Tombland

In a change of mood, he frowned slightly. ‘That was a stupid mistake I made, effectively letting out that I had seen Edith. It just goes to show, one little error can bring all your secrets tumbling out’ – suddenly he grinned again – ‘unless you take quick preventive measures.’ He looked at me sharply. ‘Did you tell Overton? Anyone else?’ He pointed the knife at me. ‘I can easily shove this under your fingernails and rip them out. It is very painful.’

‘Only Nicholas,’ I said. ‘Barak is – somewhere in Norwich.’

Vowell nodded, his expression thoughtful. I asked, ‘Why did you not just have us killed last night?’

‘Because I needed to be sure how much you knew. And because there might have been some enquiry – Kett seems to see you as some sort of pet. The old fool, does he really think he can take on the rulers of England?’

‘He has done well so far. Won two battles. And who knows, may yet win a third.’

He looked at me askance. ‘You, a gentleman and lawyer, hope Kett and his kitlings will win?’

‘England has long needed reform, and he is the man to bring it.’

‘He will bring chaos. Have you heard the prophets preaching the end of the world?’

‘They do not rule this camp. Captain Kett does.’

‘Control is starting to slip to the radicals, as you may have noticed. I have been helping shift it along, to divide the camp.’ Vowell shook his head and laughed again. ‘Christ’s bones, you are indeed a traitor. To King and Protector.’

‘Better traitor than spy.’

He looked offended. ‘Spying can be an honourable profession, as well as a pleasurable one, if one believes in what one is doing.’

‘Like helping Gawen Reynolds murder his daughter?’

He looked me in the eyes. ‘You worked out Reynolds’s involvement, too?’

‘Yes. If you were lying about having seen Edith recently, that could only connect you to Reynolds. She came to see him, didn’t she, to ask for money as a last, desperate resort after the Lady Elizabeth’s Comptroller turned her down?’

Vowell smiled again. ‘Yes. Gawen Reynolds and I have worked closely together for many years. I have been more than a steward, I have acted for him on many matters, including joint affairs with Sir Richard Southwell.’

‘You said they hated each other.’

‘On the contrary, they are the best of friends. Like attracts like.’ He spread his hands. ‘It was part of my job.’ Then he shook his head. ‘But things went wrong the night Edith was killed. Reynolds, like his grandsons, can let his temper get out of control. He made a mess of Edith’s murder.’

‘Were Gerald and Barnabas involved?’

‘Good God, no. Mad as they are, they always loved their mother. But you guessed right about Edith contacting her father as a last hope. She did not dare turn up at the house, but sent a note, saying she was alive and in desperate need of money, and asking him to help. When Gawen Reynolds read it –’ Vowell laughed – ‘he nearly had a seizure. He showed it to me. He said Edith may have hidden away safely somewhere all these years, but now she was alone and he was going to exact his revenge on her.’

‘Why did he hate her so?’

Vowell shrugged. ‘Reynolds can’t keep his hands off women. I was around the house when Edith was young, and I believe he tried it on with his own daughter. My guess is she fought him, at least to begin with. Gawen Reynolds does not tolerate any woman who resists him. I remember once or twice hearing the sound of screams from her chamber.’

Now I realized exactly why Jane Reynolds had so wished Edith had been a boy. I imagined her standing, helpless, in the shadows all those years.

Vowell spoke of this horror with no more emotion than if he had been discussing the weather; his tone had become conversational; he was enjoying telling the tale. I had encountered spies before, and knew the pleasure they could get from removing their masks – when they were safe. I wondered, would he kill me before leaving the hut?

But for the moment, he continued his boasting. ‘Gawen Reynolds planned it all out. He would kill Edith and make it look as though John Boleyn had done it. He always hated his son-in-law, and his setting up home with that Isabella. So he would kill two birds with one stone. In fact, three.’ He laughed. ‘Sir Richard Southwell wanted Boleyn’s land, so he could join his two neighbouring plots together. It would make running the sheep cheaper, if it was all one site. Given his wealth, it was a relatively small matter, but you know how Norfolk gentlemen can become – obsessive – if their wishes are not met.’

‘Like his man John Atkinson. Still pursuing that helpless girl he abducted, I hear.’

Vowell frowned, looking annoyed at my interruption. He continued: ‘The plan was that Boleyn would be executed for the murder and the land put in the hands of the escheator, and Southwell would work with Flowerdew to make sure he got it. The twins would get some compensation.’

‘Yes,’ I said grimly. ‘The corruption of the King’s local officials. Part of what Kett wants to end.’