‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you should not stay tonight. With Barak we can manage the twins.’
He sighed. ‘There is little I can do, at home or on the farm, save cut down the thistles and watch the crops swelk in the heat. It’s going to be another stonging day. Let’s beard the locksmith in his den before the sun gets too high.’
WE WALKED THE short distance to Snockstobe’s shop. I hoped the sight of the warrant would loosen his tongue. The shop was open, but only young Walter stood behind the counter. He looked at us apprehensively.
I held up the warrant. ‘Master Snockstobe?’ I asked peremptorily.
‘He aren’t in yet. I don’t know what to do, there’s a man coming at nine for some keys, and I don’t know where they are.’ He looked despairingly at the rows of keys behind him, each marked with a number. ‘Master hasn’t put them in the book.’
‘Is he often late?’ I asked sharply.
The boy hesitated. ‘Please don’t tell him I said, but since his wife left him last year he spends most evenings bezzling in the inns. Sometimes he comes in late. But he doesn’t miss appointments.’
I nodded and said, ‘We will return in an hour. Tell your master we have the warrant, and that if he has anything to tell us about Boleyn’s keys he had better do it then.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Walter said unhappily. We turned and walked out.
‘God’s death,’ I said as we made our way back into Tombland. ‘Will nothing go smoothly?’
‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Nicholas said. His tone was frosty; he was still angry over my remarks about Beatrice.
I said, ‘If we’ve got an hour, I suggest we take a look at the Assizes. They’ll be opening soon.’
We set off through the morning heat for the castle.
THE SHIRE HALL was a large building with Gothic towers just north-east of the castle, made of the same white stone. A few people stood talking outside the doors, gentlemen by their dress, and I saw Sir Richard Southwell, conferring with a couple of others. He wore his usual haughty, disdainful expression. Catching sight of me, he gave me a brief, unsmiling nod. So he remembered our brief meeting at St Paul’s; but then he struck me as a man who would forget nobody. I remembered Toby saying the twins and some of their young gentlemen friends had done dirty work for him on occasion.
Inside, we passed through a small antechamber into a large courtroom with a high, vaulted roof, the judges’ table on a dais covered with heavy green cloth. I looked at the wooden dock, set on high steps to the left of the courtroom. Black-robed officials had already taken their places at benches before the judges’ table, and more were bringing in papers. Soldiers in royal livery stood guard at the doors and round the walls. Many people, mostly gentry, by their fine clothes, were already sitting on the benches facing the judges; others stood talking. A tall figure detached himself from a group and came over to us. ‘Serjeant Shardlake? Come to see the opening?’
‘Serjeant Flowerdew. God give you good morrow. Yes, indeed.’
Flowerdew seemed in a better mood this morning. ‘I imagine they will start with dressing down the JPs and city officials over lack of enforcement of the proclamations. How goes the Boleyn case?’
‘There have been some interesting developments,’ I answered neutrally.
He looked at me narrowly. ‘Have you found something that may help Boleyn?’
‘One always hopes for justice.’
‘Indeed.’
The bailiff entered and called for silence. Everyone moved quickly to the benches as Judges Reynberd and Gatchet entered the court. Reynberd wore a haughty expression on his plump face, Gatchet looked severe as ever. They sat. Reynberd, the senior judge, nodded to Gatchet. He leaned forward on the bench, bony hands clasped together.
‘In the name of our Sovereign Lord King Edward the Sixth, I declare the Norwich Summer Assizes open. We have much business, but I shall begin by telling you of our just anger, on behalf of the King and the Protector, at the lack of proper enforcement of the laws and proclamations. The returns for the sheep tax are late and inadequate. Unauthorized preaching by self-styled prophets and rabble-rousers continues; godless pamphlets are found in the streets and pinned to doors.’ He banged a fist hard on the table. ‘Though the justices and constables have been lax in finding and punishing the authors of these activities. I remind you, gentlemen, of the words of Master Calvin, who is much favoured by the King, that the common people must be kept on a short bridle. Which brings me to the unrest, the resistance to the law and the right order, which have recently been seen in southern as well as western parts. They must not spread here. Stirrers of trouble must be sought out and dealt with, as they were in the spring commotions. Now, though, the Protector is arranging for commissions to look into illegal enclosures to travel the country, and they will see to it that any injustices are remedied. That is enough! So get to your duties, get your informers working. And I tell you we intend the strictest justice to be done on the criminal matters coming before this Assizes. Those found guilty will be publicly hanged in the market square on Saturday, and the executioner has been instructed that all those sentenced will be given the short drop, so their slow strangling may be a lesson to the populace. And nobody will be allowed to approach the guilty and pull their legs to break their necks.’
‘When are the commissioners coming?’ someone shouted from the well of the court. ‘We hear no word of them!’
Gatchet went puce. He pointed to the interrupter, a young man in a fine doublet with a fierce, angry face. ‘Arrest that man! He is in contempt of court!’ Two soldiers hurried across, hauled him from his place, and led him from the room. Gatchet shouted after him, ‘Contempt of this court will be severely punished. You’ll lose your ears for this!’
Such a penalty could not be imposed for such a minor offence, but nonetheless the court stirred uneasily. Gatchet leaned back, and Reynberd sat up. ‘I hope you have all taken note of the learned judge’s words.’ He shifted the papers on the bench with his plump hands. ‘And now, we shall proceed to the first civil case. In the matter of the will of the late Gerald Carberry –’
I said to Nicholas, ‘A disputed will. I’ve had enough of those, come on.’ We bowed to the court, and went out.
WE WALKED BACK to Snockstobe’s shop. ‘The short drop,’ Nicholas said. ‘The condemned will strangle slowly, rather than breaking their necks.’
‘They mean to make a harsh example.’
‘The judges in the red robes of blood indeed,’ Toby said quietly.
We had come to the top of the marketplace; beside the gallows that already stood next to the Guildhall carpenters were working, digging holes in the cobbles. Newly carved posts of various sizes lay on the ground beside them. They were preparing for a multiple hanging. A little knot of poorly dressed people stood watching. As we passed I heard snatches of conversation.
‘– he was in the water right under Bishopsgate Bridge. A boatman coming up the river found him stuck in the waterweed.’
‘Must’ve fallen off. Draahnin’, that’s a bad way to go –’
‘He was always bezzled by nine. Don’t know how he kept the shop going –’
‘He was a good locksmith though.’
I stopped dead, and turned to the group. ‘A locksmith has drowned?’ I asked.
They looked at me suspiciously. ‘Ay, master. What of it?’
‘What was his name?’
‘Richard Snockstobe. Found dead in the Wensum this morning.’
‘We must go there. Now.’ For a moment I felt quite faint, and leaned on Nicholas’s arm. The nearest to a key witness we had tracked down, and yet he had been found dead the day we were due to serve the subpoena on him.