Tombland

‘I thought seeing her dead might cool old Reynolds’s anger, but it seemed only to fire it up more. He had somehow convinced himself Edith had spent the last nine years as a whore. He said if her hands were bad, it was probably through pulling off customers. He said he wasn’t going to bury her, he wanted her put head first in the river with her worn-out old cunt displayed to the world. I warned him that could take suspicion off Boleyn, if people were to believe the husband murdered Edith so his new marriage would not be declared invalid, he would not display her body to the world. But old Reynolds was beyond reason. Silly old fool, he’s never learned that to truly succeed in this world you must control yourself.’

I thought, Like you, and others like you whom I have met, cold as ice, thinking of killing people as if they were flies.

Vowell was frowning; angry, I guessed, not with me but with Reynolds. ‘I told him I was going to bury her, and went back to the horses to fetch the spade. On my way back I heard a splash and then saw Reynolds standing in the mud, with Edith’s body sticking up out of the water, pulling her drawers off to expose everything she had. He shouted at me to help him out, he had wrenched his leg badly – I was surprised someone his age managed to do that alone, but it is amazing what a man may do when overcome with fury. I got him back to the bridge, and told him I was going to take Edith out and bury her as planned, but he said if I did, he would tell all Norwich that I was no secret radical as I pretended, but an agent of Norwich council and of Southwell.’ Vowell shrugged. ‘Well, Reynolds was too powerful a man for me to kill, it did not matter that much to me whether Boleyn was hanged or not, and if he wanted to let his anger get the better of his judgement, that was up to him. So I helped him back to the horses – he really had hurt his leg, I don’t think it’s ever got better – and we rode home. It was after that I decided to offer my services to Sir Richard Southwell as a full-time spy. I had had enough of Reynolds, and trouble was already stirring among the people. Though I agreed to do him a last favour in freeing the twins from Surrey Place when they were taken prisoner. Southwell wanted it done too; he wants Gerald and Barnabas working for him full time. He had a final go at killing Boleyn through poison at the Castle, but it didn’t work.’ Vowell smiled nastily. ‘And that, Master Lawyer, is the end of my story.’

‘What of Boleyn’s lack of an alibi for the hours between nine and eleven that night?’

He shrugged. ‘I heard Gawen Reynolds talked about that to Sir Richard Southwell; I think he arranged something.’ He smiled again. ‘There, you have learned more from me than I from you. But it doesn’t matter. I shall take you to Surrey Place as I promised, and you will doubtless die in the battle tomorrow.’

I stared at him, my head spinning with astonishment. I said, ‘I thought you would kill me here.’

He shook his head. ‘Your murder might raise enquiries, and I do not want my cover blown all over the camp. You and Overton can repeat our conversation to anyone you like in the hours you have left, sing like birds, for all I care. Nobody will believe you, and I do not care whether Reynolds or Boleyn hangs. Most important, I shall be gone. It has been decided my usefulness in Norwich is at an end now. Everything now will be decided in battle. I have orders from Captain Kett to take a message to some people who were in the Suffolk camp, asking if any could support him tomorrow. But I shall not deliver it, or go anywhere near Suffolk. I shall slip away. I have other orders, a new commission, abroad.’

‘From whom?’

He smiled. ‘The King’s Council. I have received my orders from Southwell. I am glad I shall not be in London. I have a feeling Protector Somerset’s days are numbered. He has made a great mess in Scotland, and the Council say he was too soft with the rebels at the beginning.’ Vowell stood up, patted himself complacently on the chest, and smiled at me. ‘I know so much; it is great entertainment. Now, come on.’ He put his knife away, then stepped over and reached behind me, hauling me roughly to my feet and pushing me outside. The sun was lower in the sky now. From the direction of Norwich I heard the sound of loud, repeated gunfire. Vowell smiled again. ‘Ah, the landsknechts have arrived. Firing their guns in the air, no doubt. I hear they love to make a show before the killing starts.’

Chapter Seventy-seven