Tombland

‘My Lord, you will see I am not young, nor built for escape.’

Warwick smiled coldly at Southwell. ‘Then he’s no more guilty than men like Mayor Codd, who was forced to help the rebels at the start. And these three ended up chained with the rest of the gentlemen. I think we must forget Shardlake’s cowardice in aiding the rebels, as we must that of officials all over the country faced with rebellion, to ensure government continues in the localities.’

Southwell spoke again, more forcefully. ‘I think he should be executed as a rebel. There is much hanging to be done tomorrow, he should be included.’

‘Damned rebel, he is,’ Atkinson repeated.

‘My Lord,’ I said, ‘the Protector’s secretary, Master William Cecil, knows me, and of my past services to the State. And I lodged the pardon on behalf of Master Boleyn’s distant relative, the Lady Elizabeth. Before the rebellion started.’

Warwick inclined his head, but did not look as impressed as I had hoped. He turned to Southwell. ‘You have met this man?’

‘Once.’

I said quickly, ‘In company with Master Cecil.’ Then I dared to say, ‘I think we met a second time, too, though I cannot remember where. I would give five hundred pounds to recall it.’ I forced myself to look at Southwell directly. For the first time, his eyes opened fully and he took a deep breath. Even if Warwick sentenced me to execution as a rebel, I had time to tell Warwick the truth about him. Warwick, who seemed to miss nothing, looked between us, clearly divining something personal was involved here. And hopefully he was not going to arbitrarily hang people connected to Cecil and the Lady Elizabeth. He considered, then said decisively, ‘There are no grounds for trying this man, Sir Richard. He and the boy may go. Now come, we have much to do.’ He looked at Drury. ‘Any word of Robert or William Kett?’

‘None yet, my Lord, but I am sure they will be captured soon.’

Warwick turned back to his papers, though Southwell stared relentlessly at me. I ventured to address Warwick again. ‘My Lord, pardon my interruption, but may I ask that when Master Boleyn is returned to the castle a special guard is put on him, as was done before? There have been attempts to poison his food.’ I looked directly at Southwell and Atkinson. Atkinson’s face twitched, the moles on his face moving up and down each time. Warwick followed my gaze.

He said, ‘It seems indeed there is more to this business than meets the eye. Very well. Sir Richard, now the battle is over should you not go to your mistress the Lady Mary, and put your own estates in order? Shardlake, you and the boy go back to London, but be ready to give evidence about your involvement if called upon. Understood?’

‘Yes, my Lord. But may I stay in Norwich a day or two longer? I have friends there, and I do not know what has become of them.’

Warwick shrugged, clearly tired of us. ‘Very well. But be careful in the city.’

‘Things are quiet enough there now,’ Drury said. ‘It’s as well we quartered the soldiers raised by muster in Norwich. They’ll keep order, and I’ve begun the search for the leaders of the Norwich men who aided the rebels, as you commanded. If the rebels had won this battle, they planned to go straight to the north of the city through the breaches in the walls. Those we have captured already told us that.’ I drew a deep breath, thinking of Josephine and Edward Brown.

Warwick smiled. ‘Yes. Our mustered men are not from Norfolk, and should be willing to keep order here. Though many of them are common rabble raised from the villages. If we had brought them to the battlefield some might have changed sides. Who knows, in these whirling days?’ He smiled again, secretively. ‘Which, I suspect, are not yet quite over.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘By God, the stench from the field down there. It’s getting worse.’

Chapter Eighty

And so, towards evening, Nicholas and I, stunned and exhausted, trailed back to Norwich. Nicholas carried Gerald Boleyn’s sword. We walked downhill to the city gates, avoiding the battlefield. Every bone in my body hurt, my back was sore, and Nicholas had to help me down the hill. I could not get the image of Peter Bone’s white corpse out of my head.