Tombland

‘Come on, bor,’ the Swardeston leader Dickon said reprovingly. ‘Don’t talk so downy. A fierce battle there will be, but we beat them once and can do it again. God and justice are on our side, and our men are well trained as any could be. I’ve seen the bowmen – gor, how those arrows fly.’

‘Who’s the “them” we’re fighting?’ Nicholas asked suddenly.

Dickon frowned, and all heads turned to him. Dickon said, ‘The lords and gentlemen, and their money-grubbing soldiers and mercenaries.’

‘And Protector Somerset? Who made so many promises and kept none? He rules the land in the King’s name, so this must be his army.’

Josephine was there, sitting with Mousy on her lap. Usually, she was quiet, especially when Edward was down in Norwich preparing the town for battle, as he had been for the last several nights, but now she spoke up: ‘’Tis a fair question, Master Nicholas’ – out of habit, she still used the old deferential term – ‘and none know the true answer. Perhaps others on the Council forced him to send the army, perhaps he decided himself, but either way, if we win, we may take all England.’

There was a general murmur of approval. Nicholas said no more while Barak, usually full of opinions, remained silent. After the meal there was drinking round the fire, but Barak went early to our hut. Nicholas and I joined him not long after. I slept soundly that night, but when I woke shortly after dawn, to the sound of spearmen walking past, weapons clattering, I saw that although Nicholas was in his usual place, Barak was gone.

* * *

NICHOLAS AND I KNEW at once what had happened, but dared say nothing. An official came during breakfast, saying Barak was due at the north of the camp. I answered hastily that he had been asked to do other work, down in Norwich. The man looked at me suspiciously and went away.

Soon after I was sent for, to accompany the trade goods to be taken to Norwich market. Although everyone was still paid a small daily wage, I imagined coinage was running out. Two covered wagons were waiting, with heavy horses to take them down into the town. As usual, Simon had been selected as one of those to lead them. Accompanied by a large guard of soldiers in helmets and breastplates, we made our way slowly to the market. On the way through Norwich we saw that every gate and breach in the walls was being shored up with earth and timber.

It was a day of hard, rough bargaining. The Norwich traders knew the food they had brought in large quantities could command whatever price they asked, and in the way of traders did not hesitate to ask for pieces of jewellery, and gold and silver plate, at prices far above the value of the food they bartered. Only a few, through sympathy for the camp, traded for an honest price, and they quickly sold out.

In the late afternoon, we made our way wearily back to the camp. I had looked for the pearl pendant I saw the day before among the goods offered, but had not seen it. I was too weary, and worried about Barak and what people would say when his desertion was discovered, to visit Boleyn and Isabella at Norwich Castle. With luck there would be time tomorrow.

We reached the camp, the horses taking the unsold valuables back to Surrey Place. I walked back to our hut. And there, sitting outside with Nicholas, was Barak, looking shamefaced. With an angry jerk of the head I indicated they should follow me inside.

Barak said, ‘When it came to it, I just couldn’t do it. It was easy enough, the eastern boundary is only marked with stones, patrols few and far between. I could have got out easily. But’ – he shook his head and looked down – ‘I couldn’t, not when I’d given my oath to Kett and you both stayed. Poor Tammy,’ he added.

‘You’ll see her soon,’ Nicholas said consolingly. Barak did not answer. I stepped outside again. Smoke was rising from campfires as preparations for dinner began. I thought, So we are together again. To await the great confrontation.

Part Six

DUSSINDALE

Chapter Seventy-three

Early the next morning, a cool day of scudding clouds, we were called to a meeting at the Oak of Reformation. Everyone from the Swardeston camp attended, including Nicholas, Barak and I, Edward and Josephine, Mousy in her arms, Simon, Natty and Goody Everneke.

The mood was serious in the massed ranks facing the Oak. William Kett and several of the Hundred representatives stood on the platform as Robert Kett stepped to the front and addressed the crowd. His face was stern, but full of resolve.

‘My friends, the hour of reckoning is at hand. My informants within the Earl of Warwick’s camp say he has just reached Intwood, three miles from Norwich – he is staying at one of the houses owned by the Gresham family, the richest merchants in London!’ There were boos and catcalls. Kett smiled.