‘Do you know their grandfather, Master Gawen Reynolds? I met him yesterday. A choleric old man.’
‘I have never seen him. He would have nothing to do with me, though the twins visited him often. Birds of a feather, I think.’
‘He seems to indulge them.’
She shrugged. ‘Let him. I will be happy never to see them again.’
I said, ‘There is one other, very important matter. According to your deposition, on the night of Edith’s murder your husband told you he was going to look at some documents in his study, and asked not to be disturbed. For two hours you did not actually see him.’
‘Yes. He has a quarrel, as you will know, with his neighbour, Witherington. Poor John, always people conspire to make his life difficult.’
‘Those missing two hours are very important.’
Isabella frowned. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? When John was first arrested and I went to see him in prison, I offered to say I had gone to his study during those hours and spoken to him. But he would not let me, he said it would be perjury and if I were discovered, I would be in trouble. You see, Master Shardlake, what a devoted husband John is.’
‘And what a devoted wife you are.’ I said softly. ‘Nicholas, make no record of what Mistress Boleyn just said about perjury.’
‘I heard her say nothing about that.’ He smiled, and Isabella smiled faintly in return.
‘Where do you think he was those two hours?’ I asked.
Isabella looked at me hard. ‘In his study.’
I asked, ‘Will you alone be giving evidence in your husband’s favour at the trial?’
Isabella set her mouth firmly. ‘Yes. I shall say he was the best of husbands, and that I cannot believe he murdered Edith.’
‘One final question. Have you any idea who could have killed her?’
She shook her head. ‘Believe me, I have thought and thought on it but I can find no answer. Leonard Witherington wants part of our land, but surely not enough to put himself under suspicion of murder.’
‘And the twins?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Bad as they are, I believe that those boys loved their mother.’
‘They seem to show no sorrow at her death.’
‘That is their way. They would think it weak.’
‘I see.’ I smiled at her. ‘Finally, let me give you a little advice. I admire the forthright way in which you have answered me. But in court you should be – perhaps a little more humble in manner, a little more subdued. And do not be afraid to be tearful. A tearful woman can make a jury sympathetic.’
‘You think me too bold? Believe me, facing people down has been my lot these last nine years.’
‘I understand, Mistress Boleyn. But remember, the jury.’
‘I will. And when I come to think of what will happen to my husband if he is found guilty, the tears will come soon enough.’ She bowed her head, then looked up. ‘Find the murderer, please. For the sake of my husband, and that poor wretched Edith.’
Chapter Sixteen
I told Isabella that I was going next to visit the scene of the murder, and asked if Chawry might accompany us. She agreed readily, and went to find him. Nicholas and I returned to the hall, and brought Barak and Toby, who were chatting amiably, up to date.
‘She is a woman of courage and spirit,’ I said. ‘And obviously devoted to her husband.’
‘A little too bold for her own good,’ Toby said. ‘I’ve heard she can be as fierce as any fine lady in dealing with complaints from the tenants. The jury may think her a hussy.’
‘I have advised her to be humble. And I do not forget she had as good a motive as her husband to get rid of Edith, but not for displaying her body like that.’
Nicholas asked, ‘Did you notice the look Chawry gave her?’
‘I did. But she seemed not to.’
‘If Boleyn hangs, it would be an opening for him. Then he, too, may have a motive.’
I sighed. So far, my visit to Brikewell had produced only another suspect.
Chawry appeared, and said he would take us to the stream forming the boundary between the Boleyn and Witherington parishes, where Edith was murdered. He had brought three pairs of heavy working boots. ‘It’s very gulshy by the stream,’ he said.
‘Muddy,’ Toby explained.
I looked at the boots. They were all heavy, large in size. ‘They belong to the twins and Master Boleyn,’ Chawry explained. ‘The pair found in the stable were taken as evidence.’
We thanked him, put on the boots, and he led us out of the house.
WE WALKED DOWN the path through the middle of the Brikewell estate, ploughed fields on either side of us.
‘Your mistress is very loyal to her husband,’ I said to Chawry.
‘She is a fine woman,’ he answered stoutly, ‘and a good mistress.’
‘Do you believe Master Boleyn to be innocent?’
‘I do. I have worked for him these five years past. He gets frampled sometimes, I mean he is a worrier, but a good master. I think all he has ever wanted is a quiet life.’
‘Do you live at the manor house?’
‘No, I have my own cottage a little way off.’
‘Ah,’ I said with apparent lightness. ‘Enough space to bring up a family?’
‘No, I am not wed yet.’
‘Did you hear anything on the night of the murder?’
‘No.’ His mouth set. ‘I have no alibi, if that is what you mean.’
I saw that most fields were divided into strips, but in one place several acres had been consolidated into larger fields, and a modest stone house built next to the road. Chawry looked at it and grunted. ‘Yeoman Charlesworth’s land. He exchanged his strips with those of other tenants, bought some others. One of those new-risen peasants who pays to send his children to school.’
I said, ‘As my father did me. He was a yeoman, too, in the Midlands.’
Chawry looked embarrassed, and I saw Barak and Toby exchange a wink. I noticed that the people in the fields had stopped working, and, leaning on their implements, were staring at us.
‘We’ll be out of their sight soon,’ Chawry said. ‘Nosy knaves.’
A little further on, the fields ended, divided by a fence from an area of common pasture on both sides of the path. A few sheep grazed there, but many more bullocks and cows. Away to the right, beyond a pond, was some woodland, while to the left lay a marshy, reedy area dotted with trees. The sun blazed down; it was hotter today.
Toby halted, leaning over the fence, and looked at me. ‘The commons, Master Shardlake. Which the landowners seek to enclose in many places. Each of those cows belongs to one villager, and provides a family with milk. The bullocks and horses pull their ploughs. The woodland provides timber, and foraging for the pigs in season. The marsh provides reeds, and waterfowl for the pot. Without the common land, no village can survive.’
Chawry said, ‘True, though some villages have more commons than they need. Here it is Master Witherington who seeks to enclose his lands for sheep, and to make up the difference by taking some of my master’s land.’
‘Isn’t common land protected by the customs of the manor?’ Barak asked.
‘Ay,’ Toby retorted. ‘But who runs the court, and keeps the books of record? The lord of the manor.’
Chawry turned on him. ‘You sound like one of these radical Commonwealth men, Goodman. If you want to find a bad landlord, look to Master Witherington.’
I said, ‘Goodman Chawry, do you see over there, a narrow strip through the commons where the grass is darker – is that the course of the old stream, which Witherington claims for the boundary?’
‘Ay, it is,’ Chawry said. ‘No water flows there now, though the old watercourse fills in when it rains.’
‘And down there, a third of a mile off, I see a stream, and a bridge.’
‘That marks the boundary. Where poor Edith Boleyn’s body was found.’
‘Then let us go there, and see.’
We walked on, to where a bridge of wooden planks crossed a stream, the boundary with Witherington’s land. On his side there was farmland to the left, sheep pasture enclosed by hurdles to the right. Further down we could see a village, and the church. Chawry said, ‘In some places, the local priest might have been asked to intervene in a quarrel, but the man here is weak, uneducated, and keeps out of things.’ He grunted. ‘Favours the old ways, and keeps quiet.’
We stood on the bridge, looking down at the little stream flowing slowly between its muddy banks, overhung by the occasional willow. Chawry took a deep breath. ‘You wish to see the place the body was found?’
‘Please.’
We returned to Boleyn’s side of the stream, and went through a gate into the pastureland. Chawry followed the stream for about fifty yards, then stopped, looking down the muddy bank. ‘It was just there, by that young willow. I was called out when the old shepherd discovered her. It was an awful sight, that naked body sticking up for all to see: when they pulled it out the head was all pashed in. The top fell to pieces, dropping her brains in the water.’
I stepped down into the mud, glad of the boots. Each step released stinking bubbles. Nicholas followed, extending a hand to aid Barak, who found it hard to balance because of his arm. Chawry and Toby stayed on the bank. Chawry called down, ‘Be careful, it sucks at your feet; you have to slod through carefully.’
‘Easy enough to get a body in the water, if you’re strong enough,’ Barak said. ‘Just need to hold it by the middle and drop it in.’
I looked back at the bridge, measuring the distance. ‘But carrying it here, and then through this mud, would be hard. Even if we assume Edith was bludgeoned and killed at the bridge – and it’s an obvious place for people to arrange to meet – the killer then had to carry the body here, and in total darkness. It would take a very strong man, and one who knew the ground, to do that.’
Nicholas nodded agreement. ‘I doubt I could do it.’ He looked at me. ‘Perhaps there were two of them.’
‘That’s a possibility,’ Barak agreed.
For a moment, we stood in silence in the mud, looking at the gently flowing water, a peaceful place now.
‘We agree it would be difficult for one man to carry Edith here,’ I said. ‘Yet surely a madman acting out some hideous fantasy would act alone.’
‘Or two brutal madmen who always act together,’ Nicholas said quietly.
I looked at him. ‘Gerald and Barnabas?’
‘Their mother could have contacted them, arranged to meet them here.’
‘Yet everyone has said they loved her, however they behave towards everyone else.’ I bit my lip and stared over the fields and meadows. ‘So many possibilities.’
We heaved ourselves out of the mud and returned to the path. Chawry was stroking his red beard. I said, ‘I am grateful to you, Master Steward, for showing us this place. One more question, if I may. Have there been any other murders, or disappearances, in this area in the last few years?’
He shook his head, looking puzzled. ‘None. This is a quiet place – apart from the ruffle with Witherington’s tenants a few months ago.’
‘I just wondered,’ I said lightly. I was thinking of the maid Grace Bone, who had disappeared as completely as Edith, just before her.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
I said, ‘That ruffle, I understand the twins were there, and there was some violence on both sides. Did Master Boleyn ask you to organize matters on your side?’
Chawry’s brown eyes glinted and he frowned slightly. ‘It was Witherington who tried to occupy our land forcibly. I had a paid informer among his tenants, so we were ready for them when they came. Master Boleyn asked me to organize matters and, yes, it was my idea to bring in the twins. Despite their bad relationship with their father, they are always keen on any sort of trouble. They are part of a little band of young gentlemen who hire themselves out when there are quarrels between landlords, or between landlords and tenants. If things got rough, blame Witherington.’
‘Did Master Boleyn know the twins were coming?’
His eyes glinted again. ‘I thought it better not to tell him. I contacted them through their grandfather.’
‘Probably best,’ I said. I thought, There was a streak of ruthlessness in this man. ‘Thank you for your help. I think you should return to your mistress now. We shall go on to South Brikewell and see if we can talk to Master Witherington.’
Chawry inclined his head. ‘Be careful, sir. Witherington can be a brute.’
As we crossed the bridge I looked back. Chawry was standing on the path, staring at us. Then, ahead of us, we heard cries and shouts, voices raised in anger. On Witherington’s lands, something was happening.