Spirals of Fate

by Tim Holden

  ‘Mr Miller, let us take in the last of this year’s clement weather.’

  Mary dismissed her ladies in waiting, and Luke followed her to the back of the house. Mary stopped so he could open the door to the garden for her.

  ‘It’s so nice to be back home in Norfolk. We may not have the roses for many more days, so we must enjoy the last of them while we still can.’

  Luke followed her outside. The afternoon sun was low, but bright and warm, casting long shadows over the garden.

  ‘Thank heavens for the recent rain, Mr Miller, for without it the garden would look even more dishevelled.’

  Luke agreed, and they exchanged small talk as they walked between the manicured beds of neatly arranged plants and herbs. When they were clear of earshot from the house, Princess Mary turned to meet Luke’s gaze.

  ‘You may have heard that our new friend, John Dudley, has deposed Seymour?’

  ‘Indeed, I have. Do you expect him to be named lord protector? Will he honour his promise of loyalty to you?’

  A brief smile flashed across Mary’s face. ‘We’ll have to see, but by all accounts, Dudley is a man beset by his own self-importance. Once men like him taste power, they’ll do whatever they can to keep it for themselves.’

  ‘Then why back him?’

  ‘There is no one on the council willing to challenge him, which makes him the heir apparent until King Edward comes of age. But, unlike Seymour, Dudley has no blood ties to the king. His loyalty will be no more to Edward than it will me, which is at least a step in the right direction, is it not?’

  Luke nodded. ‘Loyalty is precarious in such ambitious men it seems, Princess Mary?’

  Mary nodded. ‘Indeed. Now speaking of loyalty, I must thank you for yours throughout this, difficult, summer.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Luke, feigning modesty. ‘I merely greased the wheels, a little encouragement to the right people here and there. I fought when I needed to, and neglected my duties when it served your interest to do so.’

  Mary smirked. ‘What’s he like, Kett?’

  ‘Well, if I have one regret, ma’am, it is that the cost of our efforts to restore this realm to Catholicism should be borne by Robert and William Kett. They may have been fools, with delusions of grandeur, ignorant of the game they were really caught up in, but for all that, they were decent men, with honourable intentions to better the lot of their fellow man.’

  ‘They were Protestants though, were they not?’

  ‘Indeed…’

  ‘God will forgive them. For they have been unwittingly doing his work,’ interrupted Mary, placing her hand on Luke’s arm.

  ‘I had persuaded them to negotiate a peace with Dudley, but events rather overtook them.’

  ‘All actors in the Lord’s divine plan.’ Mary stopped to admire a rose, leaning over to smell the flowers’ perfume. ‘Tell me, Luke, have you seen anything as ridiculous as our Tudor rose, with its bastardisation of red and white petals?’

  ‘I fear for me to make such a comment might be considered treason.’

  Princess Mary laughed. ‘Not to my ears, Luke.’

  ‘Your grandfather created to it symbolise the compromise required to bring peace to the warring factions that divided the country.’

  Princess Mary resumed walking. ‘Maybe. But there can only be one faith, one true God. On that we must never compromise. We must continue to agitate.’

  ‘I agree. Cranmer and his poisonous book of common prayer should not be allowed free reign to pollute people’s souls.’

  Mary stopped and turned to Luke. ‘Your father would be very proud of you, Luke Miller.’

  Luke nodded. He preferred not to talk openly about his late father, a staunch catholic, for fear of becoming emotional. ‘It is my pleasure to serve you, Lady Mary. I will forever do your bidding, in whatever small way I can.’

  ‘He was a noble man, your father, a great comfort to my mother and I. A true believer.’ Mary started walking again, running her fingers across the top of the rosemary bush that bordered the lawn. ‘I so wish to right the wrongs of my father, Luke. We must do whatever it takes to bring about the demise of his wicked Church of England, and restore our links with Rome.’

  ‘Let me know how I can assist.’

  ‘Are hopes are in Dudley’s hands, for now.’

  ‘Well my lady, if Dudley gives them any provocation, there is no shortage of people around here, protestant and catholic alike, that would want to give him a bloody nose, for what he did to the Ketts and their rebels.’

  Mary nodded. ‘For now, do what you must to keep it that way. We shall have to wait and see what God has planned next for my little brat of a half-brother. I believe with all my heart, God will punish Edward for his crimes against the true religion.’

  Mary plucked a sprig of rosemary and tossed in into the air. ‘Luke, come pray with me.’

  A beaming smile spread across Luke’s face and his skin prickled with excitement. His small acts of service had led him to the intimacy of sharing prayers, and common cause, with the Princess Mary.

  54

  7th December, Tiniker’s house

  Alfred groaned in pleasure. Tiniker climbed out from under the bed covers and peed in the pot they kept under their bed.

  ‘Do you want a drink, lover?’ she asked. Tiniker ran downstairs to fetch some small beer. Alfred loved nothing more than watching her naked. She looked more beautiful every day. This past week her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed, even her breasts appeared to have swelled. She climbed back into snuggled up to his warmth.

  ‘I need a drink after that,’ grinned Alfred. They only ever had sex in the mornings. Tiniker worked hard all day, so she was too tired come nightfall. Alfred was happy either way. She passed him the beaker of ale. He took a sip and sighed.

  ‘Let me have some. We are celebrating after all.’

  Alfred frowned, ‘Celebrating? What, it being a Saturday?’

  ‘That too.’

  What was she talking about?

  Tiniker propped herself on her elbow. She looked him in the eye. ‘Alfred, I’m pregnant.’

  Alfred’s mouth fell open. No words came out. Unsure what to say, he put some ale in. Tiniker was looking at him expectantly. He recovered from his shock, and a broad smile crept across his face. ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard. Ever.’

  Tiniker looked relieved, excited and little nervous all at once. He leant over and kissed her. She returned his kiss with interest.

  They made love again.

  Alfred felt like the happiest man in England. He could never have known that the rebellion would prove to be the turning point of his life. After everything he’d endured, before it and during it, it had delivered him from Lynn and life in Hethersett. It had brought Tiniker into his life. It had taken him to the verge of death, and since then, Alfred vowed never to waste another day to drunkenness and idleness. He endured a brief ignominy after admitting a treachery that he’d never committed. Despite what others said, his conscience was clear as far as the Ketts were concerned. But it had meant, with nowhere else to go, he been forced to forgive Tiniker. She’d welcomed him into her home. Margreet too.

  Alfred had grown fond of Tiniker’s younger sister. She was simple-minded, but she laughed at his jokes and had a good heart. Tiniker had taught him how to weave, and together they made a new cloth called bombazine. Steward bought everything they could make. They would never be rich, but they didn’t want for anything. They had bread in their bellies, a roof over their head and a warm bed. It felt like nothing could go wrong.

  ‘Alfred?’ Tiniker propped herself up on her elbow again.

  ‘Yes, Tiniker,’ said Alfred laying on his back with eyes closed and his mind numb.

  ‘You do know what this means?’

  ‘What?’ he mumbled.

  ‘We have to get married.’

  Alfred nodded. He hoped he appeared calm, but inside he was in turmoil: he was already married. Bigamy was an offence, that if
discovered, people never recovered from. Alfred pictured himself in church, gazing into Tiniker’s eyes, the pastor reading the bands: ‘Does anybody here know of any reason why these two should not be legally married?’ Alfred shuddered and cleared the thought from his mind. It was too dreadful to contemplate.

  ‘We’ve lived together for three months, and people are starting to talk.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The butcher, Steward, old Elsie next door.’

  She was right.

  They couldn’t go on like this. To be unmarried and living together as man and women, they risked being ostracised. Once it became known they had a child, people could refuse to sell their wares to sinners. What if Steward stopped buying their cloth?

  ‘We must,’ said Alfred, quickly settling on the lesser of the evils. All their parents were dead, so they need not seek any permission. They were free to choose one another.

  ‘I love you, Alfred.’

  Something in her voice suggested there was more to follow that statement. ‘I love you too, Tiniker.’

  ‘If we get married, I will become your property and would be required to obey you in all matters.’

  Alfred smiled, ‘Good isn’t it?’

  ‘Alfred, I’m serious. We may not be equal in the eyes of the land, but under this roof, I never want to be treated as property. I may need your protection, but you will need my love. Margreet and I have had to overcome too much to submit ourselves to become beholden to the whim of a man.’

  Alfred pulled her tight against his ribs. ‘My love, if I’m under this roof with you, that is more than I could ever wish for.’

  She kissed him, letting her lips linger on his. ‘Are you going to ask me then?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Alfred hesitated. Still, what could he do?

  ‘Tiniker, will you marry me?’

  ‘I will.’

  After breakfast they walked up Bishopsgate, past the burned-out houses, into the marketplace. They planned to roast a cut of beef that afternoon to celebrate their engagement.

  Despite it being a Saturday, the market was busier than usual. The church bells rang ten. There was a commotion over by the guildhall. Two horse and carts waited by the door. Alfred held Tiniker’s hand, and they followed the crowds to see what was happening. Mayor Codd and Steward emerged from the guildhall, followed by the Kett brothers, shuffling, their feet in irons and their hands chained together. William was helped into one cart, Robert the other.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Alfred asked the man stood next to him.

  ‘They’re off to meet their makers. Poor bastards. They deserve to be knighted if you ask me. They’re taking William to be hung from Wymondham Abbey.’

  ‘They’re executing him at a church?’

  ‘I know. It’s wrong, but what do you expect from those half-wits in London? Mark my words, lad, they’ll be trouble to come. Maybe not today, but people around here have long memories.’

  ‘What about Robert?’

  ‘They’re taking him to the castle. Doing him here as a reminder to warn people off causing mischief. If you ask me, making a martyr of those boys will have the opposite effect. Those toffs haven’t heard the last of us.’

  They followed the procession to the castle. Robert was helped off the cart and positioned against the cream stone of the castle keep.

  Alfred pushed their way to the front.

  There was a shout from the top of the castle, and a length of rope fell to the ground. Alfred assumed the other end was tied to something on the battlements.

  Tiniker gasped. ‘Look there’s a noose at the end.’

  Alfred put his arm around her, as Robert shivered in the winter cold. A woman ran from the crowd, but she was halted by the justice of the peace.

  It was Alice.

  *

  Robert had promised himself he wouldn’t cry, but his resolve burst. He lifted his manacled hands over her head, and they embraced. He squeezed her so tightly that his hands stopped their trembling. She smelt of herbs, the most heavenly scent he’d experienced in months. Her body shook in his arms, and tears streamed down Robert’s cheeks.

  He’d hugged her at will all his life, but this time she felt as if she were slipping through his fingers. Alice leaned back so their eyes would meet.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Robert. It sounded so feeble. He needed to be stronger for her. ‘I’ll miss you, old mare.’

  Alice wiped the snot from Robert’s nose.

  ‘I love you, Robert Kett.’ Alice gathered herself, but her face remained contorted with pain. ‘I’ve been blessed to have you in my life, and as my husband.’

  Robert squeezed her again. ‘It’s not the best of deaths, but it’s not the worst. I’d choose this over being an aged man slowly succumbing to winter’s freeze.’

  Alice nodded. ‘I’m so proud of you, Robert, for what you did.’

  Robert smiled. ‘But for this, losing you, I’d do it all again tomorrow. I don’t regret any of it. It was the right thing to do, and I’ll meet God with a clear conscience.’

  They kissed, and their lips lingered for the final time.

  ‘Send my love to the boys. Tell them their old man will be watching over them. Tell them to set a better example than I did. One of them should take over the property and look after you.’

  Alice sniffed. ‘They’re taking the house, Robert. It’s been confiscated by the crown.’

  ‘Bastards, tell them…’

  Alice pressed a finger to his lip. ‘I’ll manage, people in the town have offered me all the charity any widow could require.’

  Mayor Codd arrived and put his hand on Alice’s shoulder. Their time was up. The crowd were getting restless in the cold.

  ‘I’m so proud to have been your wife, and history will never forget what you did for your fellow man.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you in heaven, old girl.’

  *

  Alice looked lost as she returned to the crowd. The sight of her crying set Tiniker sobbing, and she called to Alice. Alfred froze as Alice headed directly for them. Given the events of the morning, she was the last person he wanted to see, but Alice looked relieved to see some familiar faces.

  Tiniker opened her arms and hugged her friend. Alfred rubbed her back with the palm of his hand as he hugged them both. Alice shook in Tiniker’s arms and cried into her shoulder.

  Mayor Codd held out his hand.

  Robert shook it.

  The two men nodded to one another. The mayor retired, and the justice of the peace fastened the noose around Robert’s neck. He called up to the guards at the top of the castle. The crowd watched in respectful silence as the rope pulled tight. Robert gurgled as his feet left the ground. His legs thrashed against the castle wall. By the time he reached the top, he’d stopped moving.

  His body, like the hopes of those that had followed him, was left hanging.

  THE END

  John 3:16

  16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

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  Historical Note

  In writing this book, I have attempted to offer a plausible theory for one of the unknown questions in English history: Why did Robert Kett, a wealthy man with much to lose, become the leader of the 1549 rebellion that bears his name? In attempting to answer this question, one of my greatest frustrations has been the certain knowledge that my theory will be and is, wrong.

  At the same time, one of my greatest comforts has also been that the real reason for Kett’s participation is long since lost to hi
story. Whilst plenty is known about the events, precious little is known about the main characters responsible for the Norfolk components of this fabulous story. Only two contemporary accounts exist from within Norfolk, both of which take a view sympathetic to the establishment of the time. The absence of pro-rebel accounts has allowed me to take enormous license, as I attempted to explore why things might have arisen as they did.

  I am no historian, and my writing should not be judged as such, I have however tried to remain as true to the recorded events as possible. All the dates are accurate or where conflicting accounts occur, they are within a day of their original occurrence.

  Nonetheless, this remains a work of historical fiction, and below is a list of all the characters that I have invented. Some of the rebel names I have used are true, albeit no account beyond that of their participation exists. A butcher called Fulke did murder Lord Sheffield, and a plaque bears testimony to that at St Martin at Palace Plain in Norwich. Thereafter, I have exaggerated Fulke’s involvement in the commotions. Lord Sheffield’s involvement with Princess Mary is a figment of my imagination, although theories exist that her spies were within the rebel camp. I have also taken great liberty with Robert Kett and Mayor Codd’s relationship. It is plausible that they could have been acquaintances, although I have seen no evidence to confirm this. What is clearer is that the working relationship that developed between the two men could be described as cosy. Codd signed the rebels’ demands and opted to remain at the rebel camp after Kett captured Norwich. I have omitted the alderman Thomas Aldridge from my story as I felt his inclusion alongside Mayor Codd at camp added little extra to the course of events. John Bossell did participate in Kett’s representatives, but his real role in the rebellion is unknown. I fear I have treated Augustine Steward harshly. The inhabitants of Norwich owe him a great debt, for he saved many of the fine medieval buildings, which stand in Norwich to this day, including his own house on Tombland.