Tombland

‘I thank you for your honesty.’ I smiled sadly. ‘Things are, though, not always quite what they seem. Yes, we were with the chained gentlemen, but we were made prisoners only because of lies told about us by a man who wanted us dead. There is much more I could tell you, and perhaps one day I shall, but not now. Will you take my word that we are not necessarily on different sides?’

She went on staring at me with that penetrating gaze. A servant would not have dared look at a new employer in such a fashion before the rebellion, but many had learned new ways. Then she said, simply, ‘Yes, sir, I take your word.’

‘Thank you. Then you will come to London with us? Perhaps,’ I added tentatively, ‘if you do not wish to return to Norwich and things go well, you might stay to look after Mousy there. But you must decide.’

She nodded then, and smiled. ‘Thank you, sir. I will come, and we shall see.’

Afterwards I should have liked to return to bed, but there was a document I had to prepare, a long deposition to the court giving an account of the story told me by Peter Bone, and then by Michael Vowell after he had betrayed us. Bone was dead, but hearsay evidence of what a dead person had said might – just about – be admissible in court. Michael Vowell, I guessed, would be protected from any proceedings. I got Barak and Nicholas to help me with the drafting, for it had to be worded tactfully, more than stretching the truth in saying we had been held under force in the camp, and avoiding any mention that Vowell had worked as a spy. At length it was done, and I went to bed, leaving poor Nicholas to draw up a second copy for me to sign tomorrow and take to London. Now we had only the second murderer, Gawen Reynolds, to deal with, and I believed I had a way to draw him out, given that crucial factor in his personality, his lack of self-control.

Chapter Eighty-two

Early the next morning, to my surprise, we were wakened by the sound of church bells. Nicholas, Barak and I were all crowded in the same bed, and I looked at them in sleepy astonishment.

‘Why are the bells ringing? It is only Friday, surely?’

Barak sat up and rubbed the stump of his arm. ‘It’ll be for the great thanksgiving service at St Peter’s Church at the marketplace. The service is at ten, it’s eight now. We should get to Reynolds’s house; he may be going there.’

We breakfasted hastily. The inn was full of officers, but I went to look at Mousy before we left. Liz was changing the absorbent rag for her bottom. I was surprised at the lack of any smell. Liz smiled. ‘Breast milk doesn’t stink, sir.’

I smiled. ‘I did not know that; but I know so little of children. We have to go out, to Tombland.’

‘Shall we leave today, sir?’ she asked.

‘I hope so, but it depends how this morning’s – business – goes.’

I returned to Barak and Nicholas. We all carried knives. I would rather Nicholas still had the sword which had been confiscated the day before, and Barak, still limping, needed my stick. Nonetheless, we could expect only Reynolds, his wife and female servants at his house.

* * *

IT WAS A CLEAR , sunny day. Averting our eyes from the fresh bodies hanging from the gallows and the heads which had been set up outside the Guildhall, we made our way to Tombland. Here, unlike in the marketplace, the clearing-up was nearly finished, the square looked almost normal. Magdalen Street, however, that led to the Maid’s Head entrance, had been closed off by a line of soldiers. I saw a massive shield with Warwick’s coat of arms nailed above the front door of the inn. I could not bear to look at the church where Josephine and Edward had been slain.

‘All these signs of the bear and ragged staff all over the city,’ Barak said, perhaps to distract me. ‘Warwick is showing his power.’

Nicholas said, ‘I remember it first being rumoured that the Protector would lead the government forces, but then he ordered Warwick to do it.’

I grunted, ‘Perhaps Somerset knew that leading the army would be the final nail in the coffin of his presenting himself as a friend of the poor. But he should have seen how this victory would strengthen Warwick.’

We had arrived outside the doors of Reynolds’s yard, which were firmly closed. I took a deep breath. ‘Now, in we go. Unfortunately, we must force the women servants to let us in.’ I drew my knife, as did Nicholas, while Barak took the sheath from the knife on his artificial hand. I banged loudly on the door.

There was no reply. We all three banged again, louder. We heard footsteps, and a female voice said tremulously, ‘What is it?’

I put on my most commanding voice. ‘We demand to be admitted at once, we are officers of the law!’ There was silence from within. Barak shouted, ‘Do you want us to break down this door?’

There was the sound of a key turning, and the courtyard door creaked open. A middle-aged woman, eyes wide with fear, stared at Nicholas and me in our dark robes, and Barak with his grotesque hand-knife. ‘What is your name?’ I asked brusquely.