Tombland

We turned into the Maid’s Head entrance. The doors were open and the place was busy, officers from Warwick’s army talking in the hallway, servants scurrying around. Master Theobald, supervising, saw two dirty, ragged creatures enter, and hurried over with a grim look. As he came close, though, his eyes widened in recognition. ‘Master Shardlake?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought you were at the camp.’

Again, I displayed my wrists. ‘We were among those chained facing the earl’s army this morning.’

‘Dear God, I heard about that, but doubted it was true. Those filthy animals, to do such a thing to gentlemen, thank God it is over. There will be much hanging done now, and a good thing.’

I said, ‘I have some belongings here; I also wondered if we might clean ourselves up, even take a bed, if one is available. We need to stay in Norwich a day or two before returning to London.’

‘I have kept your belongings, sir, and you may have your old room tonight, though the two of you must share it – most have been taken by the earl’s officers, though they are out now, attending to matters at Dussindale and in the town. You will have seen the horrible state the city is in, it is even worse down by the Market Square. Rubbish and filth and terrible sights everywhere.’ He leaned in close. ‘Tomorrow, though, you must leave, for the earl is making the Maid’s Head his permanent headquarters while he deals with matters in the city. Be careful in town after dark – some of the soldiers have been set to search out the leaders of the Norwich men who supported the rebels, and they have not been gentle with the populace.’ Again I thought of Edward and Josephine – those searching would have the names and descriptions of those they sought, perhaps supplied to Warwick by Michael Vowell.

I asked Master Theobald if there had been any letters, but he told me there had been no post for a fortnight. We went up to our old room – it was strange to see it again – and bowls of hot water were brought, enabling us to wash away the worst of the filth that caked us, and to don our old clothes. Food was also brought, and we ate ravenously. Afterwards, I lay back on the bed, sighing at the relief it brought my poor back. ‘What did you think of the Earl of Warwick?’ I asked Nicholas.

‘A strong man. A born commander, mightily clever. Probably more skilled politically than the Protector, though that’s not difficult.’

‘A classic hard man from the old king’s days,’ I mused. ‘I wondered what he meant by saying these whirling times may not yet be over. With the rebellions, the disasters in Scotland, the French declaring war – perhaps the King’s Council will be looking for a new Protector soon.’ I sighed. ‘Give me half an hour and then we will go out and try to find Barak and the others. And before we leave Norwich,’ I added grimly, ‘we are going to visit Master Gawen Reynolds again.’

Nicholas looked from the window at the churchyard on the corner of Elm Street opposite. It was already getting dark. He said, ‘I don’t think you should go anywhere, sir, you need rest. I will beg a hornlamp and go to see what I can discover.’

I wanted him to go, I was desperate to find out what had happened to Josephine and Edward, to Isabella, above all to Barak, but warned him, ‘The innkeeper said it could be dangerous after dark.’

‘Not for a gentleman, I think, not now. I will wear my robe. If I encounter soldiers, to show my wrists should be enough – it seems to be becoming a badge of honour.’

* * *

IT WAS QUITE DARK when Nicholas shook me awake; he had lit a candle by my bed. I sat up painfully. ‘What time is it?’ I turned towards the window; I could hear drunken yells and shouts. A woman’s desperate cry of fear sounded from outside, very near.

‘Past midnight. Master Theobald was right, things are rough in the city. Soldiers coming back from Dussindale think all the poor of Norwich are rebel sympathizers. I saw many prisoners from Dussindale, too, being led to the Guildhall prison and the castle. Barak was not among them.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘My clothes and accent saved me trouble, I got as far as the Market Square.’ He smiled, and beckoned someone forward. To my amazement, Isabella Boleyn stepped into the candlelight. She looked tired and drawn, her clothes were dirty, but she was unhurt. She reached out a hand and took mine.

‘You are safe,’ I said.

‘Yes, when they took my husband to Mousehold, they put me out of the prison, but thanks be to God the innkeeper at the place I stayed before let me return. Nicholas says my husband is safe, and to be returned to the castle.’

‘Yes. On Warwick’s orders, and they will be obeyed. And we have discovered much.’ I told Isabella what Peter Bone and Michael Vowell had revealed, though not about her husband’s false alibi. I would leave Boleyn himself to tell her about that.

‘So Chawry was innocent. I had begun to think him responsible for everything.’ She smiled sadly.