by C. J. Sansom
‘Who’s the “them” we’re fighting?’ Nicholas asked suddenly.
Dickon frowned, and all heads turned to him. Dickon said, ‘The lords and gentlemen, and their money-grubbing soldiers and mercenaries.’
‘And Protector Somerset? Who made so many promises and kept none? He rules the land in the King’s name, so this must be his army.’
Josephine was there, sitting with Mousy on her lap. Usually, she was quiet, especially when Edward was down in Norwich preparing the town for battle, as he had been for the last several nights, but now she spoke up: ‘’Tis a fair question, Master Nicholas’ – out of habit, she still used the old deferential term – ‘and none know the true answer. Perhaps others on the Council forced him to send the army, perhaps he decided himself, but either way, if we win, we may take all England.’
There was a general murmur of approval. Nicholas said no more while Barak, usually full of opinions, remained silent. After the meal there was drinking round the fire, but Barak went early to our hut. Nicholas and I joined him not long after. I slept soundly that night, but when I woke shortly after dawn, to the sound of spearmen walking past, weapons clattering, I saw that although Nicholas was in his usual place, Barak was gone.
*
NICHOLAS AND I KNEW at once what had happened, but dared say nothing. An official came during breakfast, saying Barak was due at the north of the camp. I answered hastily that he had been asked to do other work, down in Norwich. The man looked at me suspiciously and went away.
Soon after I was sent for, to accompany the trade goods to be taken to Norwich market. Although everyone was still paid a small daily wage, I imagined coinage was running out. Two covered wagons were waiting, with heavy horses to take them down into the town. As usual, Simon had been selected as one of those to lead them. Accompanied by a large guard of soldiers in helmets and breastplates, we made our way slowly to the market. On the way through Norwich we saw that every gate and breach in the walls was being shored up with earth and timber.
It was a day of hard, rough bargaining. The Norwich traders knew the food they had brought in large quantities could command whatever price they asked, and in the way of traders did not hesitate to ask for pieces of jewellery, and gold and silver plate, at prices far above the value of the food they bartered. Only a few, through sympathy for the camp, traded for an honest price, and they quickly sold out.
In the late afternoon, we made our way wearily back to the camp. I had looked for the pearl pendant I saw the day before among the goods offered, but had not seen it. I was too weary, and worried about Barak and what people would say when his desertion was discovered, to visit Boleyn and Isabella at Norwich Castle. With luck there would be time tomorrow.
We reached the camp, the horses taking the unsold valuables back to Surrey Place. I walked back to our hut. And there, sitting outside with Nicholas, was Barak, looking shamefaced. With an angry jerk of the head I indicated they should follow me inside.
Barak said, ‘When it came to it, I just couldn’t do it. It was easy enough, the eastern boundary is only marked with stones, patrols few and far between. I could have got out easily. But’ – he shook his head and looked down – ‘I couldn’t, not when I’d given my oath to Kett and you both stayed. Poor Tammy,’ he added.
‘You’ll see her soon,’ Nicholas said consolingly. Barak did not answer. I stepped outside again. Smoke was rising from campfires as preparations for dinner began. I thought, So we are together again. To await the great confrontation.
Part Six
DUSSINDALE
Chapter Seventy-three
Early the next morning, a cool day of scudding clouds, we were called to a meeting at the Oak of Reformation. Everyone from the Swardeston camp attended, including Nicholas, Barak and I, Edward and Josephine, Mousy in her arms, Simon, Natty and Goody Everneke.
The mood was serious in the massed ranks facing the Oak. William Kett and several of the Hundred representatives stood on the platform as Robert Kett stepped to the front and addressed the crowd. His face was stern, but full of resolve.
‘My friends, the hour of reckoning is at hand. My informants within the Earl of Warwick’s camp say he has just reached Intwood, three miles from Norwich – he is staying at one of the houses owned by the Gresham family, the richest merchants in London!’ There were boos and catcalls. Kett smiled.
‘Warwick has his two sons with him, Ambrose and Robert, boys in their teens – I think we shall give a good account of ourselves against them! He has also, God help him, appointed the Marquess of Northampton, who has been skulking in Cambridge with the Norfolk gentry since we defeated him, as his second-in-command! Moreover, the grand officials of Norfolk have pleaded with Warwick that they cooperated with us only under pressure, and have been forgiven and allowed to accompany the army – though made to wear laces round their necks as symbols of their perfidy!’ Everyone laughed at this, though Kett’s tone became more serious. ‘I must not hide from you that we face our greatest trial. This new army is as near as numerous our own. One thousand four hundred Switzer landsknechts, far more ferocious fighters than the Italians we faced last month, are also on their way from London to join them. Warwick has with him not merely gentry popinjays, but professional soldiers, including a contingent from the Scottish wars led by one of his most experienced commanders, Captain Drury. They may arrive as early as tomorrow!’ He was silent a moment, looking over the crowd, gauging its mood. But nearly all the faces I could see, especially those of the younger men, were firm and set. Voices shouted out, ‘We are prepared, we are ready!’ ‘Ready to die, for they will leave us nothing to live for!’
Kett pressed on. ‘Norwich is being fortified, and should the army penetrate the city our men are trained to fight them street by street, as we did the Marquess of Northampton! And if, at the end, we must fight in the open field, we are ready for that, too, with weapons, skilled leaders and the advantage of high ground! By the grace and mercy of God, whose cause we have served from the start, may we win – and our aims prevail – at last!’ Yet a shadow crossed his face, and I could not help wondering whether, having received full report of the strength of Warwick’s army, he was beginning to doubt the outcome.
But there were cheers and clapping; Kett waited a moment before resuming: ‘And now, one last thing. I believe the time has come for the womenfolk who have accompanied their men here to return home, to bring in the harvest and await their victorious menfolk. With what may happen in the coming days, I think Mousehold Heath no longer a place for women.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Also, those men wounded in past battles, or who are sick or aged, should now go home. But I thank you all for the help you have given us. And now, men, to your tasks!’ He raised his hands and nodded thanks as fresh cheers rang out, then left the stage with the others. As he passed me, William Kett said, ‘Master Shardlake, there is to be another additional market today, and you are to come to it; be at the crest of the hill in an hour.’
*
WE RETURNED TO the Swardeston camp, sombre yet determined faces surrounding us. One of the prophets walked through the crowd waving his Testament, crying out that the hour of the Apocalypse was come, and the men of the camp were God’s chosen. Some cheered him on, others ignored him. ‘Kett made a brave speech,’ Nicholas said. ‘He promises victory, but does not hide the strength of Warwick’s army.’
‘He has been honest with us all since the first day.’
‘That he has,’ a voice behind me agreed, and I turned to see Michael Vowell. He said, ‘I go down to Norwich shortly, to help with military preparations there.’ He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘A great victory is coming, Master Shardlake. Many of my friends doubt, as I do, whether this army is even sent by the Protector. He may rescue us yet.’ He nodded and walked away.
Nicholas looked after him thoughtfully. ‘I hope he’s right. I hear there have been some desertions, and there may be some more now Captain Kett has made it clear what we face.’
‘Y
ou will fight?’ Simon asked him.
‘I don’t know. And you?’
Simon looked him in the eye. ‘I shall do as I am told, take the horses wherever they are needed.’ He added quietly, ‘I have never been happier than here.’
‘And you are as good a man as any of them,’ Nicholas said.
Goody Everneke squeezed Simon’s arm. ‘I pray God bring you all safe through this trial.’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘Since my poor husband died I, too, have never been happier than at Mousehold. But it seems I must go.’
‘But you are a widow,’ I said. ‘Captain Kett spoke only of womenfolk who had accompanied their men.’
Goody Everneke smiled. ‘No, he said the camp is no longer a place for women. And’ – she looked at me shrewdly – ‘I have seen for myself that supplies are running low. The villages have little enough left to live on themselves till the harvest is brought in, they can send no more.’ She took a deep breath. ‘A couple of the older men are coming back to Swardeston with me, we should start snudging along.’ She hugged us in turn, Josephine the longest. ‘Let me go on ahead. No long goodbyes. Fare ye all well.’ She walked quickly away.
Josephine looked at me. ‘I, too, am returning to Norwich.’
‘But Josephine, if there is fighting, it will likely start in the city.’ I turned to Edward. ‘Surely it is safer if she stays here.’
He shook his head. ‘If we keep the city, Josephine is safe. Should we lose there, she will be just another Norwich woman at home with a small child. But if there is a battle up here, God knows what may happen to any helpless women and children left if, God forbid, they win. No, Josephine should now be with me, at home in Norwich. We go down this morning.’
Josephine’s face was set. ‘Do not argue, please, Master Shardlake. Edward is right. We will accompany you down to Norwich when you go with the supplies.’
‘Very well.’ I would miss her, and Mousy too. We walked on. Nicholas put a restraining hand on my arm, letting the others walk ahead. He said seriously, ‘What will you do now?’
‘Whatever Captain Kett wishes.’
He smiled wryly. ‘Forgive me, but you could be deemed old and unfit to fight. You could go.’
‘No. Not while I can be of use.’ I looked at him. ‘What of you?’
He bit his lip. ‘I don’t know. Fight for a cause I’m still not sure I believe in?’
I said, ‘It’s likely to be bloody. That Captain Drury, I encountered him in London, just before we came here. Some of his men were beating up a Scotchman, and Drury encouraged them. They looked fearsome brutes, and they’ve experience in the Scottish war.’
‘Will Sir Richard Southwell be with the army? He came up with Northampton’s army.’
‘I don’t know whether he stayed with them at Cambridge. With his sheep farms and his duties to the Lady Mary, I’d think he’d keep as close as he could.’
Nicholas smiled crookedly. ‘Well, he’s worth fighting, at least.’
*
THAT WAS THE MOST I could get from Nicholas about his intentions. We made our way to the road at the crest of the hill to await the carts going down to the city. I saw Captain Miles there, who, I guessed, like Edward Brown, was going down to make the final preparations for a siege, and probably a fight. A company of archers joined us. Josephine approached me, Mousy in her arms. ‘Do not be angry with me, Master Shardlake,’ she said. ‘I believe I will be safer in Norwich.’
‘I am not angry, Josephine, just sad that you and Mousy are leaving the camp.’
She turned to look back at the endless circles of lean-to huts, their parish banners flying. ‘I am sorry to leave, too.’ Then she added quietly, ‘Nobody will ever again say the commoners of England cannot rule themselves.’
I tickled Mousy under the chin, and she gurgled happily. ‘Look after this little one,’ I said quietly, then smiled. ‘Do you remember when you came to work for me with your father? Only five years ago, but it seems an age.’
‘Sometimes I have felt that time has moved differently in the camp, as though it was such an unheard-of, special place it affected the movements of the very planets.’ She laughed self-consciously. ‘You will think me foolish.’
‘No, I understand.’
My attention was drawn by the sound of mocking voices. Simon was surrounded nearby by a little group of boys, Norwich apprentices, I guessed, who had taken part in the habitual mockery of him there. One said, ‘You nearly fucked up the joust, didn’t you, Sooty? The way you slapped that horse – did you think it was real?’ Simon reddened and looked down. One of the men waiting to handle the horses stepped across. ‘You leave him be! If any of you dwainy weaklings could handle a horse half as well as Simon, you’d be worth having here!’ The boys dispersed sheepishly.
*
ON THE WAY DOWN to Norwich market Simon, like his fellows, was fully occupied with getting the horses and carts down the steep hill, but when we had safely reached the bottom, I approached him. ‘I saw you had a little trouble, Simon.’
He shrugged wearily. ‘I’ve had a rest from it in the camp, but those lads were up from Norwich.’
I looked at him. The man had called the boys who had taunted him dwainy weaklings. But Simon, after several weeks of good food and hard work, had filled out. I thought, then said, ‘When this is over—’
‘When we’ve won,’ he interjected emphatically.
‘Yes, when we’ve won, I have been wondering whether it might be good for you to come back with me to London. I could find you work with horses, and your natural skills would serve you well.’
He looked at me in surprise. ‘You would take me to London?’
‘If you wish. After all, what is left for you in Norwich? Your aunt?’
A flash of anger crossed his face. ‘She left me to beg. I never want to see her again.’
‘In London, you would not have the reputation of someone to be mocked.’
He looked at me, his face suddenly bright. ‘To get away from Norwich, start anew –’ Then his face clouded. ‘Yet the thought of Lunnon frightens me. I hear ’tis very big.’
‘I will make sure you are looked after. As will Barak and Nicholas.’
His eyes filled with tears. ‘Then I thank you, Master Shardlake. I will come. And I will – try to control what I do.’
I smiled. ‘You should see what some London folk get up to.’
*
NORWICH WAS FULL OF Kett’s soldiers. As we walked to Tombland, I saw over a hundred men at archery practice on St Martin’s Plain. Spearmen were being guided through the narrow lanes leading down to the Market Square by Norwich men, who pointed out coloured posts set in the ground to mark the way, while everywhere the city walls were being reinforced, men patrolling the top. Among those piling up stones I saw Toby Lockswood; at least he had never been afraid of hard work. At Tombland we said farewell to Josephine and Edward, who disappeared with Mousy. I wondered when I would see them again.
The market was again full of traders. Our carts were unloaded and bargaining began, though the traders haggled less intensely today – perhaps, with Warwick’s army almost at their door, they felt a sense of duty. Nonetheless, several times I had to point out the true value of a Venetian crystal vase or piece of gold jewellery. Again I looked for the pendant which reminded me of Catherine Parr’s, but did not see it.
Robert Kett was not present today; his brother William had taken his place. By early afternoon the carts were empty of valuables but, together with others we had brought down, full of food. William Kett approached me. He looked contemptuously at the gold plate and jewellery the traders were stuffing into their bags. ‘Stuff,’ he barked. ‘What use are such things to us now?’
‘None, sir, I agree. It was a good idea to sell everything.’
He looked at me. ‘I imagine you have some valuables at your home in London.’
‘Nothing I could not do without. I wondered, sir, whether before returning to camp I might visit Master Boleyn in Norwich
Castle, with Master Overton. I doubt I will get the chance to see him again before –’
‘Before things get rough.’ He nodded. ‘Ay, go, but be back at camp tonight.’
‘I will.’ I signalled to Nicholas, who was assisting Simon in quieting a restless horse. ‘Would you like to see Isabella Boleyn again?’ I asked him.
*
AS USUAL I FOUND the long walk up the Castle Mound tiring; although the bracken bedding in the hut had been strangely good for my back, recently it had become painful again, and my joints ached. The wetter, cooler weather of August had probably played its part.
Once more we were admitted to the castle. In the Central Hall something was happening; a large table had been set up and several gentlemen, their feet chained, were being questioned by one of Kett’s men. It reminded me of the odd scene at Surrey Place a few days before. I asked the guard accompanying us what was happening.
‘Nothing,’ he replied evasively. ‘Just some stuff to be recorded.’
He led us to Boleyn’s cell. When he knocked at the door, Boleyn’s voice called hastily, ‘A moment,’ and I heard a loud creaking from the bed. The guard smiled. ‘Nice way to pass the time, eh?’
He waited a minute, then opened the door. John Boleyn was hastily buttoning his doublet. Behind him, Isabella was smoothing down her dress. Boleyn said, ‘Master Shardlake, Master Overton, I had not expected to see you. Word is the Earl of Warwick’s army may be here tomorrow. I hope we will be safe enough here, but you should return to London while you can.’ He looked at me seriously, and Isabella nodded agreement.
I answered evasively. ‘Certainly this may be the last chance we have to meet for some time. How are you?’
‘We are both well enough.’ He looked at Isabella and smiled. She smiled back, reddening slightly. He continued, ‘Something is going on in the castle, we don’t know what, but some gentlemen are being moved. They have been put in chains again.’