Tombland

William Kett spoke first, of the mighty blow they would strike. ‘Think how far we have come since Wymondham only three weeks ago! Those sent against us include our old enemies, the gentry, men like Paston and Southwell –’ At this name, there was a chorus of boos, and someone shouted out that his papist mistress the Lady Mary should be dragged from her lair at Kenninghall. William ignored this and called out, ‘Where is that other great crooked official, John Flowerdew? Hiding in London! He is wiser than his fellows, and realizes this force can never, never beat us!’

He was followed by Robert, at his most persuasive and charismatic, gesturing with his arms, his face and short grey beard soon bathed with sweat he did not trouble to wipe away. ‘They called us traitors! But they are the traitors, for we have always been loyal to King Edward!’ He paused for cheers. ‘Once our enemies are defeated, our wrongs will be righted. Never forget those wrongs! We shall have, by his Majesty’s grace, permanent commissions to remedy abuses, in which we will have a say!’

There were more cheers and clapping, although I noticed that some men, again mostly the poorer and younger ones, responded half-heartedly. Kett wiped his brow and gestured to John Miles. ‘Now our good Captain Miles will speak of our strategy.’

Miles stepped to the front of the platform. His face under a crested morion helmet was set and determined, his words clear and sharp. ‘Men of Mousehold, our spies in Northampton’s camp tell us he plans to occupy Norwich first before assaulting us. That is good, we can trap him there, harry him and then attack across the river at Bishopsgate Bridge! He has made a blunder, he would have been more sensible to attack the heath first, even though we have the advantage of high ground. I will not hide from you that he has some skilled commanders with him as well as the dross of the Norfolk gentry, and Italian mercenaries who dress like popinjays but are good fighters. But we have the men, over five thousand of you ready, and the weapons and cannon in which some of you are now trained. We outnumber them over three to one. Above all we have our cause! So go you, train again today, for tomorrow we fight!’

Loud cheers rose from the ranks, Natty and Hector Johnson among them. The speeches over, Barak and I turned to leave but Kett called to me in a sharp voice. ‘Serjeant Shardlake! Please, follow me to my headquarters.’ I exchanged a puzzled look with Barak, then headed to the chapel. Others were making their way there, too – Michael Vowell, Hector Johnson, Edward Brown, Peter Bone – and Toby Lockswood, who studiously avoided my gaze, as well as the Kett brothers themselves and John Miles. Everyone, I remembered, who had been in that consultation with Kett before Norwich was taken.

When Kett arrived at the old chapel, he bade us all follow him to his table. He drew the thick curtain separating it from the clerks at work in the body of the hall, and told everyone to sit.

Kett studied our faces, then said, ‘Captain Miles’s wife and children have been captured, at their refuge with friends in the London Bishopsgate district, and taken to prison. A rider from the Council brought the news yesterday, giving details of where they had been found. He offered Captain Miles amnesty on condition he surrender himself immediately.’

Miles raised his head. His expression was drawn now, pale under his tan. He said, ‘I refused. When first I left London, my dear wife said that that is what I must do if they were found.’

Kett banged his fist on the table. ‘And the only mention of their whereabouts was accidentally made by Captain Miles at one of the meetings I held before the Herald came, when you’ – he raked us with his gaze, one by one – ‘were the only ones present!’

There was a moment’s silence, then Toby Lockswood said, ‘It could have been spies in London who found them. Did the rider say otherwise?’

‘No. But some suspicion must naturally fall on all of you. Did anyone tell any other person about John Miles’s wife?’ He looked at me. ‘Your friend Barak?’

‘I have spoken no word to him, nor anyone else.’

‘Nor I,’ Michael Vowell said. ‘What would I gain by it?’

Hector Johnson said, his voice shaking slightly, ‘I, too, have said nothing. I have been loyal from the start. I risked my life in the taking of Norwich. You know that, Captain Kett.’

Toby Lockswood looked at me. ‘Master Shardlake is the only one present from the gentleman classes, who might have a stake in our defeat.’