punishing the authors of these activities. I remind you, gentlemen, of the words of Master Calvin, who is much favoured by the King, that the common people must be kept on a short bridle. Which brings me to the unrest, the resistance to the law and the right order, which have recently been seen in southern as well as western parts. They must not spread here. Stirrers of trouble must be sought out and dealt with, as they were in the spring commotions. Now, though, the Protector is arranging for commissions to look into illegal enclosures to travel the country, and they will see to it that any injustices are remedied. That is enough! So get to your duties, get your informers working. And I tell you we intend the strictest justice to be done on the criminal matters coming before this Assizes. Those found guilty will be publicly hanged in the market square on Saturday, and the executioner has been instructed that all those sentenced will be given the short drop, so their slow strangling may be a lesson to the populace. And nobody will be allowed to approach the guilty and pull their legs to break their necks.’

‘When are the commissioners coming?’ someone shouted from the well of the court. ‘We hear no word of them!’

Gatchet went puce. He pointed to the interrupter, a young man in a fine doublet with a fierce, angry face. ‘Arrest that man! He is in contempt of court!’ Two soldiers hurried across, hauled him from his place, and led him from the room. Gatchet shouted after him, ‘Contempt of this court will be severely punished. You’ll lose your ears for this!’

Such a penalty could not be imposed for such a minor offence, but nonetheless the court stirred uneasily. Gatchet leaned back, and Reynberd sat up. ‘I hope you have all taken note of the learned judge’s words.’ He shifted the papers on the bench with his plump hands. ‘And now, we shall proceed to the first civil case. In the matter of the will of the late Gerald Carberry –’

I said to Nicholas, ‘A disputed will. I’ve had enough of those, come on.’ We bowed to the court, and went out.

* * *

WE WALKED BACK to Snockstobe’s shop. ‘The short drop,’ Nicholas said. ‘The condemned will strangle slowly, rather than breaking their necks.’

‘They mean to make a harsh example.’

‘The judges in the red robes of blood indeed,’ Toby said quietly.

We had come to the top of the marketplace; beside the gallows that already stood next to the Guildhall carpenters were working, digging holes in the cobbles. Newly carved posts of various sizes lay on the ground beside them. They were preparing for a multiple hanging. A little knot of poorly dressed people stood watching. As we passed I heard snatches of conversation.

‘– he was in the water right under Bishopsgate Bridge. A boatman coming up the river found him stuck in the waterweed.’

‘Must’ve fallen off. Draahnin’, that’s a bad way to go –’

‘He was always bezzled by nine. Don’t know how he kept the shop going –’

‘He was a good locksmith though.’

I stopped dead, and turned to the group. ‘A locksmith has drowned?’ I asked.

They looked at me suspiciously. ‘Ay, master. What of it?’

‘What was his name?’

‘Richard Snockstobe. Found dead in the Wensum this morning.’

‘We must go there. Now.’ For a moment I felt quite faint, and leaned on Nicholas’s arm. The nearest to a key witness we had tracked down, and yet he had been found dead the day we were due to serve the subpoena on him.

‘Bishopsgate Bridge. It’s quite a walk,’ Toby said, looking at me dubiously.

‘Now,’ I repeated, setting a fast pace.

We returned to Tombland, then again followed Holme Street, past the hospital with the beggars outside and towards the Blue Boar Inn. We passed under the high gatehouse, onto a stone bridge spanning the Wensum. The escarpment of Mousehold Heath loomed up beyond. Several curious people stood on the parapet of the bridge, looking over. We joined them. A couple of men were pulling something from the river, straining against the reeds wrapped around the corpse’s feet, while the coroner we had met at the Guildhall stood on the bank looking on. I recognized the thin form of Snockstobe, his red face now white with the pallor of death.

‘How do we get down there?’ I asked Toby.

He pointed to where, just beyond the gatehouse, a square was sunk in the earth, with steps leading down to it; that way we could get to the riverbank.

‘What’s that?’ Nicholas pointed to the depression.