Tombland

Kett turned enquiringly to Miles, who said, ‘I think you could let him go, Captain. He’s had some of the nonsense knocked out of him. And he’s no friend of those crazy twins from Brikewell. They shout insults at him more than anyone else.’

Kett nodded. ‘Very well. Overton will be released when we reach Mousehold Heath.’ He looked at me sharply. ‘Provided he takes an oath to you that he will not escape.’ He raised a finger. ‘And I hold you responsible for him, mark that.’

‘I understand.’

The cleric coughed. ‘We should move on to consider the appointment of a chaplain. There are too many wild prophets preaching the apocalypse –’

‘Ay, Master Chaundler. Thank you, Serjeant Shardlake.’ Kett nodded his head in dismissal, and I walked slowly back to Barak and the villagers.

* * *

WE MARCHED ON , the ground rising more steeply now, Kett at our head, a great train of wagons pulled by oxen and donkeys and horses behind; and in the rear, with a guard of armed men, the carts bearing the prisoners. I realized with surprise that it was Friday, the twelfth of July, less than a week since Isabella’s appeal had sent me to Wymondham. We passed through the village of Sprowston, where fences enclosing sheep were pulled down and a substantial manor house forcibly entered. A man in a rich doublet and hose was brought out, shouting in fury and calling his captors dogs and pigs until a smack on the head and a shout to ‘stop that dullerin’’ quieted him. Old Hector Johnson, who had replaced Natty at my side, said, ‘That’s Master John Corbett.’ He looked at me. ‘A lawyer on the make like Flowerdew, who bought up old monastic lands.’

‘I have never been on the make,’ I answered.

‘Live in a ditch, do you?’

‘I have never been on the make,’ I repeated angrily, though I could not but think of my fine London house.

Johnson smiled. ‘Just yagging you, sir. ’Tis our Norfolk sense of humour.’

Corbett was being dragged to the carts, while anything useful was carried out of his house. Horses were led round from the stables. Valuables, including silver plate and coins, were taken to Kett and his senior men at the head of the march, where a treasurer seemed to have been appointed to receive gold and silver, though I could not but wonder cynically how many coins stayed in the purses of the men who brought the valuables out. At least nothing more had been said about Isabella’s money that I still kept safe.

A little further on we came to an ancient building with an ecclesiastical aspect, which had been converted into a huge dove house. A party of men with bows and arrows peeled off and took places around the buildings, while others armed with large hammers went inside. In a couple of minutes hundreds of doves flew out, many immediately shot down as they had been at Witherington’s field. The men inside set to demolishing the building, pieces of the roof soon crashing down. As the march passed on men stopped to wave and cheer.

‘What is that place?’ I asked a man walking beside me, who was watching with particular satisfaction.

‘Before the dissolution it was a leper hospital. Last year it was sold to Corbett, so his doves could rob our crops for his table.’

‘I have seen the destruction they can do,’ I said.

‘They will do no more,’ he replied emphatically.

Some people from Sprowston joined us, and the march resumed. The Earl of Surrey’s great mansion came into view, but Kett made for a large chapel, a little nearer. Beside it the escarpment fell steeply to the Wensum, with Norwich beyond. The sky had cleared and the view was the most extraordinary I had seen in my life, the whole city spread out below us, the river, the walls, the many spires, the great square block of the castle, and, dominating everything, the huge spire of the cathedral which on this clear day looked so close I felt I could almost reach out and touch it.

Barak came and whistled. ‘That view’s something,’ he said. ‘Really something. And the best vantage point we could have.’

Word was going around for people to form into village or parish groups, and wait until men came to show them where they should pitch up. I asked Barak, ‘Where do we go?’

‘We could join the Swardeston people. They seem a decent crew.’

‘Yes.’ As we waited, I looked across at Surrey Place. It was a huge Italianate palace with decorated columns, large windows and gardens, behind high walls, looking entirely out of place on the heathland. A group of men were hauling out a well-dressed official who, I presumed, was the caretaker, anxious servants standing around. The caretaker was led away, expostulating.

‘I’m surprised Kett hasn’t taken Surrey Place as his headquarters,’ I said quietly.

Barak shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t look good, setting himself up in an earl’s palace.’

‘No.’

‘And a place that size, it’s a big target if the city council got cannon down to the riverside.’

I smiled. ‘You’re thinking like one of the rebels, Jack.’

‘I am, yes. This cause is just, if ever one was.’