Tombland

Gerald looked at young Ralph, who shrank away terrified. He said, ‘That boy, like his father, is only a serf. Witherington owns him as much as he owns his horse.’ Several in the crowd shouted out angrily, waving staves and pitchforks. Barak whispered, ‘Are those twins mad? Do they want the crowd to tear them apart?’ And indeed there was a surging forward, and cries of ‘Kill them!’ But the twins were clever enough to realize that if Kett allowed that, in front of Codd and Aldrich, the Norwich gates would be shut against them again.

Kett stood and called out. ‘Men! Let it be known the final ending of serfdom in Norfolk will be the strongest of our demands! We shall have bond men made free!’

There were cheers, and the crowd quieted a little, though someone called out, ‘Those thugs should be hanged!’

‘They will be! Master Shardlake, will you draw up an indictment to be presented to the justices as soon as our demands are met.’

‘Certainly. I shall be glad to.’ I looked at the twins. Witherington’s desire to keep his invasion of Boleyn’s land quiet meant that nothing had been done against them before, but now there was ample witness evidence to hang them both. Yet they seemed quite unconcerned. Barnabas said, ‘As you wish, Yeoman Kett. Are we going back to Surrey Place, or Norwich Castle with our dear father?’

‘Surrey Place for now,’ Kett answered.

‘Can you get us some prostitutes? I see from the windows there’s some in the camp.’

That brought more growls from the crowd. ‘Get them out of here,’ Kett said to the guard. He addressed the crowd. ‘Don’t beat them, though I’m tempted to myself. They’ll be hanging from Norwich gallows in due time. You have the evidence written down, Jack Barak?’

‘I do.’

The twins were led away. Someone thrust a pitchfork at Barnabas, which nearly caught him, but he only laughed. Kett whispered, ‘What sort of lads are those? They seem more like devils than people. Surely even they should be frightened at the prospect of hanging; they could have made some defence instead of insulting the victim. Perhaps they are mad.’

I shook my head. ‘They are certainly beyond normal understanding.’

Chapter Forty-eight

The trials continued all afternoon, with only a short break for lunch. There were none of the rushed sessions of the criminal Assizes; the business was moved through with care for evidence, a substantial minority of the gentlemen were set free, and the crowd was quieter, settling into a routine. At five, the last gentleman was returned to prison and the crowd, having heartily clapped Kett, began to disperse. I heard, though, murmurs of ‘A few hangings wouldn’t have gone amiss’ from a group of young men around Michael Vowell.

During the afternoon the weather had continued close, and most people were sweating. There was a misting round the sun, as there had been before last month’s thunderstorm. ‘A storm’s coming,’ William Kett observed.

‘Probably tomorrow,’ Robert agreed. He turned to me and said civilly, ‘You did well today, Master Shardlake. We have gathered a fine set of detailed accusations. I will take them to St Michael’s Chapel. Now, tomorrow, I want you to cast an eye over the demands to be sent to the Protector.’ He gave me a look that brooked no opposition.

‘Very well,’ I said. He was driving me deeper into this rebellion every day.

‘Meet me at St Michael’s Chapel at two. Thank you again for today.’

We returned to our huts, but the others had not yet returned from work. Only Goodwife Everneke sat, mending clothes. ‘How went the trials?’ she asked.

‘Very well,’ Barak answered. ‘Many justified accusations against the gentlemen were set down.’

She nodded with satisfaction. ‘You look like you’ve had enough of sitting, bors. Why not go for a walk round the camp?’ She looked at our hut. ‘That long lad has been in there all day. He’s mopish. Take him out. He’s not a bad young gemmun,’ she added.

I smiled at her. ‘Good idea.’

Barak crawled into our tent. ‘Come on, Nick boy. We’ve come to winkle you out!’

* * *

WE WALKED EASTWARD , into the main body of the camp. The groups of huts, marked by bright village banners lest anyone lose their way, stretched as far as the eye could see, the sandy trails traversing the heath deep with ruts, and a host of new pathways leading through the camp. There was plenty of space, though, so vast was the heath, and there were still places where the long yellow grass remained, dotted with ragwort, thistles and the poppies the locals called copper-roses.

Barak said to Nicholas, ‘You’ll have been hot stuck in there all day.’

He shrugged. ‘How did the trials go?’

We told him, and that Kett had agreed he remain free, at which he visibly cheered. ‘I feared men would be hanged. Or that Kett could not control the crowd.’ He added quietly, ‘And that they might come for me.’