Tombland

Toby nodded. ‘That’s exactly why you and Barak have joined the camp, while Overton is in prison.’

‘There is more to it than politics; you took a personal dislike to him.’

‘I hate him and all his type.’

‘But is it fair to use the power you have now to pursue a personal vendetta? Is not your judgement perhaps warped by the grief you feel for your poor parents? That is something I can understand, I have lost my parents, and others close to me as well. But one must separate grief from judgement.’

‘Must one?’ He mocked my accent. ‘Is not judgement about revenge, as can be seen on any hanging-day?’ He leaned forward. ‘Do you remember my master in London, Aymeric Copuldyke?’

‘I do. My own employer, Thomas Parry, told me at the start of all this that your abilities greatly exceeded his.’

‘Remember how he mocked me at our first meeting, my social status and Norfolk accent? I worked for that lazy fat slug for ten years. Jack Sauce, I called him behind his back. He knows far less law than I do.’

‘That I believe.’

‘So I have no love for those who rule the common people, nor any belief in their ability to rule at all. Look how well this camp is organized by ordinary people.’

‘I agree with you,’ I said impatiently. ‘But that does not justify bearing false witness against Nicholas Overton out of spite, which I believe is what you have done.’

His full mouth narrowed unpleasantly. ‘Master Shardlake, you cannot expect me to discuss a legal matter in which you have an interest. By the way, I understand you are keeping Overton in Norwich Castle, rather than bringing him to open trial.’

‘I have my own reasons for that, which Captain Kett knows. But there will be a hearing at the Oak, when you and your witnesses will be questioned. Be careful you do not make yourself look like a man motivated by vengeance before Robert Kett a second time.’

Lockswood’s face reddened with fury. I turned on my heel and walked away. I hoped that whatever position he held in the camp did not involve command of men, for he was the type who would have favourites – and victims.

* * *

OVER THE NEXT FEW days, serious training was carried out under Captain Miles and the officers – mostly ex-soldiers – whom he appointed. Men went willingly, from what I could see, to the training grounds. The booming of cannon firing practice shots often resounded over the camp.

Bad news, though, soon reached us. A camp at Hingham, fifteen miles away, intended to harry the flanks of an approaching army, was attacked by forces under Sir Edmund Knyvett of Buckenham Castle, a bulwark which had held out against the rebels. The castle was too strong for the small force to counter-attack, and they returned to Mousehold. A few days later, on Sunday, 28 July, we learned that the camp at Downham, near King’s Lynn, had been taken by the local gentry. The sight of defeated men from Downham drifting in to the camp lowered the general mood, which was already anxious now. The army was expected, though many still disputed it had been sent by Protector Somerset at all and it was rumoured to be composed merely of Norfolk gentry and their retainers.

* * *

ON THE FOLLOWING DAY , Monday, there were more trials at the Oak. I had been assisting Representative William Doughty to pass judgement on some gentlemen brought in from the countryside, and a dozen thieves who were, save one, found guilty and expelled from the camp. They were few, given the numbers here, but I found it depressing. I suspected many would make their way down to Norwich and become beggars there. By the time the proceedings were over the morning was advancing.

At that moment a messenger arrived and summoned me to see Captain Kett. I followed him to St Michael’s, walking past the rows of clerks – fewer now – and up to his large table. Captain Miles sat with him. Both gave me penetrating looks.

‘Master Shardlake,’ Kett said, ‘I understand that during the old king’s reign you worked for Queen Catherine Parr.’

‘I did.’

‘Did you ever meet her brother, Sir William Parr, now Marquess of Northampton?’

‘Once.’

Miles asked, ‘Could you describe him?’

‘A thin man, average height, with pointed features and auburn hair and beard. He would be in his late thirties now.’

Miles and Kett exchanged glances. ‘Then it’s him,’ Kett said, ‘not someone from the Norfolk gentry using his name.’ He turned back to me. ‘The army is on its way, and the man you describe is its commander. The deputy commander is young Lord Sheffield, a local man of no good reputation.’

Miles asked, ‘What would you say of Parr’s ability to command men?’

I took a deep breath. ‘He rose to the Council only because he was the late queen’s brother. He is not stupid, but – not greatly intelligent either: his skills were as a courtier. I do not think he has military experience.’

Miles turned to Kett. ‘By God, they must be short of experienced commanders.’ He looked at me sharply. ‘Would you call him your friend?’

‘No. As I said, I met him just once. My only loyalty was to Queen Catherine, and she is dead.’