‘Possibly.’
Boleyn paced the room. ‘When Warwick’s army wins, which it will, do you think Southwell and the Lady Mary may get into trouble? After all, she has sat at Kenninghall throughout the rebellion, when she could have fled.’
‘I doubt it. Her political importance as heir is only increased now by France declaring war on us – the Protector needs the support of the Holy Roman Emperor all the more, and he is Mary’s relative.’
Boleyn looked at me. ‘And you – you have been in the camp since the beginning, could you be in difficulty if the rebels lose?’
I sighed. ‘I have tried to be a moderating force. If there is trouble, I must rely on the Lady Elizabeth.’ I looked at him directly. ‘It would help me even now if I could discover who killed Edith that night. It is a pity you did not have a full alibi.’
Anger flashed in Boleyn’s eyes. ‘I have said a thousand times, I never left my study.’
There was silence for a moment. Then Isabella laughed nervously and said, ‘John, let us tell them our news.’
His face lightened instantly, and he grasped her hand. ‘Isabella tells me that, at last, she is pregnant. Three months gone. Now perhaps I may have a son who is not a monster. She has known for several weeks, but did not wish to tell me till we were together again.’
I calculated quickly. Three months ago was May, so she could have conceived just before her husband’s arrest, but if she had conceived after John Boleyn had been imprisoned, he could not be the father. Had she had some relationship with Chawry after all? Yet everything she had said and done indicated otherwise. I looked at her; she smiled at me tentatively. I said, ‘My sincerest congratulations to you both.’ Then she came forward and took my hand. ‘Go to London today, Master Shardlake, while you can. We thank you most heartily for all you have done.’
‘Yes,’ John Boleyn agreed gruffly. ‘May we meet again in happier times.’
Isabella took Nicholas’s hand in turn. ‘And you, young Master Overton, take care of yourself. Find a pretty young woman with a strong and honest spirit, I think that is what you need.’
‘If I can find one as beautiful as you, madam, I shall be well pleased,’ Nicholas said chivalrously. Isabella curtsied to us. We both bowed to her, then shook John Boleyn’s hand and knocked for the guard. He let us out, then shut and locked the door behind us. I thought, It will be a long time before I see John Boleyn again. I could not have been more wrong.
When I returned to camp late that afternoon the mood seemed to have hardened; men went about their duties with grim determination. When Barak returned for dinner he told us about the defensive fortifications being set up at the northern edge of the camp, at the place called Dussindale. ‘There’s tons of equipment gone up there. Captain Gunner Miles is supervising; by Jesu, he knows what he’s doing.’ He added in a lower voice, ‘If it comes, we could win after all, especially if we soften them up first in the city.’ He turned to Nicholas. ‘I’m sorry, lad, for trying to make you leave in my place when I thought of deserting. I’d no right, not when I couldn’t do it myself.’
Nicholas smiled and nodded. ‘I know you were in a hard place.’
‘And you’re staying?’
‘I’m going to wait and see what happens next.’
Natty, who had heard the exchange, turned his face – one side now a mass of bruises, thanks to Lockswood – to look at him. ‘Victory,’ he said firmly, ‘that’s what happens next.’
‘Ay, we’ll show them,’ Simon agreed.
I looked around the little Swardeston camp, empty of its women now. We had gristly beef for dinner, undercooked by the men. I thought of Goody Everneke and the other women, now trailing home, and hoped fervently they would be safe. I did not pray, for that part of me which had briefly opened up when I had taken Communion had closed again – like most here I could only focus now on our survival.
NEXT MORNING , THE twenty-fourth of August – another of the rare warm days that month – I had taken up my favourite position on the crest of the hill, looking down on Norwich, along with several others. There was, however, nothing to see – if Warwick’s army was approaching from Intwood, there was no sign of it yet. A messenger rode up the hill, spurring his horse to make speed. He dismounted and ran straight to St Michael’s Chapel. A quarter of an hour later Kett himself emerged, his face set and anxious. He stood looking down on Norwich a moment then, seeing me, beckoned me over. He gave me a searching look.
‘Master Shardlake. Tell me what you think of this. That man was my spy in Warwick’s camp.’ He was silent a moment. ‘He tells me Warwick’s army is well armed and commanded. They are only waiting for the Switzer mercenaries to arrive.’
‘And they will try to take Norwich?’
