Tombland

I replied quietly, ‘God give you good morning, Dr Belys. My young friend here has a wound in his arm which I fear may be going bad. I wondered if you might examine it.’ I pointed to Natty, but Dr Belys did not look at him, only continued staring at me.

‘By God,’ he said, ‘you dogs have no end of insolence. This time you have not just taken over Norwich, you have fought the King’s army, bombarded and burned part of the city to ruin and robbed many of our best people. Do you seriously think you have anything to look forward to now but the revenge you deserve?’ His voice trembled. ‘I have been forced to help treat these men, they threatened to burn my house round my ears if I didn’t, but why should I do anything at your command?’

I stared at him. If the experience of rebellion had changed some of the camp-men, it had clearly done the same to the wealthier citizens, even one as well disposed to me as Belys had been just six weeks before. I answered quietly. ‘Only because he is a wounded man who needs medical care, and I would not think you would deny him that.’

Belys’s lips set even harder. He shook his head, and I thought he would refuse me, but he waved Natty forward peremptorily. The boy exposed a muscular arm and Belys ran his fingers over the wound, making Natty wince. Belys grunted. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Poisoned. All you can do is try and keep it clean.’ He indicated an old woman sitting at a trestle table, a large basket full of bottles beside her, doing a good trade. ‘She’s a basket of wayside cures there, some of them are useful – vinegar, for example. Have you barber-surgeons in the camp?’

‘A few.’

‘Look to them, then. Unless you’d like me to stop the risk of infection spreading by taking his arm off, like they’re doing with that fellow behind the sheets.’ He looked at Barak. ‘Then you’ll have two one-armed rebels to follow you around.’

Natty blenched. I said angrily, ‘I thought better of you, Doctor,’ then turned and led Natty and Barak to where the old woman sat. I told Barak, ‘See if you can buy something useful from her. Vinegar. And lavender,’ I added, remembering my doctor friend Guy’s favourite remedy. ‘I’m going to see if I can talk to Kett.’

I was in luck. Robert Kett indeed sat in the side chapel, talking to Michael Vowell, at a table thick with papers. Despite our victory his face was thoughtful, worried. ‘Captain Kett?’ I asked quietly.

He looked up. ‘Serjeant Shardlake,’ he said abruptly. ‘Good, I wanted to talk to you. There are to be more trials at the Oak tomorrow, I shall preside and I want you with me. Not trials of gentlemen this time, but thieves and looters.’ He shook his grey head. ‘They’re robbing the houses of the richer citizens. And not just them. Augustine Steward, who I need to help me, has had his house stripped. A further example has to be made.’

‘I saw, on the way here.’

He ran a hand through his grey hair. ‘I didn’t expect this.’

‘It is a consequence of war, sir,’ Vowell said.

‘Master Fulke the butcher has been brawling with others who claim that they, not him, killed Lord Sheffield. The killing itself – well, as you say, this was war. We were forced into it, they attacked us, but our community should still be apostles of peace.’ He sighed. ‘In any event, I want the looters we can catch expelled from the camp. And there are more thieves, too, I fear, to be tried.’

‘I shall attend.’ I hesitated, then added, ‘What of the gentlemen captured in the fighting?’

‘In Norwich Castle and Guildhall prison for now. We shall see.’

I hesitated again, but knew I might not have another chance. ‘Captain Kett, I wondered if I might bring Nicholas Overton back to the camp, for the hearing you promised.’

He gave me a puzzled look. ‘Who?’ I reminded him and Kett thought a moment, then said, ‘I agree to his being tried at the Oak.’ He looked at me sharply. ‘If he’s freed he won’t take the chance to run from the city, will he?’

‘Not if he gives me his oath not to.’

Kett nodded at Michael Vowell. ‘Go with him, I don’t need you for a couple of hours. Make sure Overton returns to the camp. He’ll get his hearing tomorrow.’

I felt a stab of disappointment that Kett seemed not to trust me as before. I wondered whether it was because, like Peter Bone, Edward Brown and Toby Lockswood, I was still under suspicion of the possible betrayal of Captain Miles’s wife and children. But Michael Vowell had been at that meeting, too. As had poor Hector Johnson, who had died in battle for the cause. Nonetheless, I ventured, ‘With the mood in the camp, I hope Nicholas will be fairly heard.’

Kett said sharply, ‘Master Shardlake, there must be no suspicion I am favouring you. My authority has been defied by some. You heard about the Italian hanged from Surrey Place?’

‘I saw it.’