‘That we cannot,’ I answered firmly. ‘If we are to investigate this matter thoroughly, we have to interview everyone who was potentially involved. You say he was the only one apart from you with a key to the stables. When he left you, where did he go?’
Boleyn shrugged, irritated now. ‘I don’t know. I believe he has an aunt around Ber Street. His parents are dead. Someone will direct you easily enough, Sooty Scambler is well known in Norwich. But you will be wasting your time.’
‘The key to your defence is finding out who put those things in the stable,’ I said determinedly. ‘I need all the information I can get. I shall spend this week finding it.’
‘Serjeant Shardlake has a great reputation for discovering murderers,’ Nicholas stated proudly.
Boleyn looked at me. Clearly he did not believe it. ‘Well, anyway, I thank you,’ he said.
‘Now,’ I continued. ‘What of others with a possible motive? I am afraid I must consider Isabella, and your sons.’
Boleyn spoke slowly and patiently, but with a deep underlying anger. ‘Isabella, like me, obviously had a motive for killing Edith. But none whatever for leaving her body on gruesome public display, which could only throw suspicion on us.’
‘I agree. And that is the strongest card you have. By the way, was Isabella questioned?’
‘Yes. And convinced the coroner she had nothing to do with the murder.’
‘No deposition was taken from her. Nor from Gerald and Barnabas. What if they had discovered that their mother, whom they had no reason to love, had returned to Norfolk?’
Boleyn looked me in the eye. ‘I know my sons are ruffianly brutes. But they did not do this.’
Toby said, ‘Master Shardlake met them. At your house in London.’
Boleyn looked surprised. ‘What were they doing there?’
‘I fear they had come to see what they could steal.’
Boleyn grunted. ‘They have no love for me. I have always known that. And yet – after their mother left, both of them, believe it or not, were full of sorrow. They cried for weeks. I do believe that in their way they loved her.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘I am their father, but my eyes are not closed to what they are like. Yet I cannot believe they did this.’ He sighed again. I could see he had had enough, yet we had little time, so I pressed on.
‘That leaves your neighbour, Leonard Witherington. You and he had a quarrel over the boundary between your lands. If you were found guilty and the lands were to be forfeited to the King, he could buy them.’
Boleyn laughed bitterly. ‘He’d have to contest that with Sir Richard Southwell, whose land adjoins ours on two sides. He’d lose that battle. No, it’s the boundary Witherington wants changed.’
‘Have you had any trouble with Southwell?’
‘I’m too small a fish for him to bother with. It’s Witherington; he sees changing the boundary as a way to stop his peasants protesting about his taking their land for sheep, he would use the extra land as common land or waste for them. But my own peasants would make trouble then.’
‘I gather there has been a confrontation already.’
‘Yes. In March. Witherington’s steward got some of his tenants together to try and enter my land forcibly. I heard about it in advance from one of Witherington’s men who was in my pay, and got my own steward, Chawry, to gather some of my people to throw him off, including my sons. I knew they would enjoy a bit of trouble. They brought some friends, and acquitted themselves well in that little ruffle, broke the head of one of Witherington’s tenants for him. The man’s been in a daze ever since. And that old bastard Witherington will have to think again.’
Toby said, ‘No doubt the injured man was only trying to protect his livelihood, even if Witherington was making use of him.’
Boleyn looked at Toby, and for the first time I saw in his eyes the fierce superiority of the lord of the manor. ‘If peasants start making trouble for their superiors, or their superiors’ neighbours, they deserve all they get. Anyway, Witherington threatens to go to law now, but I doubt he will.’
I said, ‘I understand you have other lands in the county, Master Boleyn.’
He shrugged. ‘Other manors some way off. I would like to turn them over to sheep. It’s the only way a gentleman can make a profit these days, with the rise in prices killing rents. But there are a lot of freehold farms I cannot touch and my bailiffs there tell me the tenants are prepared to go to law.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t face the costs and trouble of that, on top of Witherington.’
‘Your house in London must be expensive,’ I said.
‘Too expensive, if that’s what you’re getting at. I thought I could afford it, and planned to go and live there with Isabella, away from these infernal disapproving neighbours. Though I’d never sell Brikewell; my family came from near there.’
‘There is one more thing I must ask you about, Master Boleyn,’ I said quietly.
‘Well?’
‘On the night of the murder you said you spent two hours in your study, going over the papers relating to your estate. Between nine and eleven in the evening, according to your deposition. Unfortunately, neither your wife nor anyone else saw you during that time.’
‘I needed quiet. I told her to leave me undisturbed.’
‘What papers were you studying?’
‘Old documents. Deeds and suchlike. If Witherington was going to law, I needed to study the papers myself before employing my own lawyer.’
When a witness has been clearly speaking the truth, as I believed Boleyn had been up to now, it is often easy to tell when he begins lying. His eyes would not meet mine, and he shifted uneasily. I said quietly, ‘But I have all those documents. We found them at your London house.’
Boleyn’s head jerked up. For a moment he hesitated. ‘I took some of the papers to London because, as I said, I was going to consult a lawyer myself. I remember now, it was the old estate books I was looking at that night, records of the tenancies and so forth.’
I thought of challenging him further, but then decided, no, go to Brikewell first, let him think on it. ‘I see,’ I said, my tone intentionally doubtful. ‘Well, I am sure we must have tired you. We shall come back and see you soon, but tomorrow I want to visit Brikewell. I might try to see Master Witherington.’
‘He’s a savage old brute.’ Then Boleyn’s expression changed, became imploring. ‘Will you give Isabella my love? Tell her I think of her constantly. And thank her for the food she has sent me. Though the gaolers take their share, damn them.’
‘I will.’
Then he said quietly, ‘When he came before, Toby said the Lady Elizabeth has taken an interest in me. Is that true?’
‘Yes. She has.’
‘Is she paying your fees?’
‘She would see justice done. But I would ask you to keep her involvement quiet.’
‘I shall, believe me. Norfolk is Mary’s territory now.’
I stood up carefully, my back creaking. Toby banged on the door and the gaoler came to let us out. It was a relief to walk out of the cold, dank castle into the sunshine. The three of us stood on the castle steps for a moment, looking over the city. I had never seen so many church spires.
‘Well,’ I said quietly. ‘What did you make of him?’
‘He was lying about what he did on the night of the murder,’ Nicholas said.
‘Yes. We must try to find out why.’
‘So, he may be guilty after all,’ Toby said.
‘Indeed he may be,’ I replied. ‘And I think he has a temper, but whether that would be savage enough to do what was done to his wife is another matter. A ruthless streak, too, from the way he described that fight at Brikewell. And yet – in some ways he strikes me as a weak man; frightened of his tenants of his other manors taking him to court, and Witherington, too. He appears to me a man who would rather have a quiet life if he could. In either event, his lying is the most important matter we need to resolve. And we need to find Master Sooty Scambler.’