There was a moment’s silence, and then to my surprise I heard the faint sound of a woman’s scream from the back of the house. Jane Reynolds frowned. ‘What are those boys doing now?’ she asked.
To my surprise Reynolds gave a barking laugh. ‘Something with young Judith, by the sound of it.’
Jane left the room. A moment later I heard familiar mocking tones outside the room. ‘Fucking hell, Lockswood, not you again. You’d better not have come to trouble Granfer, you prick.’
Nicholas and I glanced at each other. Barnabas and Gerald, the twins.
‘What have you been doing in the kitchen?’ The steward spoke angrily.
‘Sticking our hands up young Judith’s skirts. But she started squealing.’
‘Your grandmother asked you to leave the maids alone.’
‘Mind your business, if you don’t want your cap knocked off.’ The scarred boy, Barnabas, swaggered into the doorway. He saw us and for a moment stood still, frowning, before recovering his bravado and calling out, ‘Hey, Gerry, the hunchback and the streak of piss are back.’ Gerald came in, and looked at us threateningly.
Reynolds turned to us. ‘You have met my grandsons?’
‘They were at their father’s house in London last week.’
‘Just sniffing about,’ Barnabas said.
Reynolds turned to us. ‘I am protecting my grandchildren, they are all I have left. When their father is dead, I shall apply for their wardship.’ He smiled with real affection at the twins. ‘Find a pair of rich wenches for you to marry, eh?’
‘Not yet, Granfer. We’re having too much fun to settle down.’
Reynolds looked at me. ‘By the way, in case your thoughts were tending in that direction, my grandsons have an alibi for the night my daughter was killed. Carousing with their friends, weren’t you, lads? All drinking at John Atkinson’s house, and they stayed the night there. A dozen witnesses. The coroner had that checked.’
Gerald flexed his broad shoulders. ‘Do you want us to throw these two and Lockswood out, Granfer? It’d be a pleasure.’
Reynolds looked at us. ‘I think it is time for you to go. Now, before I let them loose on you.’
Nicholas looked fiercely at the twins. Barnabas winked at him. I touched Nicholas on the arm and led him from the room. There was nothing more to be gained here. One of the twins called after us, ‘I hear there’s gypsies in town, Master Crookback. Take care they don’t steal you for their exhibition!’ Their grandfather guffawed. I thought, He had no grief for his daughter, none at all.
Outside Toby stood with the steward. Vowell was frowning, looking towards the kitchen door, from which a faint weeping could be heard. Jane Reynolds had gone.
He opened the door for us. Nicholas and Toby and I went out. To my surprise, Vowell accompanied us outside. He glanced quickly back into the house, then took my arm and said quietly, ‘You should know, sir, my master did not tell you the full story.’
‘What do you mean?’
His face twitched with anger. ‘There is evidence he could have given, but did not. I was with him nine years ago, and I know that a few months before she disappeared Edith Boleyn came here to seek aid from her father. John Boleyn wanted more children, but she would not lie with him. Boleyn tried to force her, and beat her. She wanted her father to intervene. But you have seen what sort of household this is. He refused, and sent her on her way, saying she must settle her own affairs with her husband.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ I asked sharply.
‘Because I would have you know what sort of man Gawen Reynolds is, how what really troubles him is that he is unlikely to become mayor, after this scandal. And now the twins are here – well, soon I too may disappear.’
I nodded. ‘How did he damage his leg? Old as he is, I thought he might come at us, till I saw he was lame.’
‘Slipped in the mud in Tombland during the spring rains. I was with him at the time. He’s not been able to walk properly since. Anyway, I have had enough of this household. I thought you should know.’ And with that, he stepped back and closed the door. I went over to Nicholas and Toby. ‘What was that about?’ Nicholas asked.
I told them. ‘If Reynolds says that Edith complained to him of violence from her husband, it would damn Boleyn further.’
‘Why does he not do so?’ Toby asked. ‘He wants Boleyn hanged.’
‘Because he ignored his daughter’s appeal. If that became public, his reputation would suffer further. And that is what matters to him. Poor Edith,’ I concluded heavily. ‘What sort of life did she endure?’
THAT EVENING, I made notes of the evidence we had gathered so far. There was no doubt, it all seemed to damn John Boleyn even further. Yet still the picture of a violent, brutal husband did not, to me, accord with the man in Norwich Castle. It was time for me to write to Parry and Elizabeth. I considered whether to tell them things were looking bad, that a guilty verdict looked likely and that the application for a pardon might be needed, and that I myself was unsure of Boleyn’s guilt. However, though the trial was only a week away, there were still leads to follow. Tomorrow we would go to Brikewell. So I merely wrote to say I was investigating as thoroughly as I could, and would write again shortly. I sealed the letters, put them in a bag, and took them down to be given to tomorrow’s post-rider to London. I wondered what reception the letters would get at Hatfield. Parry, I guessed, would not be too concerned at the lack of progress, but the Lady Elizabeth was a different matter.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, another fine sunny day, Toby again joined us for breakfast punctually at six. His mother, he said, was a little better. Scarcely had he sat down than Barak appeared in the doorway. The man waiting on the breakfast tables looked askance at his arm and cheap clothing, but Barak ignored him and came to sit with us. I said, ‘You remember Toby Lockswood? He was with us when we rode in on Thursday.’
‘Ay.’ Barak shook Toby’s hand. ‘You’re the local knowledge on the case.’
‘Something like that.’
‘Ears and eyes on the ground, that’s what you need.’ Barak added approvingly.
‘Yes, and my Norwich contacts provided me with useful information yesterday evening.’ Toby turned to us. ‘I have an address for Scambler’s aunt, down in Ber Street, and have also managed to trace Josephine and Edward Brown.’
‘Josephine,’ Barak said. ‘Of course, she’s here now. How is she?’
‘Her husband works for a stonemason, she as a spinner. They have moved to a place in Conisford, south of the castle.’ He hesitated. ‘A poor area.’
I said, ‘We shall go and see her, and Scambler too, when we return from Brikewell this evening. Thank you, Toby. How did you manage to trace Josephine?’