‘Murder?’
‘Yes, indeed. Getting on for twenty years ago he was involved in a quarrel with another Norfolk landowner, and ended up knifing him in a fight in London. It was a clear case of murder, but he made an application for a pardon from the old king, and got it.’
‘As the very rich do,’ Toby said quietly.
Copuldyke went on, ‘Do not get into bad odour with him, sir. Especially as he represents Mary, and your instructions are from Elizabeth.’ His voice rose anxiously. ‘Remember that officially you are my agent. I want no trouble with Southwell.’
‘He is no man to meddle with,’ Lockswood agreed.
Copuldyke said, ‘Perhaps if John Boleyn is executed Mary will buy his lands, add them to her Norfolk estates. To spite her sister.’
I answered, ‘Yet these visits by agents of Southwell and Flowerdew seem very – previous. John Boleyn has not yet even been convicted.’
‘The common view is he will be,’ Lockswood said gravely. ‘He’s not popular, especially since marrying Isabella. Then there is the dispute with his neighbour.’
‘What can you tell me about that?’
Copuldyke bridled a little at my addressing his assistant directly rather than him. ‘Tell him, Toby,’ he said. ‘Give Serjeant Shardlake the benefit of your great knowledge of the law of property in Norfolk.’ He turned to me. ‘He’s even gone to the trouble of making a sketch map for you.’
Lockswood reddened at his master’s patronizing tone. ‘If it would help you, sir –’
‘I am sure it would.’
He produced a paper from a drawer and placed it on the desk. We leaned forward to look. It was not an exact plan, but had been carefully drawn.
‘That’s good, Lockswood,’ Nicholas said appreciatively.
The older man frowned slightly; he was half a dozen years older than Nicholas, and probably far more experienced in the law. But as a clerk his status was distinctly junior. ‘This is a map of John Boleyn’s manor, North Brikewell,’ Lockswood explained. ‘He owns other properties, as I said, but this is his largest property and his residence’ – he pointed to the top of the map – ‘is the manor house here, next to the village, which is quite small. And down here, see, the Brikewell stream. It divides the manor from South Brikewell, which is owned by his neighbour Leonard Witherington. Both manors are farmed on the usual three-field system, two fields planted with crops and the third left fallow each year, on a rotating basis. Each field is divided into strips, and each tenant holds one or more strips in each field.’
‘Serjeant Shardlake is a land lawyer, Lockswood,’ Copuldyke said heavily. ‘I imagine he and even his young assistant know how the threefield system works.’
Nicholas pointed to the fields. ‘There are quite a few larger patches among the strips. Is that where tenants have brought together several strips and enclosed them as a separate farm?’
‘Yes, that is correct.’
‘There are one or two tenants who have done the same on my father’s estate, in Lincolnshire.’
‘We have more enclosed lands, often freehold, in Norfolk than most counties. And as you will see, if you look at the bottom right, Witherington has enclosed parts of one of the common fields for sheep, opposite his own demesne land. And there is also an area of enclosed pasture which used to be part of the common pasture of South Brikewell.’
‘How did he get hold of it?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Lockswood answered. ‘Probably argued that as lord of the manor he is entitled to a share of the common pasture, proceeded to enclose it, and was able to enforce his will.’
I smiled wryly. ‘Like a Roman emperor gradually extending his territory. How many sheep has Witherington on his lands?’
‘Maybe three hundred. With the high price of wool, this shearing time he will make a tidy profit. Far more than if the land were put to crops. It is happening all over Norfolk,’ Lockswood added seriously.
Copuldyke stirred in his chair. ‘Landlords must turn a profit if they are to live like gentlemen,’ he said irritably. ‘With the rise in prices, a rent set thirty years ago will hardly provide much income.’
‘And so you get landlords enclosing tenants’ land where the leases have run out, or enclosing part of the common pasture and running it for sheep, not always in accordance with manorial custom.’ I smiled grimly.
Copuldyke waved a dismissive hand. ‘If the tenants think it has not been done correctly, they can always go to the courts.’
‘Which often takes years as well as money. While a poor farmer needs to work his land from year to year, from day to day.’
‘You sound like a Commonwealth man,’ Copuldyke said disapprovingly. ‘I’ve had to tell Lockswood here off for some of the things he comes out with.’
‘I speak only from many years’ experience in Requests.’ To avoid further argument, I turned to look at the plan again. ‘This is an unusual layout for a manor. The woodland, common pasture and waste are set between the manors, not surrounding the main fields.’
‘That is because the stream dividing the manors runs through the middle,’ Lockswood explained. ‘The land on either side gets slabby – muddy – in wet weather, though to ease the problem over the years drainage ditches have been dug along it. Over to the eastern end it is quite marshy, used as common waste from which the villagers take reeds, and wildfowl. And the west is given over to woodland.’
‘What is the X?’ Nicholas asked. ‘Is that where Mistress Boleyn was found?’
‘It is.’
I said, ‘The spot is very near the only bridge across the stream. So perhaps her killer met her at the bridge, and killed her there. Otherwise she would have had to be carried quite some distance.’
There was silence for a moment, then Copuldyke said, ‘The two estates are almost mirror images of each other.’
‘Not quite, sir,’ Lockswood ventured. ‘North Brikewell is a good bit smaller. When the Benedictine abbey that owned it was dissolved in 1538, John Boleyn and Leonard Witherington were local men looking to expand their properties, and each bought one manor. There was only one manor house there originally, for the monks’ steward, the one which John Boleyn bought. Leonard Witherington built his own house there, as you see. Like John Boleyn he owns other lands, and he is the wealthier of the two.’
I looked again at the map. ‘I see Richard Southwell has land to the north, and also to the east.’
‘Yes,’ Copuldyke interjected. ‘And runs sheep on both manors. If John Boleyn is found guilty Southwell may wish to buy North Brikewell, link his lands together. The bigger the sheep run, the greater the profits. He might not even need an extra shepherd.’
Nicholas said, ‘He’d have to get the existing tenants off the land.’
Copuldyke waved a hand. ‘That is future conjecture, and not our business.’
‘What is the average size of a tenant’s holding?’ I asked.
‘Small, ten to fifteen acres,’ Lockswood answered. ‘Some have larger holdings, like the tenants who have managed to enclose their lands, but at the other end of the scale there are many small cottagers who supplement their income by hiring themselves out as labourers or craftsmen to make ends meet. But with both Boleyn’s and Witherington’s areas of demesne land, which was once farmed, being put to sheep, there is less demand for labour. There are around twenty-five families in North Brikewell, somewhat over thirty in South Brikewell.’