by Tim Holden
Robert sighed. He had taken some common land, but he was a kinder, more lenient man than Flowerdew and Hobart. Only yesterday, he had given credit to his tenants out of kindness. And if it weren’t for him, the town wouldn’t have an abbey. The comparisons stung.
Fulke folded his arms. Everyone was silent, expectant.
Robert fought to find an argument. He had a full belly, a stocked pantry, animals, houses, farms and a tannery: everything a man needed and then some. He looked at their staring faces. They were a wretched bunch: poor, helpless folk, uneducated and with no hope of betterment. And they outnumbered him. Robert had been engaged in commerce long enough to know when he was beaten, but there was always something to be gained from even the most hopeless situations.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We’ll do it your way.’ He slid off his horse and walked past them. He was not like Flowerdew, and he was going to prove it. He stopped at the first upright fence post he came to and began to work it back and forth to loosen it. The lattice of branches hanging from it made it too heavy for him to lift out of the ground. He turned and looked at the confused faces of the men who had come to demolish his enclosures. ‘This will go a lot quicker if you men help.’
They looked back at him in disbelief. Then one cheered and then another, and a couple of the men came forward to help Robert wrench his fence post out of the ground. Another clapped him on the back, and he smiled to himself at the comments he could hear among the men. The previously unimaginable sight of an alderman demolishing his own property provoked much hilarity.
Once the first post was dealt with, the gang dispersed to destroy the rest of the fence. The one man who hadn’t helped Robert, and who remained standing and watching, arms folded, was Fulke.
Robert moved to the next post and helped the man who was struggling with it. He pushed again. Damn Flowerdew, he thought. If he could see me now he’d wet his breeches laughing. But as they worked, Robert had mixed emotions. While his fences were wrong and taking them down felt cathartic, the thought of it being prompted by Flowerdew was sickening. The news would be round all of Wymondham by nightfall, and Robert pictured Flowerdew celebrating with a jug of wine.
When they were done, he surveyed the tangle of posts and branches that had once been his fence. He had proved his difference from Flowerdew and at least partially cleared his conscience. Now it was time to get even. Robert beckoned a nearby man to help him mount his horse. Two men stepped forward with their clasped hands as footholds. Once settled on the horse’s bare back, he addressed Fulke’s gang.
‘I was wrong to take this common.’ The men cheered at this admission and Robert waited for them to stop before he continued: ‘I thank you for allowing me to put my error right. Now what say you we go one step further?’
The men looked puzzled.
‘Who will follow me back to Hethersett and help me tear down Flowerdew’s fences?’
No one spoke. The men exchanged glances.
‘I will.’ It was John Robertson who had broken the silence. Another cheer rippled through the gang. Even Fulke’s face wore a brief smile. Robert turned his horse towards Hethersett, and the men fell in behind.
Hours later, as the sun slid beneath the distant horizon, Robert dusted his hands together. John Flowerdew’s fences lay in tatters at his feet, and his sheep roamed free. Robert himself had lost one common, but Flowerdew came out of this far worse. He had paid a bribe and lost both a common and a flock. That was a deal Robert could live with.
As he looked up and thanked God for showing him a way, there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around; the entire gang surrounded him. David Fisher and John Robertson stood too close for his liking. For a second he feared a beating, but before he could find words, they grabbed a leg each and hoisted him on to their shoulders. There was a loud cheer.
Robert’s smile masked the relief he felt. From the crowd someone called out, ‘If more gentlemen were like Mr Kett, England would be the better for it.’ He was surrounded by smiling faces, clapping hands and spirited voices. Robert moved his arms to wipe his eyes and nearly lost his balance. He was lost for words.
Once he had mounted his horse again, Robert addressed the gang. ‘You have earned a drink for your efforts. I hope you’ll go back to the festival and enjoy Flowerdew’s money.’
‘Yes,’ Fulke replied, calmly but loud enough for all to hear. ‘And if anyone brands us criminals, we can say that we are in good company, for the good Mr Kett is one of us.’
Robert gasped at Fulke’s brazenness. ‘How dare you.’
‘We can celebrate, but we might yet face consequences for today’s actions. You only need look at Adam Catchpole’s ears,’ Fulke pointed to a man Robert didn’t recognise with wounded ears, ‘to know that it’s the likes of us who’ll pay the price at the hands of Flowerdew and Hobart.’
Hobart again, thought Robert. Then the penny dropped. ‘So you damaged Hobart’s enclosure as well?’ They hadn’t told him that.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Fulke, looking pleased with himself.
‘You have tricked me.’ Robert’s heart sank. Hobart was renowned for acting with a heavy hand. ‘I had no part in that.’
‘And it won’t take Mr Flowerdew long to work out how we ended up back here,’ said Fulke. He turned to the men he had led. ‘Somebody here will take a beating for today and nobody can blame them for telling tales. But they might go easier on us if they know Mr Kett put us up to it.’
‘But nobody need know,’ said Robert, who knew the moment the words left his lips that rumours of their actions and his involvement would spread like wildfire.
‘As long as we are clear that none of us should escape justice,’ said Fulke. ‘We’re all in it together, aren’t we, Mr Kett?’
Robert gritted his teeth. Flowerdew was a lawyer and would revel in making mischief for him for his part in these disturbances. He calmed himself and began to think over the facts. Flowerdew had bribed them, but he could say the bribe was simply to leave him alone, and his word as a gentleman counted for more than the word of illiterate peasants. Worse still, Flowerdew had not taken Robert’s fences down himself. By joining in the destruction of Flowerdew’s fences, Robert had incriminated himself. He imagined himself in the town pillory, and worse.
Fulke finally broke the silence. ‘Well, if you’re the big alderman, you can get us off, I reckon. We’ll back you up. It will be your word against theirs. If you’re as important as you think, it won’t be a problem.’ He rocked on his feet.
‘This is blackmail, and I’ll have none of it. Nor will I lie.’ Before Fulke could reply, Robert continued: ‘It will soon be dark. We must go.’
The gang followed Robert as he rode at walking pace. The silence was tense and sombre. Every so often, Robert drew his horse to a halt to let the tired commoners catch up. He felt calmer but no less uncomfortable. The threat of Flowerdew’s revenge gnawed away at him. As they approached Wymondham he could see that the mood of the men had lightened as their thoughts turned to their evening’s entertainment, but the confrontation between himself and Fulke was unresolved.
Fulke still looked indignant. He was a strong-willed man, clever too. Robert didn’t like him but knew that he had to engage with him.
‘Mr Fulke, can we speak?’ he said.
Fulke looked up, then moved forward. Together they moved ahead of the group.
‘You seem eager to clash with me,’ said Robert. ‘Have I offended you?’
‘No more than any man in your position,’ said Fulke.
‘Why so?’
‘I see through you. You will ride off tonight, back to your big home, your stocked dairy, your barn full of grain, your purse full of coins, but for us nothing has changed. You might reclaim the common, or you might not. But we will wake tomorrow and be no better off.’
Robert frowned. He had worked long and hard for everything he had and was offended by Fulke’s attitude, but arguing with him would resolve nothing. ‘Then what would you have me do?�
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‘You must continue what you have started. I fear you will betray what you have promised today.’
‘I have promised you nothing, Fulke.’
‘I disagree. You’ve offered these men hope, and I wager they will be denied it. All that awaits them is a flogging.’
Fulke was right, but Robert disagreed all the same. ‘On the contrary, I have offered them nothing. It is you who has led them a merry dance, destroying people’s property. It is you who has led them astray.’
Fulke was calm. He didn’t look up as he walked. ‘As have you.’
Robert was about to question Fulke’s respect for his authority but checked himself. There was more to Fulke than met the eye. He was sharp and would speak persuasively if given the stand at a trial.
Fulke was thinking along the same lines. ‘I’m certain it will all be resolved in the hundred court. Your peers, twelve good men, will judge for themselves.’
A trial was the last thing Robert wanted. As a landowner he would gather no sympathy from a jury. He might bribe his way clear, but his reputation and his family name would be sullied. He had somehow to make sure he didn’t end up in court.
As they approached an oak tree, a pigeon fled its nest. Robert watched the bird flap noisily into the fading early evening sky. Robert stopped his horse beneath the tree. ‘Fulke, I fear I may have misjudged you. If in the future I can restore some of the hope you say I offered, will you support me?’
Fulke looked up at Robert and, after several seconds, nodded guardedly.
When the others caught up, Robert spoke. ‘I am now going to leave you. Tonight you will drink and celebrate, but your problems will be waiting for you in the morning. I thank Mr Fulke here for reminding me that I can do something about the injustices you complain of.’
The men looked expectant.
‘Tomorrow I am due to pay the Mayor of Norwich a visit. I will tell him of your grievances and demand that, as one of the most powerful men in the county, he must act to stop this wanton destruction.’ If Robert had thought the peasants would be impressed, it didn’t show on their faces. ‘Mayor Codd is an honest and fair man, with the power to resolve disputes.’
Robert was going to see the mayor anyway, and by relaying the grievances of the men of Wymondham, he hoped he might be able to extricate himself from the dispute. But if things escalated and he did find himself in head-to-head conflict with Flowerdew, then who better to have on his side than the Mayor of Norwich?
He would think it through more clearly overnight, but for now it was important to take the initiative. If he played Flowerdew at his own game, he was beaten before he started. But if he could use his connections to make the conflict more than just a petty local squabble then he might turn the tables in his favour. He might even be able to position himself as the man to resolve such troubles.
‘I shall petition the mayor and ask that he puts our complaints to the king if he sees fit. No longer must rich men like myself simply take what they desire.’
There was silence. Robert knew the lord protector was not sympathetic to enclosure. If the complaints could be brought to his attention, perhaps something could be done.
‘God bless you, Mr Kett,’ said John Robertson. ‘This means a lot to me. With your blessing, I’d like to come with you.’
Robert shook his head. ‘I don’t think the mayor would appreciate uninvited visitors, John.’
‘Then how do we know you’ll keep your word?’ asked Fulke.
‘Because I have given it.’
‘What is the word of a rich man worth? A fart in an alehouse?’
‘I don’t–’
‘You’ll run off to Norwich, and we’ll be rounded up,’ said Fulke. ‘Let us come with you. Let us tell the mayor in our own words. What have you to fear?’
The men surrounding Robert looked at him with expectation. He rubbed his brow. He was tiring of this game. ‘It is late, and I have offered to help you,’ he said. ‘You will have to settle for that for now.’
‘You will betray us.’ Fulke stared at Robert. ‘Help us, or we’ll make life difficult for you.’
Robert felt the menace in the man’s voice. What was he capable of? Ambushing him? Stealing his sheep? Torching his house? Robert didn’t want to find out.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Meet me here tomorrow. The mayor will be glad to hear from you himself.’ Robert drew some comfort from the smiles and nods of assent around him. The mayor might not appreciate the unexpected visitors, but if their presence made the complaints more real and shifted some of the responsibility from his shoulders, then so be it.
‘You swear on your soul you’ll be here?’ asked Fulke.
Robert nodded. As the men cheered his name, he turned his mare toward home and wondered what he had got himself into.
9
It was approaching early evening. Alfred had walked the short distance from Mr Kett’s house to Wymondham and was waiting in the marketplace for Fulke to return. He hoped his absence had gone unnoticed. He would have to see his friend again at some point and, more importantly, he needed to claim his share of Flowerdew’s bribe. But why weren’t they back yet? Had something gone wrong?
As the sky began to darken, the town watchman lit the beacons at the corners of the marketplace. Then Alfred heard men singing. He watched from behind the market cross as Fulke led his followers into the Rose & Thorn.
A few moments later he followed them in, opening the low wooden door and creeping in like a mouse wary of the cat. The alehouse was packed. Amid the familiar hot, damp smell of beer and sweat, Alfred caught a waft of burning fat from the tallow candles. Over the din of chatter and laughter a solitary musician struggled to make his lute heard.
Across the room he glimpsed David Fisher, in conversation with Luke Miller. Alfred pushed through the crowd. ‘David, what happened?’
Luke winked at David and left the conversation.
‘Ah, the vanishing man!’
Alfred shivered.
‘Mysteriously, Mr Kett came and met us . . .’
‘And?’ asked Alfred nervously.
‘Relax. It was an extraordinary afternoon. Kett got off his horse and pulled down his own fences.’
Alfred frowned. That made no sense.
‘Then he rode with us back to Hethersett, and we pulled down Flowerdew’s fences!’ David grinned and gulped down a mouthful of ale.
Alfred wondered whether he’d misheard. ‘Flowerdew’s fences?’
‘Flowerdew’s fences.’
‘He won’t like that.’
‘No, indeed. As Fulke reminded Mr Kett afterwards.’
As Alfred tried to take in the news, he looked around the dimly lit room. All he could hear was chatter about the day’s events. The mood was as good as he had seen it. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and squeezed hard.
It was Fulke. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ he demanded.
Alfred wanted to reply, but no words came.
‘Tell me, Alfred, how did old man Kett find us, and why were you nowhere to be seen?’
There was nothing Alfred could say that would make it seem different to what it was. He pursed his lips and stayed silent.
‘Come outside.’
Fulke pushed Alfred to the back of the room and through a door into an alley. As the door flew open they startled a cat scavenging for scraps.
Fulke pressed Alfred hard against the wall. In the dying light Alfred could see the menace in the older man’s eyes.
Fulke jabbed a stumpy finger against Alfred’s chest. ‘Tell me why I shouldn’t break your nose.’
‘Fulke–’
‘Listen. We’re in trouble for today, but it turns out your disappearing act did us a favour.’
Alfred squirmed.
‘Mr Kett come down on our side. With him, we have a chance to show we won’t take it any more.’
‘But, Fulke–’
‘Shut up.’ Fulke pressed his finger harder into the top of Alfr
ed’s ribs. ‘We need to show we won’t be pushed around.’
Alfred winced as Fulke’s finger dug in harder. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because it will overshadow me roughing up Morris. If everybody gets their common back, our offences are justified and forgotten. If they don't, then Kett is the first to face justice.’
Alfred nodded.
The door to the alehouse creaked open. Luke Miller leant against the doorframe, looking out into the alleyway. ‘Lads, let’s not have any trouble. No sense in fighting amongst ourselves.’
‘We’re now coming back in,’ said Fulke.
Luke returned indoors, and Alfred breathed a sigh of relief.
‘I need to know you are on my side, Alfred, and I swear to God, if you betray me again, I’ll gut you. Understand?’
Alfred nodded again.
‘Say it,’ demanded Fulke.
‘I am . . . on your side.’
‘Lucky for you it worked out this way, but from now on, you do what I tell you. Now get inside and help me whip up some trouble.’
Fulke turned and walked back inside, leaving Alfred alone in the dark alley. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and gathered his breath. Perhaps he shouldn’t have warned Robert Kett after all, he thought. Alfred didn’t want a reputation as a man who would tell tales to the gentry.
The door swung open again. Fulke stood in the doorway. ‘Get in here.’ Alfred followed.
‘Fulke,’ he said
‘What?’ Fulke was looking away from Alfred, scanning the room.
Alfred looked down. ‘Can I have my share of Flowerdew’s money?’
Fulke’s head swung around. ‘You’ve got some cheek.’
Alfred couldn’t bring himself to look Fulke in the eye. Fulke took a step closer.
‘I came to Morley.’
‘We were bribed to pull down Kett’s fences, remember? Where were you?’
‘Forget it,’ said Alfred. He could see Fulke was in no mood to give way.
‘No. No, I won’t forget it. Where were you?’
‘Keep the money. It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does. It matters that I can trust you, Alfred. Deserters don’t get paid.’
