Tombland

Lockswood turned to his master, who nodded his agreement, then said, ‘I visited him last week in the castle gaol, where he is held until trial. An unpleasant place, sir, and Master Boleyn was in a sorrowful state. He seemed shocked by what had happened to him, kept doddering—’

‘Toby!’ Copuldyke snapped. ‘How many times have I told you not to use Norfolk slang in this office?’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Despite his apology, Lockswood’s eyes flashed angrily for a moment. ‘I meant he was shivering, very upset. He kept repeating that he was innocent. And he was concerned for the welfare of his wife. I promised him the Lady Elizabeth’s Comptroller had taken an interest in the case, and would be sending a lawyer experienced in matters of blood. If I may venture an opinion –’

I glanced at Copuldyke, who shrugged and waved a hand. Lockswood continued, ‘I thought, sir, that a guilty man who had left Edith Boleyn’s body in full view would not be so shocked at finding himself in gaol.’

‘Unless he was a good actor,’ Nicholas said.

‘That’s true, sir.’

‘Have you visited his family home?’ I asked.

‘Yes, sir, at his request. It’s a fine old manor house, though most of the servants have left since their master was arrested. His second wife was there, and Master Boleyn’s sons by his first wife. Poor Mistress Boleyn was in a piteous state. She said the neighbours shun her.’

‘Best not refer to her as Mistress Boleyn now,’ Copuldyke said. ‘The return of Edith Boleyn, even if recently dead, invalidates this subsequent marriage. What is her maiden name again?’

‘Heath,’ Lockswood answered. ‘Isabella Heath.’

‘Formerly serving girl at the White Hart Inn in Norwich,’ Copuldyke said. He gave a little bark of laughter. ‘No wonder eyebrows were raised when Boleyn took her into his house after his wife disappeared, and then married her. I hear she’s a saucy strumpet.’

Lockswood did not comment on the remark, but went on quietly, ‘Some have wondered if Isabella might have been involved in Edith’s murder. Like her husband, she has a motive for killing her if she turned up out of the blue. But, of course, she would have no more motive than John Boleyn for displaying the body so grotesquely.’

‘We thought it sounded more like a crime committed by some third party who hated Edith,’ Nicholas observed.

‘And who perhaps hated John Boleyn and Isabella as well,’ I added.

‘When I went to visit Isabella at the house, to tell her a lawyer was coming from London to look at the case, she was full of gratitude,’ Lockswood said. ‘She said she did not know what would become of her, otherwise. She must have suffered for years from all the muckspouts – I beg your pardon, gossips, regarding her low status.’ There was a note of anger in Lockswood’s voice, quickly suppressed. He glanced at Copuldyke, then continued, ‘From what I hear she and her husband were close.’

‘And what of the twin boys?’ I asked. ‘Edith’s children?’

Copuldyke interjected, with some fierceness, ‘Spoiled brats run wild. The Boleyns couldn’t keep a tutor because of their antics. Once when I was riding near their home they threw stones at my horse, and knocked my cap off. Ill-conditioned brats.’ He frowned. ‘But what would you expect, with their mother leaving them to be brought up by a serving woman?’

Lockswood waited till his master had finished, then answered me. ‘Their names are Gerald and Barnabas. Apparently, they have always been difficult, even before their mother left. They are like as two peas, save Barnabas has a large scar running down one cheek. Both resemble her, fair-haired and strongly built.’

‘How were they with Isabella?’ I asked curiously.

‘They just ignored her. They were preparing to set off on a journey when I arrived. They asked me if I thought their father would get off, and when I said I didn’t know, they wanted to know whether the King would take his property if he were hanged, told me the escheator’s and feodary’s men had already been round to take a look. I had to tell them their father’s property was forfeit if he were found guilty. One said to the other that they’d have to go to their grandfather about that.’

‘Who would that be?’

‘Their mother Edith’s father, Gawen Reynolds, he’s a wealthy Norwich merchant and alderman. John Boleyn’s parents are long dead; he inherited their property – not just the North Brikewell manor where they lived, but two other manors in Norfolk. He has some wealth, which is why Southwell’s people and the escheator’s man Flowerdew were sniffing around. Although there are rumours his finances are not in sound order. His income from rents has been falling because of the inflation, and he overstretched himself by buying a large house in London a couple of years ago.’

I considered. ‘The boys sound more interested in the property than in their father.’

‘Yes,’ Lockswood agreed. ‘They did not even ask whether I thought him guilty.’

‘Did they show any sign of mourning their mother?’