Tombland

Footsteps sounded outside, and a shadow darkened the entrance to the hut. Toby Lockswood knelt in the doorway, his black beard longer and thicker than ever. He gave Nicholas a cold glance, then turned to me. ‘Captain Kett requires you, Master Shardlake,’ he said. ‘Now.’

Chapter Forty-four

As we walked the short distance to St Michael’s Chapel, I asked Toby, ‘How long have you known this was going to happen? All the time you were working with us?’

‘No,’ he answered in a cold, brusque tone. ‘I’d heard rumours, but it was only after my parents died and I lost the farm that I decided to seek out those who would rise against the gentlemen, and join them. Captain Kett is glad of literate men.’

‘You did much to help us on the Boleyn case. I thought we worked well together.’

He looked at me, his blue suddenly eyes fierce. ‘I have always kept a doin’ with the work I’ve been given. Though I didn’t much care what happened to Boleyn. But now I labour for the right order of the country.’

The main door of the chapel was closed, guarded by men in half-armour carrying halberds. Toby led me round to a side entrance. As we approached, a door opened and two men came out. My eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of Sir Richard Southwell, whom I had seen last with the Lady Mary, together with his man John Atkinson, the twins’ friend. They were dressed only in plain shirts and hose, no doubt to fit in at the camp. When he saw me Southwell’s face betrayed a flash of anger before resuming its usual haughty expression. He looked down at me from those heavy-lidded eyes.

‘Master Shardlake,’ he said. ‘So you are become a rebel.’

‘I was brought here,’ I said. ‘You seem to be here of your own will, though, Sir Richard.’

‘Things have reached the stage where certain negotiations are needed.’ He leaned over me. ‘You did not see us here, you understand? Just as I did not see you. Better for both of us once this matter reaches its end.’ He nodded at Atkinson, who gave me a surly look, and the two walked down the steep road to the river, Southwell showing some sort of pass to the guard on duty.

I looked incredulously at Toby. ‘That man, here? One of the biggest sheep farmers in Norfolk? I would have thought you’d have had him in Surrey Place.’

He gave me a steely look. ‘As he said, you didn’t see him. And now, Captain Kett awaits you.’

We entered a small anteroom. Toby opened the door to the main chapel and I stepped in. The walls were still brightly decorated and the old stained glass remained. Nothing else, though, of its religious function survived. The steps rising to what had once been the altar now led to an area where a large table had been placed, stacked with papers, a couple of truckle beds beside it. A pair of thick curtains had been erected over the front, which could be drawn to provide a degree of privacy. In the body of the chapel tables had been set around the walls, where men sat writing. By the main door the tall figure of Robert Kett, his grey hair and beard neatly trimmed as always, was talking to Mayor Codd, the old man in aldermanic robes and the two clerics. ‘I am sorry I had to leave you just now,’ he said, his manner amiable. ‘A piece of urgent business.’ I thought, Did that mean he had been talking to Southwell in that little office? Kett continued, ‘Well, then, it is agreed, the Norwich gates will be opened tomorrow, and there will be an additional market day. And do not fear, our people will keep the peace. This camp, after all, has been set up in the name of the King. And Master Watson, Master Conyers, your preaching in the camp will be welcome.’

‘It may help curb some of the wide-eyed prophets we saw,’ Codd said.

Kett inclined his head. ‘There are a few wilder spirits here.’

Conyers, a young cleric with a thin ascetic face and a preacher’s deep voice, said, ‘Did you hold services in the camp today?’

‘We have ministers of religion among us. They held services, all with the new Prayer Book.’

‘No discontent about that?’

‘None. All here are happy to follow the new rules in religion.’

The two clerics looked satisfied. Kett shook hands with them, then Mayor Codd and the old man, whom he addressed as Master Aldrich. As the door closed on them, Kett smiled thoughtfully. Then he turned to me, his face suddenly serious, and I was conscious of the power in those penetrating brown eyes. ‘Master Shardlake. Welcome to our administrative centre. It is time, I think, we had a serious talk. Come.’ He walked up the steps to the altar. As I followed him I cast my eye over the men working, wondering what papers they were transcribing. Kett closed the curtains behind us and stood facing me, his expression calculating, a little intimidating. To break the silence I said, ‘You seem to have done a remarkable job of organization, sir.’