Tombland

Lockswood shook his head as he looked at me. ‘They did not mention her. I remember Isabella stood in the doorway as I spoke with them, watching them with a strange look – dislike, but fear too, I think.’

‘Did you see Master Reynolds, the grandfather?’ I asked. ‘He and his wife must have suffered a shock, believing their daughter had disappeared nine years ago, then learning she had been murdered just days before.’

Lockswood shook his head again. ‘There was no point in my trying to see them. The Reynolds are a rich family, I doubt they’d see a mere solicitor. They might talk to you, sir. Though apparently Reynolds and his wife have shut themselves away since news of their daughter’s death. Word is the old man is convinced John is guilty, and wants to see him hanged.’

I glanced at Nicholas. When Edith came to Hatfield she had said her parents were dead. If she had landed in dire straits, and did not want to return to her husband, surely her parents were the obvious people to appeal to. Yet she had not done so. I could not discuss the Hatfield visit with Copuldyke or Lockswood, but made a note to talk to Edith’s parents as soon as I could.

‘Of course one can understand the interest of the King’s officials,’ Copuldyke interjected. ‘The estate was originally monastic land, held by Boleyn on knight tenure when the old king sold it. Thus if Boleyn is executed, the boys become wards of the King, and he’d have the right to make their marriages – or, rather, the Lady Mary would, as feodary. Although she delegates that work to Sir Richard Southwell. Not that the boys sound very marriageable, especially if the Boleyn lands are forfeited.’

‘And the agent of the escheator, responsible for the administration of the lands if they are forfeited, I believe that is a man called John Flowerdew.’

Copuldyke chuckled throatily again. ‘Flowerdew is a serjeant like you, Brother Shardlake. A busy, quarrelsome fellow. Has his nose into everything, and always on the make. I wish you the joy of meeting him.’ His manner became serious. ‘As for Southwell, you should be careful how you deal with him. He is one of the leading men in Norfolk now, runs twenty thousand sheep and is in line for the King’s Council.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘He is a dangerous man. He has been the subject of many accusations – embezzlement, conspiracy to abduct an heiress, a false witness in the case against his old master the Duke of Norfolk, along with a narrow escape from an accusation of murder.’

‘Murder?’

‘Yes, indeed. Getting on for twenty years ago he was involved in a quarrel with another Norfolk landowner, and ended up knifing him in a fight in London. It was a clear case of murder, but he made an application for a pardon from the old king, and got it.’

‘As the very rich do,’ Toby said quietly.

Copuldyke went on, ‘Do not get into bad odour with him, sir. Especially as he represents Mary, and your instructions are from Elizabeth.’ His voice rose anxiously. ‘Remember that officially you are my agent. I want no trouble with Southwell.’

‘He is no man to meddle with,’ Lockswood agreed.

Copuldyke said, ‘Perhaps if John Boleyn is executed Mary will buy his lands, add them to her Norfolk estates. To spite her sister.’

I answered, ‘Yet these visits by agents of Southwell and Flowerdew seem very – previous. John Boleyn has not yet even been convicted.’

‘The common view is he will be,’ Lockswood said gravely. ‘He’s not popular, especially since marrying Isabella. Then there is the dispute with his neighbour.’

‘What can you tell me about that?’

Copuldyke bridled a little at my addressing his assistant directly rather than him. ‘Tell him, Toby,’ he said. ‘Give Serjeant Shardlake the benefit of your great knowledge of the law of property in Norfolk.’ He turned to me. ‘He’s even gone to the trouble of making a sketch map for you.’

Lockswood reddened at his master’s patronizing tone. ‘If it would help you, sir –’

‘I am sure it would.’

He produced a paper from a drawer and placed it on the desk. We leaned forward to look. It was not an exact plan, but had been carefully drawn.

‘That’s good, Lockswood,’ Nicholas said appreciatively.

The older man frowned slightly; he was half a dozen years older than Nicholas, and probably far more experienced in the law. But as a clerk his status was distinctly junior. ‘This is a map of John Boleyn’s manor, North Brikewell,’ Lockswood explained. ‘He owns other properties, as I said, but this is his largest property and his residence’ – he pointed to the top of the map – ‘is the manor house here, next to the village, which is quite small. And down here, see, the Brikewell stream. It divides the manor from South Brikewell, which is owned by his neighbour Leonard Witherington. Both manors are farmed on the usual three-field system, two fields planted with crops and the third left fallow each year, on a rotating basis. Each field is divided into strips, and each tenant holds one or more strips in each field.’