by Tim Holden
Mayor Codd nodded.
Flowerdew sprung to attention. ‘There are people, in the marketplace, five of them.’
‘Ours or theirs?’ asked the mayor.
‘Not sure.’
‘It’s hard to tell whose side people are on, mayor,’ said Steward, looking at the herald.
‘Wait, there’s more,’ reported Flowerdew.
Mayor Codd joined him at the window. Outside, streams of men poured into the marketplace. Yelling and waving their weapons in the air as they gathered around the market cross. More joined them from the side streets.
Watching their numbers swell, the mayor tried not to sound perturbed. ‘It’s the rebels. They’re in.’
He now watched one of the rebels outside, point towards the guildhall, and his companion looked in their direction.
‘Hang on to your heads, gentlemen, the mob are coming,’ said Flowerdew.
The mayor’s heart thumped in his chest. He turned to the chamberlain and double-checked, ‘Is the entranceway locked?’
‘Yes, your grace. And barred.’
‘Herald, our city has fallen. What would your king propose we do now?’ said Mayor Codd, unable to conceal his anger.
‘My king, is he not your king also?’ replied the herald.
‘Take a look out of this window, you see for yourself what you’ve done.’
Banging came from downstairs.
‘Gentlemen, they are at the door,’ said the chamberlain.
Mayor Codd walked around the table and stood opposite the herald, his hand outstretched, inviting the herald to take charge.
The herald remained where he was.
‘It’s your city, mayor. I have no precedence here.’
The banging on the door below grew louder.
‘I doubt very much that I do now, thanks to you.’
Flowerdew reported from the window, ‘Hundreds of them. We’re overrun.’
There was a loud smash. Shards of broken glass flew across the room. They all jumped. A sickle hung in the broken window, its blade caught in the lead of the diamond panes. Mayor Codd made the sign of the cross.
Below, the door started to creak.
30
The soldier swayed on his feet. Robert looked down the length of his sword, its point waving back and forth like a cat’s tail and refused the soldier’s invitation to fall to his knees. The soldier swung his sword, but he missed, lost his balance and fell to the floor. Robert trod on the sword blade, pinning it under his foot. The injured soldier, his red and yellow tunic coated in brick dust, appeared to give up.
He had nothing left.
‘You killed my friends. You ought to die,’ he slurred.
Robert stood over the soldier and held out his arms like a preacher. ‘If I’d died, would it appease these people’s concerns?’
The soldier groaned. ‘They’re dead. Because of you. You’re a coward.’
Robert nodded. ‘It sickens me that we live in a time when slaughter is necessary just so the ordinary man can be heard. A time when the fortunate few treat the common folk with such contempt. If you’d have killed me, there would be ten thousand angry people ready to take my place.’
The soldier closed his eyes. ‘Then make sure you win, Kett. So this slaughter wasn’t in vain.’
‘Come on, Robert, we haven’t got time for this,’ said William as he picked up his fallen sword.
The brothers walked up Bishopsgate side by side.
William spoke, ‘From now on, neither of us travel in this city on our own. We’re targets.’
Robert agreed. It dawned on him now, that in his quest to preserve the freedom of others, he had sacrificed his own.
They walked through the city, Robert working through in his head what he would say when he addressed his followers. The hard earth streets were quiet and deserted. An occasional broken window, a few arrows protruding from various walls, a dropped bow on the ground, were the only evidence of the fighting that had taken place. Down side streets they could hear small isolated scuffles as their forces took out their revenge on the defenders. The city streets narrowed as they approached the centre. In the area known as Tombland they passed a small party of rebels relieving a baker’s shop of its bread. Such infractions were now inevitable. They had to concentrate on legitimising their control. As they neared the marketplace, they could hear the din of a mass of people. The victors were singing and chanting. The air buzzed with a mixture of elation and anger.
Pray, Mayor Codd is still alive, thought Robert.
Making their way into the crowds, pushing past people, the brothers found themselves in the impressive marketplace full of country folk, enclosed by three-storey timber buildings. Their pointed rooftops encircled the marketplace like the teeth of a dragon. The market stalls had been cleared of their produce. Some tipped over and scattered. Beyond the stalls loomed the church of St Peter Mancroft.
‘Kett is here,’ a voice rang out.
A moment later, he was met by a sea of smiling faces. His back was slapped, he was thanked, his arms held up for him. As the hysteria mounted, he felt himself lifted from the floor, his legs perched on the shoulders of two men he’d never met. He fought to keep his balance, briefly managing a wave, surrounded by a sea of faces. Amongst the thousands he glimpsed Alfred, Fulke, Anders Marshwell, others from dining room meetings and home in Wymondham. He felt like a conquering general as they carried him towards the porch of the guildhall. The grand knapped-flint building stood proud in the northwest corner of the marketplace. It was narrow like the nave of a church with windows to match. Its roof finished with crenulations giving it the pomp of a castle, to show off the city’s strength and authority despite having its windows smashed, besieged by his mob.
In front, the crowds cleared a path,
‘Make way for the great Mr Kett,’ somebody shouted. ‘Long live Kett. Kett for King. Kett, Kett, Kett.’
Robert gestured for silence, nearly losing his balance in the process. He had to grab the heads of those who carried him and a ripple of laughter spread through the nearby ranks.
‘I think I better get down, my friend.’
They lowered him to the ground. ‘Mr Kett, an honour to carry you, sir. You’re a man as great as you are heavy!’
Robert laughed. ‘Thank you, both.’
He arranged his clothing and turned to see William pushing his way through the crowd to join him. The people fell silent and stepped aside from the guildhall door.
Robert knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked again.
‘Is anybody home?’
Another wave of anxious laughter spread through the massed rebel.
The lock clanked.
The door creaked.
An ashen-faced Mayor Codd stood in the doorway. A chorus of boos and hisses erupted from Robert’s followers.
When they subsided, Robert spoke. ‘Hello, Thomas. I believe this belongs to me now.’
The rebel cheers reverberated through the marketplace.
‘Then you’d better come in,’ said the mayor, his trembling hand betraying his fear.
As he entered a few onlookers outside hissed with disapproval. Robert hesitated, unsettled by their reaction. He didn’t want to conduct these negotiations in public. He continued and closed the door behind him, leaving William to keep order outside. The chorus of boos, jeers and demands for justice faded to the background.
‘Thomas, we haven’t long. Keep that lot waiting, and they’ll pull this building down.’
‘Very well, Robert. What do you propose?’
‘Who’s here?’
‘Most of the council have fled. The bishop has left. Steward’s here. The king’s herald is still here. You could make some use of him?’
‘Good idea. I’m afraid you will have to show your face, mayor. It was you we came to see in the first place.’
‘Robert, why? What do you hope to gain?’ The mayor’s fears were clear to see.
‘I’ll go easy on you, Thoma
s, but I can’t promise my followers will do the same. They aren’t the most obedient lot. Nevertheless, fetch the herald and everyone else here. I want all of you outside.’
‘Robert, please, we’ll be lynched.’
‘Don’t argue with me, Thomas, or I’ll lynch you myself. Outside now. Everyone,’ barked Robert.
‘Ok, ok. I will. Just remember, Robert, you are now responsible for what happens here,’ the mayor reminded him.
‘Then what would you suggest?’
‘With the Sheriff ill, we’ll need the cooperation of the justice of the peace and his watchmen. Especially after dark.’
‘I agree. Get it done.’
A startled expression passed across the mayor’s face before he did as he was told and made his way up the staircase to fetch the others.
The crowd cheered as Robert opened the door. ‘Clear some space, plenty of room, move back,’ he ordered.
Moments later the crowd roared at the sight of the mayor sheepishly making his way out of the guildhall, followed by a defiant-looking deputy mayor, Steward, who Robert knew of, but had never had occasion to meet. Next to file out was the herald. The sight of his royal quartered robes prompted a renewed welcome of boos from the onlookers. Then an official man in robes, who Robert didn’t recognise. Just when he thought that was everybody, another man appeared at the door. Robert couldn’t believe his eyes. Ginger hair and a fox-like face. It was him. Flowerdew.
I’ve got you, you rat, thought Robert rubbing his hands together.
‘William, look what the cat’s dragged in.’
William rested his weight against the hilt of the sword.
‘Now’s not the time to deal with him, Robert. Remember our aims.’
The men of the guildhall stood shoulder-to-shoulder facing the victorious mob who taunted and spat at them.
Robert approached them, then turned to address his followers. He caught a glimpse of Fulke, next to him, Alfred. Pushing his way to the front was John Bossell.
Trust Bossell to have made it through unharmed.
A few rows back he recognised the face of Miles, the gunner. A bonus. He couldn’t see Master Peter. Then he saw Luke Miller, his face spattered in blood. Many of this lot will have lost friends and family today, thought Robert. If I leave them here, reprisals will run through the night.
He clapped his hand and raised his voice.
‘A fortnight ago I came here in peace to see the mayor. They,’ signalling his captives behind him, ‘closed the city. They refused to talk.’ Boos and hisses. ‘Well, they’ll talk to me now!’ A cheer ran through the crowd. ‘Men, I thank you for the sacrifice you have made today. We came here in peace, and it is to peace that we must now return.’ The crowd fell silent. ‘This man here was sent by the king,’ said Robert pointing to the herald. ‘Today he will return to the king, and tell him we have rescued his city from the corruption and greed of his officials.’ More cheers. ‘He may have it back,’ continued Robert, ‘when his government accept our demands.’ A roar sounded across the marketplace. Applause broke out, and people started singing Robert’s name.
Robert grinned as the chant of Kett, Kett, Kett spread like fire in a barley field.
‘To rescue the king’s city,’ said the herald in his effeminate voice, ‘and attach conditions to its safe return, is to hold it to ransom in the eyes of the law.’
The people at the front spat and cursed him. William had to raise his sword to stop two burly men from pressing forward.
What is it with this fool? Robert thought.
‘You,’ said Robert, turning to point at him ‘Are the cause of all this trouble.’ More cheers. ‘Herald, you will ride to London without delay. Our message is simple: the city in return for our demands.’
Cheers once more. The herald blew air from tired lips. Robert raised his eyebrows and opened his arms, gesturing at the crowd behind him.
The herald nodded his acquiescence. Cheers and clapping now merged with taunts and jeers.
‘If you disband, you may still be pardoned,’ called out the herald.
His suggestion was met by a chorus of boos.
‘Enough,’ snapped Robert. He beckoned for Fulke to come over. ‘Take this fool indoors before he gets himself killed.’
Fulke nodded. He grabbed the herald by the arm. When the herald resisted, he was met with a punch to his ribs, which was enough to persuade him to return to the safety of the guildhall. Once the crowd’s laughter subsided, a man shouted, ‘How can we trust him?’
Robert didn’t have an answer for that.
‘He’ll lie!’ shouted another,
‘Kill him, that will show the bastards we mean business.’
This thirst for revenge was what Robert feared. He grasped the sword from William’s hand and held it aloft towards the heavens.
‘Silence!’ he ordered. ‘The kings of this land have claimed their thrones with trials by battle, victories ordained by God. Well let me tell you that today our victory was a trial by battle. We won, and our cause is ordained by the almighty.’
Roars of approval filled the air.
‘We must offer God our thanks, let us pray. Kneel.’
To a man, the crowd dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Robert breathed a sigh of relief before leading them in prayer.
Amen, he lifted his head.
‘Men,’ he resumed his address, ‘today you have fought for the justice of our cause, and now I must ask one more service of you. Many of our fellow men lay dead and injured on the slopes beneath our camp. Whilst there is still daylight, we must honour their sacrifice and intern their bodies to the ground.’
He swallowed. ‘I ask that each of you return to the scene of our hard-fought victory and lend your hand in preparing the ground for our fallen brothers.’ As the words left his lips, the simple humanity of his request, seemed to him, hard to refuse. Here and there men whispered to each other, but for the most part, he had their attention.
Behind him somebody cleared his throat. ‘Mr Kett.’
Robert turned to find a man in a black gown, his hand raised.
‘If I may,’ he said, ‘I could offer you the services of the city’s barber-surgeons for your injured, and our clergymen, for your fallen?’
‘Thank you, that would be appreciated.’
The man bowed his head. ‘Augustine Steward, Deputy Mayor, at your service, Mr Kett.’
Robert nodded again while observing Mayor Codd’s forehead crease.
Robert faced his followers. ‘I summon the representatives of the hundreds to join me in the guildhall now. Let me make it clear, you will each be responsible for the conduct of the men of your parish.’ The representatives pushed forward. ‘For the rest of you,’ continued Robert, ‘I will have all the ale in this city sent to the heath, and you may toast the departed and celebrate your bravery. Now, please return to the heath and bury our brothers.’
‘What about them?’ called a man, pointing at the captors.
‘They will accompany us to camp, as our prisoners.’
‘And you? What about you? What will you be doing why we bury those who fell because of your plan?’ asked the man again.
William, to Robert’s relief, now stepped in: ‘We must see to it that this time our demands are accepted so that today’s losses are not in vain.’
‘You heard the herald,’ said Robert, pointing his sword in the direction of the guildhall, ‘you’re pardoned. You’re free to leave if you’d prefer?’
‘You want me to leave? After what happened today?’
Robert shook his head. ‘No, but I haven’t risked my neck so you can create merry hell in my name. You go back and start digging a hole, or I’ll have you arrested for disturbing the peace.’
‘How can we trust the herald not to make mischief with the king?’
It was Bossell. It was a fair question.
‘Mr Kett, if I may?’ said Steward, doffing his hat.
Robert nodded, inviting him to continue.
‘I was a member of parliament for some years, and despite what you may think of politicians, some of us are bound by a belief in service. This herald, the one you are now sending to London, has he not made matters worse at every turn?’
Mr Kett thought for a moment, then nodded.
‘I know the council of the king. Send me with him, and I will see that your demands are considered fully.’
‘Why should I trust you?’
‘Because I can make them aware of what is at stake.’
Robert shook his head. ‘If I wanted to do that there is nobody I’d rather send than my own brother.’
Mr Steward appraised William Kett. ‘Indeed. Although he has no knowledge of the men with which he must parley. Indeed, they may take him hostage. An eye for an eye, so to speak.’
The Kett brothers exchanged glances.
The deputy mayor pressed on. ‘Besides, you have a city to run now. You will be responsible for all that happens here under your command, legal or otherwise.’
Mayor Codd came forward. ‘Robert, let me ride to London. I know better than anyone what you seek to gain.’
Robert denied him his request. ‘Mayor Codd, I think I would prefer your assistance here.’ He turned his attention to Steward. ‘Why,’ pointing at him with the sword, ‘should I trust you?’
‘I love this city, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to save it from being destroyed. Because, together, we must do what is necessary to achieve a peaceful outcome.’
‘Mayor Codd, can I trust this man to represent us in London?’ asked Robert.
The mayor hesitated. Steward gave him a small slow nod. The mayor looked uncomfortable. ‘I think, like me, he has only the best interests of the city at heart.’
‘All I seek is peace, Mr Kett. It seems to me that satisfying your demands is the easiest way for us to achieve that.’
‘Very well, you shall accompany the herald to London.’
‘I see you wear a cross around your neck. Take it off and give it to me,’ said Mr Kett, pointing at the deputy mayor.
Steward pulled a gold chain and crucifix over his head and passed it to Robert.
‘Kneel. Swear your loyalty to the people of Norfolk and to ensuring our demands are met.’
