Nicholas nodded, then followed Barak down the sunlit path. I began walking to the main door of the castle.
Isabella was with Boleyn in his cell. She had preferred to go there instead of back to the inn with Chawry. They sat side by side on the bed, holding hands. When the gaoler let me in, they looked up with faces filled with hope and fear.
I smiled. ‘The execution is stayed pending the application for the pardon. Reynberd agreed, and the document is being drawn up.’ Their faces sagged with relief and they hugged each other.
‘Thank you, Master Shardlake,’ Boleyn said in heartfelt tones. ‘I thought I was done for, especially when I lost my temper with that judge.’
Isabella defended him. ‘But it wasn’t right, attacking us for living together as he did. It had nothing to do with the case.’
‘You are right, but judges on Assize like to read a moral lesson. Especially ones like Gatchet.’ I looked at Boleyn. ‘It did not help to show such a temper.’
‘I was provoked beyond endurance.’
‘Well, apart from that, you did well. I’m only sorry the twins could not be shaken about the key, and that Scambler made an exhibition of himself.’
Isabella smiled. ‘Poor Simon.’ She was the only person apart from me who had referred to him by his true name.
A despairing wail became faintly audible through the thick walls. One of those sentenced to hang on the morrow. Boleyn shook his head. ‘It was dreadful, sitting with those other people, listening to their cases. Three were found guilty of theft and will be executed. How Gatchet hurried through their cases, condemned them as sinful though they were poor people without work. I have always taken such things as natural but’ – he shook his head – ‘how they stank; some have been months in this place. And I was found guilty too, but am saved because of my connection to the Lady Elizabeth.’
Isabella took his arm. ‘But you are innocent, my love.’
I looked at him seriously. ‘I am afraid you may be here some time. Palms will have to be greased at the royal court, and getting the Protector to deal with the pardon may take time. And the outcome is not a certainty. But I have great hope.’ I thought, I will ask Parry to write to William Cecil.
Boleyn looked downcast, but Isabella said encouragingly, ‘I can visit you, bring food – can I not, Master Shardlake? And Daniel will take care of the farm.’
‘Yes, your treatment should be less severe now.’
Boleyn looked at Isabella. ‘You will need more money if I am to be here for a very long time. My finances are not – what they were.’ He looked into space gloomily for a moment. ‘I think it is time for Midnight to be sold. Chawry can handle him now, you said?’
‘Just about, if he is careful. But you will want to ride Midnight when you return –’
Boleyn shook his head. ‘I shall never return to Brikewell. Even if I am pardoned, the disgrace will remain. And –’ he sighed – ‘I am not sure I want to. Do you, my dear?’
She considered. ‘No, not after all that has been done to us.’
‘We could move to London perhaps.’
‘But you said the house there was too expensive to keep up.’
‘Then we shall sell it, and, yes, the Brikewell estate and my other lands, pay off my debts and buy somewhere smaller in London, or elsewhere, if you prefer. We shall live quietly as modest gentlefolk.’
Isabella sighed. ‘Married again, in a place where nobody knows our history. Yes, that I should like.’
Boleyn looked at me. ‘I imagine I will not be able to buy or sell any land until the pardon is granted?’
‘No. For the moment you are in a sort of legal limbo. Legally, you should not even sell the horse.’
Boleyn laid a hand on Isabella’s and smiled gently. ‘Have Midnight sold quickly and quietly, for next to nothing if need be. When he is gone, go to the back of the stable. Count four bricks up from the floor and twelve along from the right. Remove the bricks and mortar and you will find the twenty sovereigns. Nobody knows that but Master Shardlake.’
He sighed. ‘I shall miss Midnight. I got him as a yearling, Master Shardlake; he was hard to control even then, but by good treatment I managed it. But now he must go.’
Isabella touched his cheek. ‘You are good to me.’
‘I have brought you naught but trouble.’
I said, ‘Well, we have a good chance now. I will fetch the order cancelling the execution tomorrow morning. I shall visit you again then.’
‘You will return to London soon?’ Isabella asked, sadness in her voice.
‘Yes, but I shall keep closely in touch by letter. Now, I must go and prepare a letter to the Lady Elizabeth, ready to send to her with the judge’s order tomorrow morning.’ I looked at Boleyn. ‘I am sorry you lost the case, but it was always going to be difficult.’ I paused, then said, ‘An alibi for the evening of Edith’s murder might well have decided things the other way.’ Isabella looked between us, frowning slightly. Boleyn only said, ‘That is all done with now.’ But I caught the note of tetchiness in his voice.
