‘Thank you. That’s all. I will leave you to your sheep.’ The steward nodded, and Kempsley scuttled from the room. Witherington looked at Shuckborough, then at us. ‘There is one more person I should like you to meet.’ He nodded at Shuckborough, who went out, returning a moment later leading a young man by the arm. He was no more than twenty, tall and athletically built, with tangled brown hair and a scraggy beard. His expression was curiously vacant, and a dribble of saliva ran from a corner of his mouth.
Witherington said, ‘This is Ralph, who works my lands with his father and brothers. They are my serfs. Last April, he was one of those I sent to stake my claim to the lands Boleyn says are his.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Ralph was a good strong lad, said he’d give a good account of himself. You couldn’t do that now, could you, Ralph?’
The boy stared at him. ‘I – am – Ralph,’ he said slowly. Then he smiled and said, ‘I know a rhyme. Ring-a-ring-o-roses—’
‘Shut up.’ Shuckborough shook his arm. Ralph fell silent. Witherington said, ‘Show the gentlemen your head, Ralph.’
‘Don’t want to,’ the boy said, then squealed as Shuckborough pushed him down roughly, so that we could see the top of his head. I recoiled. On the crown was a large bald patch with scarring and an actual depression in the skull where he had been hit with something heavy.
‘Not a pretty sight, is he, Master Shardlake?’ Witherington said. ‘Gerald Boleyn did that to him, when they led some of their friends and Boleyn’s men to throw my men off the land. You’d expect a bit of punching, perhaps a couple of broken bones in such a tussle, but the Boleyn twins each had a great club and the one without the scar hit Ralph over the head with it. Amazing he wasn’t killed; as it is, his wits are gone.’ He waved a hand. ‘Take him away, Shuckborough, before he starts blubbing.’
As the steward took the boy out, Nicholas said, ‘If there were witnesses, surely Gerald Boleyn should have been prosecuted. He could hang for that.’
Witherington shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘I didn’t want that. Not when my men had been on what Boleyn claims is his land. Ralph’s family are taking care of him, I give them some money.’ He looked at me. ‘But I warn you, Master Shardlake. I make sure my house is well guarded, especially at night. Master Boleyn may be one kind of man, but those sons of his are something else.’
Chapter Eighteen
We arrived back at Tombland late in the afternoon. During our ride from Brikewell the sky had gradually turned darker, ‘greasy’, as Toby called it. It looked as though a thunderstorm was coming. Outside the Maid’s Head I saw, lying inside an alcove in the outside wall, a man covered in a large, ragged blanket. A little trail of vomit spilled from beneath the blanket onto the street; he was either drunk, or ill. People passing, especially those of the richer sort riding into the Maid’s Head courtyard, gave him looks of disgust.
After leaving the horses, Barak and Nicholas were keen to go on to see Scambler, and I wanted to visit Josephine, but I had pulled a muscle in my back on the ride home, and could not face going out again. I said I needed an early night, and suggested we take dinner soon, so that Toby could return to his farm.
The place was busy with new arrivals, servants carrying heavy baggage upstairs, the innkeeper Master Theobald directing them with a self-important air. All the newcomers wore fine clothes, and some lawyers’ black robes like ours, though I saw nobody I recognized. ‘People coming for the Assizes,’ Barak observed.
‘Ay,’ Toby agreed. ‘All the Justices of the Peace and royal and county officials will be gathering.’
‘Will we see Sir Richard Southwell, or John Flowerdew?’
‘Yes, they’ll be here,’ Toby said. ‘I’ll point them out.’
‘I’ve met Southwell briefly. He seems a formidable man.’
‘He’s a brute,’ Toby answered, ‘and the greediest man in Norfolk.’
THE FOUR OF us sat down to dinner. Candles were lit, for the evening sky continued to darken, and we heard the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Quietly, we discussed the case.
Nicholas said, ‘Isabella clearly loves Boleyn. I think Chawry likes her, but who would not?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I think he does.’ I pondered. ‘When she said she wouldn’t give Boleyn a child until they were married, it certainly doesn’t sound as though he tried to force her.’
‘Witherington’s a different matter from his neighbour,’ Barak observed.
‘Yes, a grasping bully.’
Toby said, ‘Already he’s got land that once supported dozens of villagers, which is worked now by one old shepherd, and he can’t even treat him decently. So much for all the old nonsense about ties of honour and loyalty between landlord and tenant.’
Nicholas said, ‘I agree with you about Witherington, but there are honourable men among the landowners, too, who recognize their obligations.’
‘When it’s a matter of making a profit, they’re all the same. Bully, threaten, steal, enclose.’
‘How strong do you think Witherington’s case is over the boundary issue?’ Barak looked at me, changing the subject, then speared a piece of meat from his plate with the knife on his metal hand.
‘From the old deeds and the map we took from Boleyn’s London house, pretty weak. I think it was because he knows his case was poor that he tried that bit of self-help in the spring.’
Nicholas asked, ‘But would he go as far as setting up John Boleyn for his wife’s murder?’
‘What if he’s in debt?’ Barak suggested. ‘That can make men desperate.’
Toby shook his head. ‘I went into that for Master Copuldyke. Boleyn’s finances may be in a poor state, but Witherington’s aren’t. Greedy snudge that he is, he knows how to turn a profit.’
‘He didn’t strike me as especially sharp,’ Barak observed.
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Witherington struck me as stupid and obstinate. You could argue such a man might be so stupid that he would think he could get away with murder, but I can’t see him facing a capital sentence over a small piece of land. Though we can’t entirely discount the possibility.’
Nicholas sighed. ‘So we’re no further forward. Except that Isabella, and Chawry who has no alibi, must be added to the list of suspects.’
‘Except for what we saw at the scene of the crime,’ I said. ‘The killer was local, knew the area well. And if it was one man, he was very strong.’
‘Or two other people acting together,’ Barak replied.
I said, ‘Remember the twins have an alibi for the whole night in question. Carousing with a group of friends.’
Nicholas considered. ‘Friends can be intimidated. Those two would be good at that.’
I winced at a twinge from my back. ‘I wish I could see a way through this tangle.’ I looked at Toby. ‘Could you try and trace Grace Bone’s family, see if anyone has heard of her in all these years? That has to be followed up.’ I considered. ‘And we should talk to those twins about their alibi.’
Nicholas said, ‘They’ll not do that willingly.’
‘We need to get them off their own ground,’ Barak said. ‘Four of us to two of them.’
I nodded. ‘Yes. But it needs thought.’
‘They’re dangerous,’ Toby said warningly.
‘Come on, they’re just a couple of lads,’ Barak said impatiently.
Outside, the thunder rolled nearer.
DURING THE NIGHT the storm came, and I was wakened by a great crash of thunder and white flashes of lightning that lit up the room, followed by the sound of torrential rain. I wondered about the poor man lying in the alcove outside.
By morning, the storm had passed, and the air was fresher. Toby, Nicholas and I had arranged to meet Barak for breakfast at eight. None of us had expressed a wish to go to church; I suspected that Toby’s commitment to religion was as distant as that of Barak, Nicholas and I. Yesterday, Barak had said he particularly wanted to see Josephine again, but I saw he had also become caught up in the thrill of the chase. From tomorrow, Monday, he would be busy with Assize duties, which eased my conscience a little. I dared not imagine how Tamasin might react if she discovered that her husband had ended up assisting me again.