Tombland

‘By the way, the men who took the money from Gawen Reynolds to leave his house alone paid it into our exchequer. Michael here saw to that. Oh,’ he added, ‘a letter came for you yesterday. It was addressed to the Maid’s Head, but in view of the seal it was intercepted and read, then passed on.’ He pulled a paper from his pile, and handed it to me. He said, ‘If you write back, be careful what you say, in your own interest. Others will read it first.’

The letter was grubby, the seal broken, but I saw it was from Hatfield Palace.

A man appeared in the doorway. He looked like a messenger, still sweating from a long ride. ‘News from Suffolk, Captain!’

‘Dear God, not another camp gone down,’ Kett said quietly. He motioned me to leave, and I returned to the nave, Vowell now accompanying me. Barak and Natty were putting a selection of bottles into the bags they had brought. ‘Well,’ Barak said, ‘that’s most of our money gone.’ Natty smiled weakly.

We walked back into Tombland. There was more trouble round Augustine Steward’s house, where men were carrying out fardels of wool. This time, however, they were approached by an older man with an air of authority, who told them, ‘Enough of this robbing and spoiling, you dausey-heads!’

A man carrying a heavy bundle said, ‘Don’t get frampled, Goodman Doo! We need wool, ain’t you noticed it’s got colder?’

Michael Vowell shouted, ‘You want me to fetch Captain Kett and the soldiers from the cathedral? If you want wool, go to the market!’

Sulkily, the men threw their booty back into the house and walked off towards the market. I said, ‘Jack, take Natty back to camp and help him treat that arm. I’m going to see how Isabella is, then I’m going to the castle gaol.’ I told him what Kett and I had agreed about Nicholas. He whistled. ‘Nick had better use his tongue wisely.’

‘He had,’ Vowell agreed.

‘Have you done what we discussed?’ I asked. Barak winked. I said to Natty, ‘I’m sorry Dr Belys would not help you more.’

‘I’ll be all right with these potions.’

‘Stop scratching that arm,’ Barak told him crossly. ‘You’ll make it worse. Now come on.’ They walked away. I looked at Michael Vowell. ‘Were you in the battle?’

‘Yes; guiding men through the Norwich streets. Fortunately, I was unhurt.’

‘You will come to the castle with me?’

‘Yes.’ He looked at me, and said with that superior air he had adopted lately, ‘We’ll be all right in Norwich. People know me.’

Chapter Sixty-six

Outside the cathedral, I asked Michael Vowell if he would wait while I read my letter. It was strange how relationships had changed; once he had been just a servant, Gawen Reynolds’s steward, now he was here to ensure I brought Nicholas safely back. He nodded agreement, and stood looking at the people heading for market as I read the letter. It was from Thomas Parry, dated 22 July, fourteen days ago. Its tone was milder than his last.

Serjeant Shardlake,

I have received your letter of 15 July, which, it seems, crossed with mine. In these whirling days one should not be surprised. But I was concerned you gave so little detail about what has happened to you. I pray you have not fallen into the hands of those rebels whose pranks threaten to tear all asunder.

I thought, How often, when the gentlemen spoke of the rebels, it was as either unruly children or animals. He continued:

The Lady Elizabeth and I are most concerned for you, and all at Hatfield pray you are safe. I know a royal Herald is to be sent to order the Norwich rebels to disband, and that force will be used if they should dare defy him.

Well, I thought, both those ships had sailed.

Master Secretary Cecil reports that until this dreadful stirring time is over, he dare not trouble the Protector about John Boleyn’s pardon – the Protector is constantly engaged in dealing with the camps, and in no good state of mind, from what I hear.