Tombland

‘My former assistant. He is now a jobbing solicitor, and works part-time assisting the judges on the summer and winter circuits near London.’ I considered. ‘The circuit will probably be trying cases in Buckinghamshire now, on their way out to East Anglia.’

Parry said, ‘The Norwich Assizes opens on the eighteenth of June. Less than a fortnight away. Could this Barak be useful?’

I answered carefully. ‘He might be able to help with information. He worked with me for many years, and is quite trustworthy.’

Parry considered. ‘Then I agree that you talk to him about the case. But not about Edith Boleyn’s visit to Hatfield.’

‘Of course.’ I considered. ‘Surely there is a good chance of Boleyn being found innocent. If his vanished wife had turned up at his house again after nine years, and he had remarried, that would give him a motive to kill her, but quietly and secretly. Displaying the body publicly like that, showing she had been alive the day before – that automatically invalidates his new marriage, and opens an investigation where he must be a suspect. Why would any sane man do that?’

Parry shrugged. ‘Perhaps she returned home and he was so overcome with rage and hatred he temporarily lost his reason. But I agree, it sounds more like someone wanting to get Boleyn into trouble. As I said, he is unpopular locally, and I do not need to tell you that counts for much in a jury trial.’

‘What of his family?’ I asked. ‘His new wife? Has he any children from his marriage to Edith?’

‘His new wife is holed up at his house, I believe. John Boleyn had twin boys by Edith, they are in their late teens now.’ Parry frowned. ‘The authorities in Norfolk seem convinced Boleyn will be found guilty and his lands forfeit to the King. Officials of the Norfolk feodary and escheator have already been sniffing around his properties. He is rich enough for his lands to interest the royal officials. I’ve got Copuldyke to go on the record as Boleyn’s attorney, and warn them off, remind everyone the case is sub judice ; he is innocent until proven guilty, and his family should be left alone until and unless he is convicted.’

‘Indeed.’

Parry grunted. ‘The escheator and feodary, the officials responsible for the King’s properties in Norfolk, are Henry Mynne and, as feodary, the Lady Mary herself. Both delegate their work to local officials – Richard Southwell is steward of many of Mary’s Norfolk properties while Mynne’s official in that part of Norfolk is John Flowerdew. A nasty pair. Perhaps you have met Flowerdew? He is a serjeant-at-law like you, though he concentrates his efforts on grasping as much Norfolk land as he can.’

‘No, we’ve never met.’

‘As for Southwell, he is the Lady Mary’s creature.’ He raised his eyebrows again. ‘Yes, this damned case reaches out to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she set Southwell on the family.’

I considered. ‘Boleyn’s indictment for murder is public. From what you said, there is already gossip in Norwich.’

‘Indeed. But that will be nothing to the open scandal if he is found guilty and hanged. The family name, the foul details of the crime – the pamphleteers will have the time of their lives, they’ll be selling versions of the story from London to Northumberland.’ Parry’s voice deepened with anger. ‘I despair when I look at the stuff that floods out of the printing presses now; Commonwealth men ranting against the rich, Calvin’s people’s warning of hellfire and the Apocalypse, the mad prophecies and lewd stories, the biting and slandering. I wish the damned press had never been invented.’

Nicholas broke the silence that followed by asking him, ‘Do you think Master Boleyn guilty, sir?’

Parry gave him an irritated look. ‘God’s pestilence, lad, how on earth should I know? I have no idea. I know only that Copuldyke’s man Lockswood has visited him in Norwich Castle gaol and said he makes a sad and sorry figure.’

I looked Parry in the eye. ‘Are you certain nobody knows Edith Boleyn was here? Apart from you and Mistress Blanche?’

‘Certain. So far as the other servants noticed her, she was just another poor beggar come to the door. Nobody else knows her name. And they mustn’t,’ he added with emphasis. ‘The Lady Elizabeth cannot be associated with this.’

I asked, ‘Then why do you wish us to go to Norfolk?’

Parry sighed, long and hard. ‘I do not wish you to go anywhere. But I had to give the Lady Elizabeth the news of the murder – she would likely have found out through tittle-tattle when it came to trial. Her first reaction was that we must tell the authorities Edith Boleyn had been here. That might mean her movements could be traced back, and then perhaps something could be found out about where she had been these last nine years.’

‘Lady Elizabeth was right,’ I observed quietly. ‘Strictly speaking, if you, or she, know about Edith Boleyn’s visit here so soon before her murder, and say nothing, that could be construed as withholding evidence.’