Tombland

‘You can’t work for these brutes,’ he repeated.

‘Nick, if I get you out of here, you have to control your mouth.’

He looked around the cart, where several men in a similar condition stared at us dully. I recognized Flowerdew’s sons, both looking very young and scared. ‘Look what has been done to these boys,’ Nicholas remonstrated.

‘Their captors are angry. But they’re not brutes.’

He glanced at the cart, where the twins sat still glaring at us. ‘I wish those two would shut up.’

I felt desperately sorry for him. Like the others he had experienced nothing remotely like this before; though I had known worse, sent to the Tower twice in the old king’s reign. I said, ‘Keep calm, and rest. And in Jesu’s name, be quiet.’

He nodded despairingly. ‘They say we’re headed for Mousehold Heath.’

‘Yes. We should get there tomorrow.’ I grasped his hand. ‘Keep strong.’

He nodded. ‘I will.’

Another gentleman in the cart, the embroidered collar of his shirt torn half away, cried despairingly, ‘And what then? These mad animals will execute us.’

‘Robert Kett will not allow that.’ I took a deep breath, and said quietly, ‘Nor will I.’ In that moment, my decision to help him at the trials was made.

* * *

NATTY AND I RETURNED through the camp to where Barak now sat with a group of around twenty villagers round the cauldron. He had made friends with them – he had a silver tongue when he chose. A fire of freshly chopped wood under the cauldron was burning strongly, and there was a rich cooking smell. An older woman was stirring it. I sat beside Barak, nodding and smiling at the others, remembering that I must try to disguise my accent. I accepted a drink from a flagon, which was being passed around, containing strong beer rather than the ale we had had so far. ‘Good stuff, bor,’ the man who passed it to me said. ‘Fresh from our landlord’s stores.’

‘These folk are from an estate a few miles from a place called Swardeston,’ Barak explained.

I nodded. ‘What brought you here?’

A middle-aged man answered. ‘Our village is dyin’. The lord’s been overstocking the commons with his sheep, so there’s no room left for our animals. By gor, I’m a churchwarden an’ a man of peace, but we’ve had enough.’

The woman stirring the pot turned to us, smiling. ‘So we raided the steward’s house, took his money an’ weapons, sent his fine wife runnin’ to the woods, and turned his sheep off the commons!’

There was laughter round the group. ‘Well told, mar!’

Natty was standing at a little distance, looking awkward. The woman called to him. ‘On yer lonesome, bor?’

He stepped forward, and was invited to sit with the rest of us. ‘No lack o’ vittles here, boy.’

‘Thank you.’ He took a seat next to me. I smiled at him wryly. ‘Still keeping an eye on me?’

He nodded. I realized he had been reluctant to impose himself on the villagers. There must be many like him in the camp, single men and boys without a local group. The flagon was passed to Natty, who drank gratefully.

‘How was Nick?’ Barak asked quietly.

‘Tied up in a cart. But he’s holding on. Gerald and Barnabas were in the next cart. Gerald spat at me.’

‘Nice.’

Food was being passed out now; rich dark venison in a thick pottage of vegetables. Grace was said, for the first time in days, I realized. Everyone set to eagerly. The flagon was passed round again, and Natty took a long swig, then another. There was little talking while we ate, but when we put our bowls down, Natty stood, a little unsteadily. ‘Good lady, I thank you,’ he said to the cook, who gave a little curtsey. ‘I have not eaten such a fine meal in months!’

‘Nor have any of us, lad!’

Natty said, ‘No, for the rich lords care not if we starve! But now we have them, and their sheep and deer.’ His voice broke with emotion. ‘At last we are free! Free to eat, and free to speak out!’

‘Well said, lad!’

‘We shall set all aright! A new world is dawning, the rich will be put down and the common man will have his own land, his own trade, his own life! We shall bring Christ’s Commonwealth!’ Tears began running down his face, and, I saw, also from the eyes of some who cheered him on.

Chapter Forty-two

Next morning, we again set off early, heading south-east, slowly, for many were tired now. The weather was cooler, but sticky, the sky covered with a thin milky cloud. At the slower pace I walked more easily.

We tramped on, up the outer slopes of Mousehold Heath, which rose gently here. We stayed with the village group from last night, Natty with me still. We stopped for lunch, and bread and cheese with rabbit stew were passed around. I had only just started eating, though, when a messenger appeared. ‘Master Shardlake, Captain Kett would speak with you.’ I rose, the villagers looking at me in surprise. They had no idea I was so elevated.