Tombland (The Shardlake series Book 7)

by C. J. Sansom

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The seismic events of the 1549 English rebellions are surprisingly little known; but Tombland is based on the known evidence, and the huge camp on Mousehold Heath actually existed.

  Some events, such as those concerning the gentleman prisoners in Part Six, and one incident that takes place in Chapter Seventy-five, may appear too far-fetched to be true, but they actually happened.

  More detail is given in the Historical Note.

  I did well in keeping in Kett’s camp and thought nothing but well of Kett. He trusted to see a new day for such men as I was.

  Ralph Claxton, Norfolk parish clerk, prosecuted for speaking these words, 1550

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Part One – London

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Part Two – Norwich

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Part Three – Wymondham

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Part Four – Mousehold Heath

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Part Five – Bond Men Made Free

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Chapter Sixty-six

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-one

  Chapter Seventy-two

  Part Six – Dussindale

  Chapter Seventy-three

  Chapter Seventy-four

  Chapter Seventy-five

  Chapter Seventy-six

  Chapter Seventy-seven

  Chapter Seventy-eight

  Chapter Seventy-nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-one

  Chapter Eighty-two

  Chapter Eighty-three

  Chapter Eighty-four

  Chapter Eighty-five

  Chapter Eighty-six

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  HISTORICAL ESSAY: REIMAGINING KETT’S REBELLION

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Prologue

  January 1549

  I had been in my chambers at Lincoln’s Inn when the messenger came from Master Parry, asking me to attend him urgently. I wondered what might be afoot. He was the Lady Elizabeth’s Comptroller, head of the financial side of her household, and I had worked under him since I was recommended to Elizabeth by Queen Catherine Parr two years before, following King Henry’s death. The old king had left a huge income – £ 3000 a year – to each of his two daughters, with the intention that they should convert the income into landed property. Lord Protector Somerset had decided to let the Lady Mary have first choice of what was available on the market; though her religious conservatism was entirely at odds with his Protestant radicalism, as Henry’s elder daughter, Mary was heir to the throne should anything happen to young King Edward. Her welfare was also important to her cousin the Holy Roman Emperor Charles, with whom Somerset needed to keep on good terms. Elizabeth, on the other hand, counted for little. But Mary was settled now, the bulk of her estates in Norfolk, and Parry was starting to build up blocks of land for Elizabeth, mostly in Hertfordshire. Some juicy piece of ex-monastic land had probably come his way, and he was keen for me to secure it quickly.

  I thought how much I owed to that dear lady, Catherine Parr. I had been distressed when, shortly after King Henry’s death, she had married Thomas Seymour, the Protector’s brother, a charming, handsome, unscrupulous and ruthlessly ambitious man. Lady Elizabeth had lived with them, but had left the house under a cloud the previous May, amidst rumours that Seymour had made advances to the then fourteen-year-old girl. And then, last September, Catherine Parr herself died giving birth to Seymour’s child. It had been a great shock, which still lay heavy on my heart.

  Telling my clerk John Skelly I might be gone a while, I set out from Lincoln’s Inn to walk to Master Parry’s offices off Knightrider Street – he was not a lawyer, so not a member of the Inns. It was a cold, icy day; dirty snow still lay at the sides of the streets, and I watched my footing carefully among the busy Londoners. I shook my head at how many beggars there were now, crouched in doorways, muffled in whatever rags they had gathered against the cold.

  The growing desperation of the poor was one of the many changes that had come to pass these last two years. Henry had left control of the country to a nominated Council until King Edward, now eleven, reached his majority. The Council, however, had quickly devolved power to Edward’s elder uncle, Edward Seymour, now Duke of Somerset, who ruled as a virtual king. Perhaps after sixty years of firm, centralized rule by Henry VII and Henry VIII, those in power could only conceive of government by a single man.

  After five years of war with France and Scotland, Henry had left the kingdom at peace when he died. It was much needed; his wars had bankrupted the country, and had been paid for by the debasement of the coinage, adulterating silver with copper. These coins were no longer accepted at face value by traders, and prices were now almost double what they had been a decade ago. The effect on the poorer classes, especially, was catastrophic, for wages remained the same.

  But Protector Somerset had promptly launched a massive war against Scotland, hoping the growing number of Scottish Protestants would support him, and that the marriage of the six-year-old Mary, Queen of Scots to King Edward would take place, uniting the kingdoms. He had built a series of forts in the new Italian style which he believed unassailable, throughout the Scottish lowlands and up as far as the River Tay. But the Scotch had resisted everywhere; the forts, poorly built, had been taken one by one, while Mary herself had been sent to France, Scotland’s ally, which had also provided troops. Although the war was a disaster, the Protector refused to accept defeat, and was said to be planning yet another campaign eve
n while his soldiers in the remaining forts were deserting for lack of pay.

  I dropped a coin into the cap of yet another beggar shivering against a wall. The man was missing a leg, probably a veteran of the wars. The Protector made much of his claims to be a friend to the poor, and blamed the economic problems on the illegal enclosures of rural manors by landlords, and the turning of tenants off their land to make way for the more profitable sheep. There had been rebellions in Hertfordshire the previous year, and remedies were promised.

  I walked downhill, the great spire of St Paul’s Cathedral starkly outlined against the cold blue sky. I was reminded of how, when the cathedral’s great rood screen had been taken down, two workmen had been killed, which religious traditionalists had said was a punishment from God. For religious change, greater by far than under King Henry, was convulsing the country. Under the Protector, Protestant radicals were now firmly in charge. Images were being removed from the churches, wall paintings whitewashed. The chantries where prayers were said for the dead had been abolished and their revenues appropriated to the Crown. And soon there would be a new prayer book in English. It was said that in it the Mass – with the belief that the priest turned the wafer and wine into the actual blood and body of Christ – would be replaced by a Communion commemorating Christ’s sacrifice – a view punishable by burning to death only three years before. I shuddered at the memory of the execution of Anne Askew at Smithfield, which I had been forced to witness.

  I entered Knightrider Street and arrived at Parry’s chambers, kicking the snow from my boots before entering the building. To my surprise, the outer office was empty, so I went in and knocked on Parry’s door. A voice called me to enter. I went in, then almost staggered back with surprise. The chair behind the broad desk was occupied, not by the stout figure of Thomas Parry, but by a thin, grey-haired man in black silk robes, the gold chain of the Lord Chancellor of England round his neck. Lord Richard Rich, my oldest enemy. Standing behind him I saw, with almost equal surprise, the spare brown-bearded figure of William Cecil. I had worked with Cecil three years ago, when he was employed by Catherine Parr. His rise since then had been very fast. Not yet thirty, he was one of the Protector’s senior secretaries, already a powerful man. When I worked with him before, he had been a friend. But even then I knew that he put his own success, and the Protestant cause, before anything else. And now he was in company with Rich. I looked at him. Cecil’s protuberant grey eyes fixed on mine, but he said nothing as Rich sat studying me, wolfishly.

  Taken utterly by surprise, I blinked, and asked, ‘Where is Master Parry?’

  ‘In the Tower,’ answered Rich, in a voice as icy as the weather.

  I stared at him. He continued, in severe, accusatory tones, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘As is the Lady Elizabeth’s chief gentlewoman Kat Ashley, and sundry others, accused of conspiring treason with Lord Thomas Seymour. The Lady Elizabeth herself is under interrogation by Sir Robert Tyrwhit at Hatfield.’

  My heart pounded. Grasping the back of a chair with a trembling hand to steady myself, I asked, ‘Of what treason is Seymour accused?’

  Rich smiled and turned to Cecil. ‘See, Master Secretary, he is unmanned now all is discovered.’ Cecil continued to stare at me impassively. Rich leaned forward over Parry’s desk, clasping his long fingers together. His voice deepened with indignation.

  ‘You ask what treason? Better to ask what treason he is not accused of. Conspiring with the pirates he is supposed to clear from our seas as Lord Admiral, to share their profits. Suborning the head of the Bristol Mint to put coin at his disposal. Filling his castle at Sudeley with armaments. Conspiring to abduct the King and make himself Protector in his brother’s place. And, finally, conspiring with Master Parry and Mistress Ashley to marry the Lady Elizabeth without the consent of the Council. Will that do, Serjeant Shardlake? Perhaps there is more you can tell us in due course, but in the meantime we wish to know what knowledge you have of Thomas Seymour’s plan to marry the Lady Elizabeth. Mistress Ashley has already confessed to talking of a marriage with him, and Master Parry to discussing her purchases of land with Seymour.’

  I glanced at Cecil. He spoke gravely. ‘All this is so.’

  I turned back to Rich. ‘My Lord Chancellor, I know nothing of this.’

  Rich continued as though I had not spoken, ‘You are responsible under Master Parry for dealings pertaining to the Lady Elizabeth’s lands. Parry must have consulted you in order to answer Seymour’s questions fully. Tell me what was said between you on the matter.’ He had a blank sheet of paper before him. He dipped a quill in the inkpot and held it ready to write.

  ‘Nothing,’ I answered, truthfully. ‘Master Parry never told me of any talks with Seymour, certainly not of any proposed marriage to Elizabeth. How can you imagine he would have?’ I added, my courage returning. ‘You know full well that I have ever despised Thomas Seymour, who has always been capable of the wildest and most fantastical talk.’ I glanced again at Cecil. This time, he gave me the faintest of nods.

  Rich sneered. ‘You did not despise Lord Thomas’s late wife, the former Queen. I know of your closeness to Catherine Parr. It was her patronage that got you your current post. What correspondence did you have with Catherine Parr concerning Elizabeth in the months before her death?’

  ‘Again, my Lord, none. We never wrote, nor met again, after my appointment to the household of the Lady Elizabeth after the old king’s death.’

  Rich gave a scoffing little laugh. ‘You expect me to believe that? You were her confidential adviser.’

  ‘Not since the old king died. She was soon married to Seymour.’

  ‘You seriously expect me to credit that?’ Rich said, in a courtroom tone of mock outrage. ‘Given your old closeness to her, and your service to Elizabeth? She said nothing to you of what happened between Elizabeth and Seymour? Of Seymour’s advances to Elizabeth while his wife’s belly was heavy with child?’

  I took a deep breath to steady myself. ‘I swear I knew nothing of any of these alleged matters before today.’

  ‘Not alleged,’ Rich snapped. ‘Kat Ashley is singing like one of the late Queen Catherine’s songbirds. She cannot say enough about Seymour’s advances to Elizabeth.’

  ‘I know nothing of any of this.’

  Rich smiled. ‘So said Master Parry. Before he was shown the instruments in the Tower.’

  Fury and bitterness suddenly overcame my fear. ‘I have seen them too, Lord Rich, and thanks to you. But you will not entrap me. If Thomas Seymour has been such a fool as you say, may he receive the justice he deserves. You talk of conversations with Parry and Mistress Ashley, but you have said nothing of any actual agreement to encourage a marriage without the Council’s consent. And the Lady Elizabeth must have said nothing either, or you would have told me about it. So, I repeat, I know nothing of this.’

  Rich’s pale face reddened, angry in his turn. Then, behind him, Cecil held up a hand for me to see, palm down, and lowered it gently. A warning to me to still my tongue.

  Rich had seen me glance at Cecil, but not his gesture. He turned to him. ‘Young Master Cecil is come with me to make a search of Master Parry’s offices. He will be going through all his documents. You can help him.’ Rich paused. ‘Before we do, is there anything here to which you would direct us? Helping us voluntarily now might go in your favour later.’

  ‘I know of nothing.’

  Rich smiled nastily. ‘Afterwards, I may carry out a search of your own chambers, and your house.’

  ‘You will need a warrant, Lord Rich,’ Cecil reminded him gently.

  Rich frowned. ‘That is easy, I am Lord Chancellor.’

  ‘Please,’ I said quietly, ‘do not wait on a warrant. Make any search you like. I would not wish to slow your investigations.’ I realized now that Rich had come on no more than a fishing expedition, hoping to trap me in his nets.

  The Lord Chancellor threw down the quill, spattering Parry’s desk with ink. ‘We shall make the search
, and a deposition will be required of you.’

  ‘As you wish, my Lord.’

  Rich set his thin lips, then stood up. ‘I am wanted at the Tower. Seymour is to be questioned again.’ He looked narrowly at Cecil. ‘Conduct the search of Parry’s offices thoroughly. I have others working at his home. Shardlake’s premises can be examined later.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord.’ Cecil bowed, as did I. Rich gave me a look of pure malevolence, then walked swiftly to the door, his silk robe rustling. He slammed it behind him – he ever had a streak of petulance. Cecil and I were left alone. He did not speak until he heard the outer door slam, too.

  ‘You truly know nothing of any of this?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Nothing, I swear.’

  ‘I did not think so. Master Parry knows well when to keep things to himself.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Rich is one of those in charge of the interrogations; when your name came up he insisted on questioning you himself. The Protector asked me to accompany him, to make sure he did not – exceed himself.’

  ‘Thank you, Master Cecil.’

  His face became grave. ‘Seymour’s plotting, though, is a desperately serious matter. And if the Lady Elizabeth did indeed consent to marry him without the Council’s agreement, which would never have been given, that is treason.’

  ‘But unless the Lady Elizabeth agreed to an illegal marriage, she is innocent. That is also true of Parry and Kat Ashley.’

  ‘It is.’ Cecil’s shoulders relaxed slightly. ‘I think Parry and Ashley may be found guilty only of careless gossip, and Elizabeth of nothing.’

  I hesitated, then asked, ‘Is it true, then, about Seymour’s advances to the Lady Elizabeth?’

  An expression of distaste crossed his thin features. ‘I fear, according to Ashley, that it is. It was when the late Queen Catherine caught them embracing that she sent Elizabeth away.’

  I shook my head. ‘I would not have thought the Lady Elizabeth would ever be so – thoughtless.’

  He sighed. ‘Young girls are impressionable, and Seymour has the charm of the devil.’

  ‘The evidence against him on the other matters –’

  ‘Irrefutable. It will be public knowledge very soon. He intended to take control of the King. I do not think anything can save Thomas Seymour now. The Protector will have to execute his own brother.’ Cecil shook his head. ‘It is dreadful for him.’