Tombland

WE SET OUT FOR the castle, walking up Conisford Street to the richer houses at the top. The afternoon was well on now, the heat of the day starting to fade. The mansion of the wealthy Paston family had been broken into and a store of swords and pikes was being carried out, watched by a crowd – some cheered, others looked disapproving. A red-faced man with a bandaged arm who, like many we had passed, had already been drinking, called out, ‘Come to the camp tomorrow and buy a cod’s head for a penny! A cod’s head for a penny!’ Edward laughed.

‘What does he mean?’ Barak asked.

‘Mayor Codd has been taken prisoner to Surrey Place!’

‘Surely they won’t execute him –’

‘Of course not,’ Edward answered impatiently. ‘He’ll likely be tried at the Oak. That fellow’s just a totty-head – it’s a joke going round.’

We turned left towards the castle. As we did so I saw a familiar figure, a large pack on his back, approaching. Peter Bone, brother of Edith Boleyn’s late maid. His nut-brown hair and beard had been cut short like that of most camp-men, and his thin, handsome face wore a tired expression. I had never seen him walking before and I saw now that he did so with some difficulty, taking slow steps. Seeing me he halted, and I think would have turned away, but Edward hailed him. ‘Peter! So you have come down into town.’

‘I have. My poor feet made me unfit to fight.’ He nodded to me. ‘Master Shardlake.’

‘What have you there?’ Edward asked.

‘My belongings,’ he answered grimly. ‘When I left my house the landlord kept my things, so this afternoon I went there with some friends and got them back.’ He laughed. ‘By God, things have changed now. The landlord huddled himself up in a corner, begging us not to kill him. We just gave him a good loud yagging, then I took all my clothes, shoes, and some family possessions. I hear the town centre is a bit wild, so I’m taking the long way round to Bishopsgate.’ He hesitated. ‘I am sorry if I have been uncivil, Master Shardlake. Only – when you first came to see me it brought back memories of my poor dead sisters.’ Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

‘I am sorry,’ I said.

He nodded, and hitched the pack on his back. ‘Well, I walk slow, I must keep a-doin’ if I’m to get back to the camp. Fare ye well.’

‘And you,’ Edward said. ‘What was that about?’ he asked me as Peter trudged away.

‘When I came here last month, to help John Boleyn in the murder case, I asked Peter Bone about his sister who worked for Edith. I did not know both his sisters had died in the spring.’

‘Ay, and without them his business failed. And years of working the treadle have given him problems with his feet, walking far pains him. But he is one who has found a new spirit of hope in the camp. And, like me, as a city man he has local knowledge which will help us with what may come. He is a decent man, honest and hard-working.’

‘What may come – you mean a force sent by the government?’

‘It’s possible, though I believe negotiation just as likely now, as I told Josephine.’ He sighed. ‘Well, whatever happens, we must face it.’

‘Yes. After hearing that proclamation I can do no other than support Captain Kett.’

‘He took his time in deciding, though,’ Barak said. But he was smiling as he looked at me.

We passed a prosperous-looking house, and could hear prayers said in cultivated voices through an open window. ‘Lord, deliver us from the forces of evil and darkness, from murderers and men of war ...’ Edward smiled wryly. ‘The rich are pissing themselves.’ I thought, but did not say, they are frightened, like Josephine. To change the subject, I asked, ‘What do you think of Captain Miles? He seems a good soldier, but things today could have been better ordered.’

‘He and the other ex-soldiers he has appointed as officers are able, but we lack weapons, which is why we are taking all we can find from the city. And training –’

‘Yes. Sometimes it is easy to forget the camp has only been in existence ten days.’

‘Miles and Captain Kett have plans for more training. To make sure everyone who is fit learns military discipline. And to involve the city poor, in case there is street fighting next time.’ He looked at me. ‘Captain Kett is no fool. He believed, perhaps too much, in the support of the Protector, but he had an alternative plan ready.’

‘Some men may be hard to discipline. Michael Vowell, for example, do you know him?’

‘He can be rowdy and seems to like the company of the more radical, younger people. But, like Peter Bone and me, he has excellent knowledge of the city. He is a useful man.’

I hesitated, then asked, ‘Do you know Toby Lockswood well?’

He looked at me. ‘The one who accused young Nicholas?’

‘Falsely. Lockswood worked with us on the Boleyn case and used his local knowledge industriously. I did all I could to accommodate him when his family fell ill; I thought he respected me, and he and Jack got on well.’

‘My mistake,’ Barak said darkly.