by Tim Holden
‘I don't know,’ said Alfred. ‘After her father was killed, she left the camp. Most likely she has returned home.’
‘Her father is dead and you, her husband, have left her?’
Alfred’s temper flared. ‘She was the most poisonous creature I ever met. I am not her husband. I was tricked — our marriage is annulled.’
‘Who by?’
Alfred hesitated. ‘By me.’
‘Poppycock. Alfred, you took vows before God. If you have a case to plead, then make it.’
‘I will.’
‘Good. Then the church can decide your fate, not you.’
‘Fine.’
Alfred waited to be dismissed. Instead, Mrs Kett stared at him, reminding Alfred of how his mother used to evaluate him when he’d been naughty.
He walked past Mrs Kett and opened the kitchen door to allow some fresh air in.
Mrs Kett passed sentence. ‘Alfred, you have one week to get your marriage annulled. If not, you must return to your wife.’
Who does she think she is? A magistrate? I work for her husband, not her, Alfred thought, how dare she threaten me? He opened his mouth, ready to give her the full weight of his opinion.
‘If not, I will tell Tiniker the full truth of your indiscretions.’ She left the kitchen.
‘Bitch,’ muttered Alfred to himself.
He spent the rest of the morning emptying chamber pots, sweeping the house, fetching water and skinning rabbits for the pot. People moved through the house conducting their business, visiting Mr Kett, but Alfred was too preoccupied to notice. All morning, his brain had been working on how to escape the curse of Lynn and save his relationship with Tiniker. He doubted he even had a relationship with Tiniker. If she found out he’d been lying, then whatever chance there was of winning her heart would vanish; she wasn't the sort of girl to tolerate lies. Not even lies with good intention.
The more he went over the matters in his mind, the more the simplest solution seemed the best. He’d worked hard for the Kett's, and hadn't always been treated well, thrown in sewage, thrown in a cell and later made to clean it. He’d depended on his job at the tannery for his survival. He’d dreamed of making a success of it, especially since Master Peter’s death. Now, so many had died that work would be easier to find. Faced with the choice of losing his job or his true love, the answer was simple. Tiniker won every time. He made up his mind: He would desert the Ketts.
Just after midday, Alfred was lighting the bread oven when Mr Kett appeared in the kitchen, looking preoccupied. He announced he was hungry after a busy morning.
‘There are some dried herrings left,’ said Alfred pointing to the crate on the shelf.
Robert helped himself and sat at the table, chewing on the fish. An uncomfortable silence hung in the room.
Luke Miller arrived, looking worried. ‘Robert, I bring news.’
Robert wiped his hands on a piece of linen. ‘Good or bad?’
‘Bad. An army has left London. They will be in Cambridge by nightfall.’
Alfred’s ears pricked up. He glanced over his shoulder as Luke sat down opposite Robert. Alfred carried on arranging the kindling in the door of the oven.
Robert said nothing.
‘They’ve recruited fighting men from Essex, all the lords that remain loyal to the king.’
‘How many?’ asked Robert.
Alfred could hear the fear in his master’s voice.
‘Thousands: reports vary between ten and twenty.’
The door opened. It was William.
‘The army is headed for us, much larger than before,’ said Luke bringing William up to speed. ‘We have, at most, two days.’
Alfred placed three tankards on the table, and the three men sat in silence. Robert’s eyes were closed.
‘They are led by John Dudley, the Earl of Warwick,’ continued Luke. ‘They have cannon, cavalry, powder, guns and men at arms. He is the finest soldier in the realm.’
The Kett brothers exchanged a knowing look. Robert rubbed his eyes, resting the weight of his head in his hand.
‘Robert, I think you should give serious thought to surrendering.’
Robert’s head snapped up. ‘You’re a contrary bastard, Luke. You were one of those goading me on from the start.’
‘What I meant was, seek terms with Dudley…’
‘Luke,’ interrupted William, ‘thank you, truly. Now please be kind enough to leave my brother and me in peace.’
Luke hesitated. ‘But…’
‘We’ll send for you shortly. Just a moment’s peace, if you’d be so kind.’
Luke looked disappointed but left the table.
Tears appeared on Robert’s cheeks.
‘Come, brother,’ said William gripping his shoulder, ‘remember the words of the preacher. This is but another problem which we must overcome. God must test his subjects. There will be an answer, but we must remain calm with clear-headed thoughts.’
‘Alfred if you’d be kind enough to leave us, find some work elsewhere. We need some time alone,’ said William.
‘Of course. Goodbye.’
Alfred left the room. I doubt if you’ll ever see me again, he thought to himself.
46
24th August, Norwich Castle
From the castle rooftop, Robert observed the royal army amassing less than a mile beyond the city wall. He’d given up trying to count the lines of neatly pitched white tents.
‘What do you intend to do?’ asked Steward.
Robert glanced at William. ‘We wait.’
He wiped the sweat of his brow. Today looked to be the hottest day of the summer, with not a cloud in the sky.
‘Robert, you might be wise to make the first move. Show some goodwill, and get Dudley on your side,’ suggested Mayor Codd.
‘We’ll look desperate,’ replied William.
They were desperate.
Robert was unsure how many men he could field. His system of elected representatives had broken down or splintered into factions. Some had been killed, others deserted, anxious about their harvests, some exasperated by Robert’s desire for a peaceful solution. Fortunately for Robert, many people still felt aggrieved at their treatment by their lords, and many feared seeing them again once this was over. Those that had been captured would threaten reprisals and those that had evaded capture would be no less forgiving. Whatever the true state of rebel minds, so far as the army outside were concerned, they needed to appear calm, in control, and able to carry on indefinitely.
The army had arrived shortly before sunset last night. It had camped on the London road, thereby blocking any supplies from the southern approach to reach the city. Rumours about their strength varied, but Robert’s spies had counted fifteen hundred cavalry and anything up to another eight thousand infantry. This time the sides were far better matched than when he’d faced down Parr’s army of fifteen hundred. Parr’s defeated soldiers had been seen in Cambridge and had no doubt been absorbed into Dudley’s army.
Robert had seen enough. The only consolation at seeing his quarry was that after five days of planning and talking about nothing else, there would be no more dreading their arrival.
Robert tried to reassure himself it was a game of cat and cat but wasn’t convinced. He’d felt like an actor waiting in the wings. He’d learned his lines, and thankfully it was finally time to perform. His nerves would calm once he stepped on stage. Only William knew his plan. They had come this far and only ever been victorious. They were on home ground, and they had right on their side, and therefore God.
‘Mayor Codd, I have a task for your supervision,’ said Robert.
The mayor looked apprehensive.
‘Our prisoners are mostly housed in this castle. Any gentlemen are to be taken in their chains and kept at Surrey House out of harm’s way. Any men prepared to take up arms against the soldiers are to be released.’
‘But they have been declared a danger to the community?’ said a disbelieving Mayor Codd.
Robert knew he would never be afforded a pardon himself. The prisoners were his final bargaining chip. He turned his attentions to the deputy mayor.
‘Steward, when they approach, you will go on my behalf. You are to tell them Norwich is defended by men with no regard for anybody’s welfare, including their own, and any attempt to enter the city will be repulsed by overwhelming force.’ Robert continued, ‘If his lordship will promise to end enclosure, then I will send my rebels home, and in exchange, I will offer them the man who killed Lord Sheffield so he may face justice.’
Steward looked surprised at that revelation. The deputy mayor liked to think of himself as somebody who knew all there was to know.
‘Those are my terms, and I will entertain nothing else.’
‘Understood,’ replied Steward.
Negotiating with Dudley would prove the most important task: Mayor Codd was no good under pressure. He was scared of his own shadow and would be keen to exonerate himself. In Robert’s mind, this made him liable to muddle the negotiations. Steward was more capable and had, to date, made good on all his promises. Robert reckoned the deputy mayor could be relied on to favour Norwich’s, and thereby his own, survival.
What the city needed most was peaceful negotiation.
Steward would take or advise whatever action was necessary to stop violence. On that point, Robert could be certain they were of same mind.
‘Stay within sight of the gates. I want them to see our forces posted to the city walls and the gatehouses.’
Steward went to take his leave.
‘Oh, and Steward,’ added Robert as he was leaving, ‘get it wrong, and you’ll never step foot in this city again.’
*
John Dudley kicked his stallion into a trot, leaving the comfort of Intwood Hall and his host for the night, Sir Thomas Gresham, behind. Never one for camping on campaign, he’d opted to stay a mile behind his forces. He’d slept soundly in the four-poster bed and hadn’t been interrupted.
‘What a fine day for putting down a rebellion.’
William Parr rode beside him, looking less enthusiastic. After his previous experience, he didn’t appear to be relishing another fight with Kett.
Dudley thought otherwise.
The cocky Marquis of Northampton was still berating himself for his defeat. Dudley had suffered defeats of his own in the past. If you were lucky enough to survive, you had to endure them and learn the lessons for next time. Some commanders never recovered from a botched first attempt in charge, but Dudley assured Parr that Seymour had set him up to fail. With so few men, he could never have succeeded. He’d offered Parr a chance to redeem himself as his second in command, and Parr was ambitious, so had agreed. Dudley’s only condition had been that Parr swear to support him in the council.
It was war with France that had tipped the balance.
When Seymour had informed the council that he intended to take an army to Norfolk, they pulled rank. How could Seymour ride around the country singlehandedly quelling every rebellion of public disturbance when France threatened to invade at any moment? The whole commotion had played into Dudley’s hands. Exiled in his castle at Warwick, the council had demanded Seymour recall him. The realm’s most experienced commander couldn’t be left to rot while the country slipped into ever-deeper peril. Dudley knew this was his moment, and he planned on seizing it with both hands. Seymour had lost the confidence of the council. Without the support of the gentry, he was there for the toppling. The stage was set. Only Robert Kett stood in his way.
When Dudley reached the camp, he ordered the herald brought to his tent. The herald stood in front of Dudley and listened to his instructions. He repeated them back and left for Norwich for the third time this summer. The earl was at pains to remind him to ignore Kett. ‘The man can’t lead if we won’t acknowledge his authority.’
*
The herald’s horse wore his usual coat of the king’s quarters.
‘We meet again, herald,’ said Steward.
The two men met outside the main city gate. Steward had walked far enough out of the city gate to be clear of earshot of the ranks of rebels posted to the gate and walls. This time none of Norwich’s inhabitants clambered for a sight of the waiting army. They knew trouble lay ahead.
The herald returned Steward’s greeting. He held his chin high, suggesting he accepted no responsibly for events. ‘I demand your surrender.’
Steward sighed. ‘As you know, personally, I am not in opposition to you. I am merely a mouthpiece for others.’
‘As am I.’
‘Then you’ll understand I am not in a position to grant the surrender of others.’ Steward could hear the frustration in his own voice. The herald was one of those people who got under your skin without trying. His effeminate voice and his manner were condescending. Steward reminded himself to be calm. ‘Let’s get this over with, shall we? What are your terms?’
‘Total surrender. Kett’s capture. Yours?’
‘Promise to end enclosure, and the rebels will stand down.’
‘Not possible.’
‘Then God forbid man, you’ll be raising the curtain on a scene of devastation and bloodshed. In future, the taxes raised from this city won’t amount to anything. We won’t be able to fund our part in your wars,’ Steward went on. ‘What’s more, you’ll create a generation of enemies opposed to Seymour, the king too. Is that what your master wants?’
‘My master wants Kett’s head on a plate.’
‘And do you think he’s just going to walk out into the welcoming arms of an army? Let me speak to your master.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’
‘Why not? Is he worried we might actually be able to sort this out peacefully?’
‘His worries are his own private matter.’
‘Go back and tell your master this: Kett says end enclosure or fight. But pay attention to what I say. I know Kett, and I have agency within his camp. Tell your master he’s a coward and will do anything to avoid a fight. Which is what we all want, isn’t it? Offer a pardon and end enclosure, and your work here is done.’
The herald smiled. ‘Mr Steward, The Earl of Warwick will look favourably on you for your information, thank you.’ He pulled his reins and kicked his horse.
The church bells would toll ten before the herald returned from the army’s camp.
This time he brought two other men on horseback. One was a soldier, carrying a brace of handguns. A bodyguard, Steward presumed. The other was a trumpeter.
‘Mr Steward, sir, the people shall have their pardon and God willing, your city be spared the wrath of John Dudley, this country’s finest soldier.’
Steward couldn’t hide his delight.
‘Take me to the rebels,’ the herald demanded.
Steward led the three horses through the gates under the watchful eyes of rebels above. They made their way through the city and gathered in their wake a following of rebels curious to hear the herald’s proclamation. Steward left the herald and his horsemen outside Tiniker’s house by the bridge leading to the rebel camp. That was as far as Steward was willing to go. Having been to the camp on numerous occasions, he had no desire to be amongst the men that had vandalised his home. Besides, this was the herald’s message, and Steward didn’t need to be seen to endorse it. He hadn’t enquired further to the nature of the royal concessions, but all they had to do was issue a pardon and promise to end enclosure. As he walked back to his house, against the tide of people following the herald, Steward felt a sense of hope that this would all be over soon.
*
Alfred had been trying his arm out of its sling when he heard the procession outside Tiniker’s house. The herald rode past the window. For Alfred, the return of the herald was good news. He’d wanted to leave the Ketts, but Tiniker had pleaded with him to stay. He couldn’t understand why she was so keen for him to
be involved with them, but she seemed to prefer being at Surrey House to being in her own home. Reluctantly, he’d stayed on. She’d rewarded his loyalty, kissing him with a passion he’d never experienced. It was if her life depended on it. Alfred wasn’t going to argue. He could have kissed her all night, but she’d been worried that Margreet might discover them, so they’d stopped.
And since, she’d looked even more beautiful.
Tomorrow was the day he was supposed to have his marriage annulled. Otherwise, Alice would tell Tiniker about Lynn. Alfred had lain awake at night, his mind torturing him. Their relationship would be in tatters. He cursed himself for lying, but he could never have told the truth either. Alfred was trapped in the web of his own mistruths.
Getting his marriage annulled wasn’t as simple as it sounded. It meant walking to Wymondham, convincing Lynn to accept his terms, convincing the pastor the annulment was legitimate and the marriage never consummated, despite Lynn claiming to be pregnant. The pastor would turn to Flowerdew for guidance, who Alfred suspected would, in turn, likely demand the return of his cottage, which meant he wouldn’t be able to use it to bribe Lynn. Even if he managed to successfully annul the marriage. How would he account his vanishing for three days to Tiniker? Whichever way he looked at it, it wasn’t going to work. His hopes of saving his love for Tiniker rested on the rebellion coming to an end so he could escape Kett’s influence.
‘Let’s go outside and see what’s going on.’
Tiniker shouted to Margreet upstairs to stay indoors. She had a habit of keeping out of the way when Alfred visited. They stepped into the morning sun, joined the throng of people, and Alfred held Tiniker’s hand as they were swept along. Alfred caught a glimpse of John Cooper’s red hair amongst the crowd. He was using the stave of his longbow as a staff. As Alfred looked around, he noticed more weapons amongst the bodies: a glint of a steel blade, a flash of a sickle, a glance of an axe head. He kept an eye out for Fulke. He was likely to be amongst the crowd. He hadn’t seen his friend since clattering him over the head. Tiniker wouldn’t take kindly to seeing her assailant up close again either.
