Tombland

‘I do.’ Kett’s voice rose. ‘You were always a man who used the King’s authority to steal every penny from his neighbours. Rich as you are, you are never happy unless you are a-lawyering and a-quarrelling! Like hundreds of so-called gentlemen and lawyers, you will do all you can to hinder the Protector and Commissioner Hales in righting the wrongs of the countryside and fostering the Commonwealth. And so it falls to us to aid their work.’ It was a loud, fluent speech, angry but controlled.

Flowerdew said, bitterly, ‘You own land yourself, Kett, all around Wymondham. And were once a good supporter of traditional religion, a friend of Abbot Loye. How can you associate yourselves with these stinking radicals?’

A man with a half-pike pointed it threateningly at Flowerdew. ‘You shut your clack-box, or you’ll get stuck like a pig.’

Kett replied, his voice rising so all around could hear. ‘I work with my hands, on my farm, and like all Norfolk men I suffer from the enclosures of the rich gentlemen and the thefts of officials like you. Christ’s blood, sir, we’ll open the Protector’s eyes to the true state of things, God save him, we will!’

Flowerdew looked distinctly worried now. In his meadow some of the men who had taken down the hurdles were chasing the sheep, long knives upraised. Three men brought one down. A knife was raised, the animal jerked, bleating frantically, and blood gushed over its white body. A second sheep was caught and its throat quickly cut too. Flowerdew looked at his steward, who could only shake his head. Then he said, a tremble of fury in his voice now, ‘Stop them killing my sheep.’

Kett shook his head.

‘My sons are not yet sixteen,’ Flowerdew said, his voice suddenly pleading. ‘My wife is helpless in my house.’

‘We will hurt no women or children. But we don’t want you raising people to attack us. You and your sons will come with us to Wymondham.’

Young Edward and William looked at each other. ‘You can’t command me where to go,’ Flowerdew said incredulously.

‘We can, and we do.’

Duffield said eagerly, ‘We can rough him up a bit, carn’t we, Master Robert?’

Kett considered, gave Flowerdew a long, hard look, then said, ‘Maybe, but not much, just buffle him about a bit. We’ll take the steward as well.’

One of the men surrounding us looked at Barak, Nicholas and I. ‘Who be these three beauties?’

I answered, ‘We have been visiting Serjeant Flowerdew. On a legal errand.’

Duffield said, ‘Show us your hands, all of you.’

‘I can only give you one, boys,’ Barak said, and a couple of the men laughed. We all opened our palms. Duffield said, ‘Just as I thort. Inky fingers, hands soft as women’s, all of them.’ He held up his own hands, rough and calloused with a lifetime’s work. ‘Lawyers, friends of Flowerdew.’ My heart began to pound; this was looking bad for us. Nicholas looked angry, and I prayed he would keep his mouth shut. I was conscious, too, of the weight of Isabella’s gold at my belt.

Then I saw a man approaching from the field. A stocky fellow, with a black beard and large blue eyes. Toby Lockswood, whose family troubles I feared had prevented him getting in touch. But he was here, he was one of the conspirators. I felt a sudden spurt of anger.

‘That pignut,’ Nicholas breathed.

Toby marched boldly up to us, giving me a cold nod. Nicholas burst out, ‘Have you forgotten how to bow, Lockswood?’

‘Shut up, you stupid arsehole,’ Barak hissed. He could see, as I could, that Toby had some authority here.

‘I know these birds,’ Toby said to Kett.

‘They the people you worked for at Norwich?’

‘They are. Master Shardlake, what are you doing as a guest of John Flowerdew?’

‘I came to see him about a legal matter.’ I looked at Flowerdew, hesitating, but my first loyalty was to Nicholas and Barak, and I continued, ‘His illegal eviction of Isabella Boleyn.’

Flowerdew looked at me in fury, as a fresh muttering arose among the men around us and our horses stirred uneasily again. Young William Flowerdew gave me a look of disgust which, I confess, shamed me. Then someone said, ‘He’s the one that saved that gemmun from the rope in Naarich, while the common folk hanged.’

Kett raised an interrogative eyebrow at Toby. Lockswood studied us, considering. I said quietly, ‘I was going to come to your farm today, Toby, to see how you fared. I was worried when you did not get in touch as you promised, especially after all the help you gave us in Norwich.’

His face darkened. ‘My life on the farm is over. My mother died a few days ago, and my father fell down and died, too, the next day.’ His voice broke for a moment, then he continued, ‘The farm was held on a tenancy of three lives, and my father’s was the last. I’m out. I knew what was brewing and came to Wymondham to join what was coming.’

‘I am sorry about your parents,’ I said, quietly. I realized there were new lines on Toby’s face, a wildness in those large eyes now. ‘I did not know.’