Tombland

Halfway to Wymondham another group of about twenty joined us, labourers or craftsmen, by the look of them, in shirts or leather jerkins. Several carried bows, with quivers over their shoulders, some wore sallets, round military helmets, while a couple carried swords or halberds or half-pikes, no doubt taken from a manor house or church where weapons were stored for the military musters that had been a regular feature of life since the wars against Scotland and France began. I thought, Wherever the weapons might have been stored, it was these men who would have been expected to wield them if they were sent to war. Behind them a large cart pulled by donkeys contained the bodies of several slain deer.

The leader of the group exchanged greetings with Kett. ‘We’ve been a-raidin’ one of the Paston parks! Threw down the fences and went in. Gor, my lads know how to shoot. We took this cart and the dickeys to pull it, too. There’ll be venison tonight in Wymondham!’

There was a cheer from our group, and someone called, ‘We’re heading there too, bor! Jine us!’

The man looked up at Kett. ‘It’s all right to raid parks, in’t it? They count as enclosures.’

‘Yes,’ Kett agreed firmly. ‘Take the cart to the rear!’ I began to realize that Kett was already accepted as a leader. As the cart passed, I looked at the rolling heads of the slaughtered deer, which included a couple of young fauns, and suddenly felt sick. The man beside me grinned. ‘Too much for yew, Marster Lawyer?’ I did not reply, and he leaned close. ‘I’m a master carpenter, live in a village near Besthorpe. I grazed a cow and a couple of pigs on the common till last year, for my family, but the manor lord enclosed it. With a bad harvest coming we’ll be clammed wi’ hunger this winter unless we take our due.’ He came closer. ‘Some of us would like to deal with you like those lads dealt with the deer.’ He nodded emphatically, gripping his cleaver. I made no reply.

* * *

WYMONDHAM WAS HEAVING with people, more even than during the fair, well over a thousand, I guessed. The tents still stood on the common, and as we were marched past the marketplace, I saw through the open doors that the chapel was being filled with straw bedding. So was the church, while beyond, people and carts had taken places among the remains of the monastery. The great crowd was orderly, and the town constables seemed to have joined some older men, many with a military bearing, in directing people where to go. A cart filled with barrels of ale passed us. Many of those in the streets greeted Kett’s party with cheers, and raised caps and hats. Seeing us bound in the midst of the party, some people booed, and a rotten cabbage came flying at us, almost knocking the elder Flowerdew boy off his feet. Kett raised a hand. ‘No!’ he shouted sternly. ‘We shall give the gentlemen the justice they deserve, but by due process in the King’s name!’ He looked back over the men who accompanied him, and called out, ‘Wait here, all of you!’ Such was his authority that everyone stayed in their place.

His brother William appeared, and the two spoke earnestly, Robert leaning down from the horse. Then a figure detached itself from the crowd and approached me. It was Michael Vowell, his mouth open with surprise.

‘Master Shardlake? What has happened?’

‘My friends and I are prisoners, as you see. We were on a visit to Serjeant Flowerdew when Master Kett and his men called. These boys are Flowerdew’s sons. He himself has fled.’

Vowell frowned. ‘Why were you visiting him?’

‘He evicted Isabella Boleyn illegally from her house. Reynolds was involved.’ I smiled wryly. ‘I am not surprised to see you here.’

A suspicious expression crossed his face. ‘What do you mean?’

‘One night at the Blue Boar in Norwich, a few weeks ago, I saw you talking to a man I know, Edward Brown, and a soldier you called Miles. You spoke of Attleborough.’

His eyes widened. ‘And you said nothing?’

‘It was not my business. And Edward Brown and his wife are my friends. Are they here?’

He gave me a long, searching look. ‘No. In Norwich still.’ He considered, then said, ‘I will speak with the Ketts.’ He jogged to the head of the line, and I saw him talk to the brothers. Robert Kett and Toby dismounted, and walked back to us with William Kett. Close to, I saw William was older than his brother, perhaps in his mid-sixties. His square, strong face looked severe. Barak murmured, ‘Talk for your lives.’

William faced me. ‘Vowell here tells me you overheard a certain conversation in Norwich, yet told nobody.’

‘That is true. As I told him, one of the other men involved, and his wife, are my friends.’

‘The woman is his old servant, not a friend,’ Toby said severely. ‘But ’tis true he sought her out to help her,’ he added reluctantly.

William looked at me thoughtfully. ‘And said nothing about Miles, or Attleborough. He can’t have done, or it would have been nipped in the bud.’ He looked at his brother. ‘We’ll need lawyers and scriveners if we’re to do what we’ve talked about.’