Tombland

‘No,’ he replied, his voice distant, ‘how could you?’ He turned to look at where the last of Flowerdew’s hurdles were coming down. Men were dragging the bodies of the slain sheep towards the road, leaving a bloody trail, while the rest of the flock still ran helplessly round the field, other men in pursuit.

‘Well, Toby Lockswood,’ Kett asked quietly, ‘what do we do with these three?’

Toby took a deep breath. ‘The long streely lad, he’s of gemmun stock, thinks all common folk should keep in their place. He’s handy with that sword he’s wearing; you should have it off him. If we let him go, he’ll stir up trouble. I’d hold him and take him to Wymondham, like Flowerdew. The hunchback – I’m not sure about him. He’s a serjeant like Flowerdew, but used to work for the Court of Requests and I think he’s got Commonwealth sympathies. But he works for the Lady Elizabeth now, trying to save her gentleman relatives.’

‘As have you!’ Nicholas shouted. Toby ignored him.

Kett looked at me. ‘Why did you leave honourable work helping the poor?’

‘Because I made an enemy of Richard Rich. When he became Lord Chancellor I was dismissed.’

Kett nodded reflectively. He said to Toby, ‘I think he needs more questioning. What about the one-handed man?’

‘He’s their servant, and I think his sympathies are with us. Let him go.’

‘You’re right, Toby, I’m with you,’ Barak said in a steady voice. ‘Something like this should have happened long ago. But, I won’t leave Master Shardlake, nor Nicholas. He’s a decent boy for all his antrums.’

Kett nodded firmly. ‘Then you all come back to Wymondham with us. We need one more night there, that’s where everyone is gathering. Get them off their horses, we can use those. Tie their hands, but don’t buffle them about. Master Steward, we’ll need some of your carts to take those sheep to Wymondham.’

‘There’re two behind the house,’ Glapthorne said. He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll come with you willing, I’ll help you.’

Kett smiled at him cynically, recognizing this was opportunism. He said, ‘David, Theo, go with them, watch out for tricks.’

Flowerdew looked at his steward, aghast. I think it was only then he truly realized the extent of what had just happened. I could almost feel a pinch of sympathy for the wretched man, whose world had so suddenly and completely collapsed around him. But so had ours. We, too, were captives. I breathed hard to still my beating heart. Nicholas reluctantly handed over his sword and we all dismounted, till only Flowerdew was left, sitting on his horse, looking dazed. Then suddenly his whole body tightened and he put his spurs to his horse’s flank and bolted, his horse throwing three men aside like ninepins.

‘Get after him!’ Kett snapped. Two men grabbed my horse, and Nicholas’s, and mounted them. The animals, though, were already frightened, and Nicholas’s horse reared high and almost threw his new rider. By the time the men had gained control of the horses and set off after Flowerdew, he was already a small dot on the road, riding frantically for Norwich.

Chapter Thirty-eight

And so we found ourselves on the road back to Wymondham. This time, though, Barak, Nicholas and I walked with arms bound behind us, a position I found painful. To my left, Nicholas’s face wore an expression of fury, though on my other side, Barak was making every effort to gain the confidence of the men walking beside us, asking where they had come from and laughing when they told him how they had sent Master Hobart of Morley and his family fleeing from his fine house. I said nothing; on the one hand, I sympathized with their anger; on the other, I feared the escalation of violence, and remembered that I too was deemed a ‘gentleman’.

A tall fellow of about thirty, carrying a cleaver, had been positioned beside us. Occasionally, he gave Nicholas and me evil looks. Behind us Flowerdew’s sons were similarly pinioned; the elder lad wore a defiant expression but the younger looked cowed and fearful.

It was late afternoon now, but still hot, and we walked through clouds of dust that turned our hose and shoes grey. More men, and a few women, joined us as we walked along, and soon our numbers had risen to fifty. At the head of the procession rode Robert Kett – he had taken Nicholas’s horse, and beside him, on mine and Barak’s, rode Toby and Duffield, the Wymondham man. The rear was brought up by two large carts from Flowerdew’s house, pulled by donkeys, led by the steward Glapthorne, who looked uneasy. They held the bodies of the slaughtered sheep, which left a thin trail of blood on the dusty road.