Tombland

‘It is.’ I told him what I knew of the Boleyn case, the Lady Elizabeth’s interest, and Toby Lockswood’s accompanying us to Norwich, though I had to leave out the story of Edith Boleyn’s visit to Hatfield. When I had finished, Barak looked at me narrowly. ‘I thought you’d had enough of political matters.’

‘This is not political. The Lady Elizabeth only wants us to investigate the facts and ensure justice is done.’

‘It may not be high London politics, but it’s political around here. The Boleyn name isn’t popular, I’ve learned that much, and John Boleyn setting up house with an alewife did him no good with the local gentry.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

He looked at me sharply. ‘Do you think him innocent?’

‘I honestly don’t know. My mission is to ensure all information comes before the court, and that he has a fair trial.’

Nicholas asked, ‘Do you think they’ll be able to find an impartial jury?’

Barak shrugged. ‘It won’t be easy. The name Boleyn isn’t popular, as I’ve said. And the judges will be looking for a conviction on an outrage like this. Sentencing gets harsher every year; it’s thanks to all these Calvinistic types in power.’

‘You told me one of the judges on the circuit is a hard man. Judge Gatchet, wasn’t it?’

Barak nodded seriously. ‘He’ll want a kill. You know the other judge, Reynberd; quiet, smiling. Sometimes he pretends to be asleep, but he observes everything, especially local politics. He can strike hard when he chooses but he’s not as harsh as Gatchet. As usual on Assizes, they appoint two different types, to balance each other.’

‘You sound out of sympathy with the Assizes,’ Nicholas observed.

Barak leaned back in his chair. ‘Ay, lad, I am. Seeing the judges entering the cities with their armed retinues, all pomp and ceremony, up there on horses in their red robes, the robes of blood, as people call them ... Then watching them hurry through the capital cases, afraid of catching gaol fever. They’re on to the next town before the hanging day. Some of the civil cases too’ – he shook his head. ‘Last year a landlord brought a case against a blind widow with five children. Her husband was his tenant, but he died, and the landlord wanted to put the widow and children out on the grounds they couldn’t manage the farm. He won, the judge saying the tenant had to be able to farm the land to pay the landlord his due rent, and the widow and children went on the streets.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose he was right, as a matter of law.’

‘Unfortunately, he was,’ I agreed.

‘That’s hard,’ Nicholas said quietly.

‘Ho, Nick, I thought you were the landlord’s friend.’

‘Not where an injustice like that is concerned.’

‘Spirit of the times,’ Barak said bitterly. ‘Pay the poor in worthless money, conscript them to serve in this mad Scottish war.’

I smiled. ‘You are become a Commonwealth man.’

He shrugged. ‘I see what I see. I was here in Norwich on the winter Assizes two years ago, and, by God, things are worse now. People are saying they wish King Henry was back, at least you knew where you were with the old bastard.’

‘Usually in trouble,’ Nicholas said feelingly.

Barak sighed. ‘Well, I think I’ll make this my last Assizes. Spend more time working with the London solicitors.’ He smiled, brightening. ‘I can write a fair hand with my left now, it’s taken a lot of practice and it’s a bit of a scrawl but it’s legible. I can take depositions again.’

‘That is good,’ I said, looking uncomfortably at his prosthesis, the attached knife sticking out, protected by its leather sheath.

There was an uncomfortable silence. I was conscious that a group of four young men, who had taken seats at an adjoining table shortly before, were looking at us. They were sunburned, wore wide hats and leather smocks, and long poles were balanced on their table. I took them for boatmen from the nearby river.

‘The Blue Boar’s coming up in the world,’ one said, loud enough for us to hear. ‘Look at yinder gemmen.’

‘Even if they are a funny-looking crew.’

‘Furriners here for the Assizes, probably. Come to see who’s going to dance from market gibbet next week.’

‘Yin’s a hunchback, yin’s got a metal hand. Can’t see what’s wrong with the third one.’

‘Maybe he’s missing his cock.’

They laughed coarsely and Nicholas reddened. ‘You insolent churls,’ he said, pushing back his chair. Barak put out a restraining hand, then laid his artificial one on the table with a loud clang, and pulled off the sheath covering the knife. It was not long, but sharp. He looked meaningfully at the men.

‘We’re just mardlin, sir,’ one said, though a touch aggressively, and they bent their heads over their drinks again. Barak turned back to us. ‘See what I mean,’ he said quietly. ‘Gentlemen aren’t popular here now, and don’t get the usual civilities.’

‘Insults that children would make,’ Nicholas said, still staring boldly at the men. One looked back at him threateningly, and Barak asked, to distract him, ‘What are your next steps on the case?’