Tombland

I watched as he limped across and washed Mousy thoroughly. She screamed and bawled all the time, a far cry from the gentle, biddable child I had known. Then he took off his shirt, swaddled her in it and walked up and down, making soft cooing noises. ‘She needs milk more than anything,’ he said. ‘And soon.’

I sat and looked at them, still numb from this latest, terrible shock. Barak looked at me incredulously. ‘Nick says you want to take her back to London with us.’

‘She has nobody else. I’m going to adopt her.’ I had not even thought of it till then, but the moment the words were out of my mouth I knew it was what I wanted to do.

* * *

IT WAS ANOTHER HOUR before Nicholas returned. With him was a woman in her thirties, an apron over her cheap wadmol dress. She was short and buxom, with a round, kindly face and, beneath her white coif, large, intelligent blue eyes which softened immediately at the sight of Mousy. Nicholas said breathlessly, ‘The woman at the cathedral directed me to this goodwife. She’s her cousin. Her name is Liz Partlett, she is a wet-nurse and has just left her employer.’

‘Can you help us?’ I asked. ‘I will pay well.’

‘Yes,’ she said in a quiet Norfolk accent. ‘My own baby died last spring, poor lallen thing, but I just keep producing milk.’ She gently took the baby from Barak. ‘Come, you’re not holding the poor grub right, give her to me. Don’t, you’ll drop her.’

I said, ‘We have the key to the room next door, you can go there.’

‘Very well, sir,’ she said obediently, smiling down at Mousy who had quietened at once and was already pawing instinctively at her breasts. ‘How old is the poor child?’

‘Six months now.’

‘Your boy told me both her parents had just died.’ She looked at me keenly, her eyes lingering on the marks still visible on my wrists, though she said nothing.

‘Yes. One of the many Norfolk tragedies,’ I added bitterly. ‘Her name is Mary, but her parents called her Mousy.’

‘Come, then, Mousy.’ She left the room.

Barak said, ‘I think you found a gem there, Nick boy.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I think you did.’

* * *

LIZ HAD BEEN GONE only a short time when Master Theobald appeared. He looked at us, taking a deep breath. ‘My servant says you have brought a baby and a wet-nurse here.’

‘We had no option. We found her in the church over the road; her parents had been killed. We knew her mother.’

Master Theobald’s eyes widened. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I am afraid you must still leave within the hour. The Earl of Warwick is making the Maid’s Head his headquarters, everyone other than his men must leave. I am sorry. There may be room at other inns, perhaps in the marketplace. Most of the soldiers have been quartered on the citizens.’

I said, ‘We shall need fresh horses to return to London. But we have next to no money left. Might you help us?’ He looked doubtful, and I added, ‘If you let me know what is owed, I will give you a promissory letter now, and will pay as soon as I get back to London.’ I paused. ‘I am a serjeant of Lincoln’s Inn, I may be trusted. For myself, I have no money left here, like many in the city.’

He looked at me for a moment, then nodded. ‘Very well. I trust you, Serjeant Shardlake, despite the strange goings-on your stay has sometimes brought. And you suffered with the other chained gentleman at Norwich. I will arrange horses. But please despatch the money and horses promptly when you return to London. You will understand our trade has been much disrupted.’ Despite himself, he smiled. ‘A baby now.’ He shook his head, bowed, and left.

* * *

THE THREE OF US , left alone, were silent a moment. Then Nicholas said, ‘Josephine’s and Edward’s murders must be reported.’

‘There’s no point,’ I answered wearily. ‘There can be little doubt Edward was sought out and killed as a senior rebel on Warwick’s orders, and Josephine was killed for – for sport. If we report it, nothing will be done, and we could find ourselves questioned about our relationship with Edward. No, if anybody asks, we heard the sound of a crying baby in the church, and found it was the child of my former servant. That is all.’

‘At least we could arrange a Christian burial,’ Nicholas said, his voice breaking.

Barak answered impatiently, ‘Can you imagine how many burials there will be in Norwich this week? No, we should leave as soon as possible.’

‘There is one thing left to do,’ I said grimly. I was still determined to deal with Gawen Reynolds.

* * *

THE FIVE OF US made our way to the marketplace; Barak, Nicholas and Liz Partlett carrying Mousy. Fed and comforted, the poor child had mercifully fallen asleep. I looked at her, amazed by the sudden decision I had made, wondering whether I could love this child enough to adopt her. A clutch at my heart told me that perhaps I could.