Rebellion's Message

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Until?’

  ‘Well, I came to a little later, to find the man who had filched the youngster’s purse was standing there in the doorway to the tavern. He gave the alarm, and I suddenly realized that my companion was dead. I feared being unable to defend myself, so I fled.’

  ‘Still holding the purse, naturally.’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘The purse? I don’t know.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Gardiner said, and reached for a quill.

  It was one of those moments when telling the truth can suddenly seem a very good idea.

  ‘A fellow I know took it from me to use it himself,’ I said quickly. ‘But he was killed a couple of days ago, and I think the purse was stolen from him. He was horribly beaten and tortured before they killed him.’

  ‘“They”? What makes you think there was more than one?’

  ‘I saw them. You see, in the Black Boar I saw three men playing dice. One was a huge man, built like an ox, another was slim and fair-haired, and the last was clad all in black, with a broad-brimmed hat. I saw them in the tavern, but then I saw them again when I was at my home the next day. Gil had met them in a tavern and brought them home to meet me. I think he was wearing the purse and that gave them the idea. They went home with him, and when they couldn’t find me, they slew Gil instead. But when we found his body, the purse was gone. It had been stolen from him.’

  Gardiner eyed me for a long moment. ‘Your tale is almost believable. It ties with much that we already know, certainly. However, there are some aspects I should like to consider. What happened to the contents of the purse?’

  ‘My companions took the coins,’ I said firmly.

  ‘How many were there?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was full, but I never had the chance to add it all,’ I said. ‘My companions took it as soon as it was seen.’

  ‘And there was nothing else in the purse? No charms, no buttons, no pieces of paper?’

  ‘Paper?’ I repeated, and then hurriedly added, ‘Buttons and charms? Not that I saw, no.’

  ‘These companions, are they loyal subjects of the queen?’

  ‘I wouldn’t live with them if they weren’t!’

  ‘But you would even though you knew that they were thieves and felons. An interesting distinction. Still, I am glad that you are a devoted servant of the queen.’

  ‘I am! I’m a very keen supporter of Her Majesty.’

  ‘Good. And so too are your friends?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’

  ‘So if they were to discover something that might be of harm to Her Majesty, they would clearly bring it to the attention of the proper authorities, just as you would?’

  ‘Um … yes.’

  ‘Good. Because that means I can safely rely on you to check with them whether they found a note in the purse, can’t I? And since you are a loyal servant, you will naturally bring anything to me.’

  ‘But, like I said, the purse was stolen. Gil was killed for it. After they killed him, they went through our belongings, too. They destroyed the place. I don’t even have a penny. I’ve nothing with which to buy a loaf or pint of ale.’

  He eyed me for a moment, then picked up a small leather purse. He weighed it in his hand and set it on the floor near me. ‘You have some money now. That will help you question people, and will stop you starving. We have to hope that anything that was once in the purse is not lost, but that one of your light-fingered latch-lifters has it still. That way, you can bring it to me here, and have the threat of pain removed.’

  ‘Threat?’

  ‘We don’t want to have to question you more invasively, do we?’ All of a sudden, his kindly eyes didn’t look so kindly after all. ‘So let’s hope you can find something.’

  SIXTEEN

  I was deposited outside. Rather to my surprise, I was not in Southwark, where the bishop had his great inn and hall, but still in Paternoster Row. The Lord Bishop must have a friend there near the cathedral, I supposed, who could provide a room when required. It was curious, the fact that the bishop had been happy to be alone in a chamber with me, but then I assumed he had other men listening and watching, ready to pounce on me if I showed myself as a danger to him. Not that I was, of course. The only threat I could offer was to his ears, if anyone tried to touch my sore head.

  Looking about me, I realized I was just opposite the charnel chapel. I looked back at the house. It was well decorated and rich-looking. Perhaps the good bishop came here occasionally to see what sort of strumpet he could find? But the thought of wenches of variable value put me in mind of my original purpose in coming up here. The man who had accosted me in the churchyard was not to be seen, but as I gingerly felt the lump on my head, I decided on the spot to give up hunting for Ann. Instead, I walked away towards Bill’s new home for us. I hoped that, with some luck, I could make my way there before my head tried to fall from my shoulders. I wasn’t convinced, though.

  It was a bright day, with the smoke from the fires making the sky look milky, but when I looked up at the sun through the veils and wisps of smoke, I saw only a hellish glow that seared my eyes and seemed to weld them to my skull. All I could do was grit my teeth, wince and carry on.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Bill demanded as I entered.

  Moll was behind him, and she took one look at my face and rushed to me, all her earlier reticence gone. I gave her a smile of pathetic gratitude as she helped me to a stool and seated me with my back to the wall.

  In truth, as she fussed about me, fetching wine and placing a damp cloth on my swollen head, I could barely hear the angry drone of Bill’s voice. He was telling me off, I think, for leaving and going back into town. For me, it was just a wash of noise in the background, rather like the Thames itself. It had no impact on me because I was incapable of listening.

  Moll stood over me, her breasts only a few inches away. It would have been so easy to reach out to them. All I really wanted just now was to rest my head on them and … in my state, I was in no condition to try to fondle her, let alone fight Bill for her.

  ‘Well? Where were you?’ he said.

  ‘I went to see if I could find Ann to learn who her man was – the man she was with in the tavern, I mean. And the Bishop of Winchester had me captured and taken to a house.’ I told him all that the bishop had said to me. ‘So, there you are.’

  ‘A button, a token or a scrap of paper?’ Bill repeated. ‘Why would he think we’d have anything like that?’

  ‘You will have to ask him that,’ I said, closing my eyes gratefully. Moll left her cool hand on my brow, which was as near to heaven as I had ever been. I was fairly sure that she had smiled at me, too. This was very different from before. No withdrawing from me now.

  ‘Didn’t he tell you? He spent all that time telling you about what you had been doing, after all!’

  ‘You need to ask him,’ I said. I was falling into a doze already.

  ‘There was nothing there, was there?’ Moll said. ‘No token or note in the purse Jack took?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Bill said, but there was doubt in his tone.

  I had the impression he must be eyeing me, as though suspecting me of having found something. Just at that moment, I couldn’t remember what I had told him, and, in any case, I wasn’t bothered. All I knew was that my head felt as if it might explode at any moment, and I wasn’t keen to have any further discussions. ‘If there was, the man in the hat took it when he killed Gil,’ I said shortly.

  ‘Well, then,’ Moll said. ‘Go on and leave him alone.’

  Bill muttered something, but Moll was not going to listen to him in her present mood, and the two began to shout at each other over my head until I put my hands over my ears. ‘Stop!’

  Bill set his jaw. ‘Are you ordering me around now?’

  ‘Shut up, Bill! In the name of all that’s holy, just piss off and do something useful! Find out who the man was in the tavern, find out who the man wi
th the wide-brimmed hat was, find out anything, but stop shouting and screaming over my damned head!’

  I must have used the correct manner of speech or inflexion, because, to my surprise, he went.

  SEVENTEEN

  I don’t know what happened after that. When I opened my eyes next, it was the middle of the night and a rushlight was burning in a holder at the wall. By its light I could see Wat and the large mass of Ham beside him, while Bill and Moll appeared to be lying farther off in the corner. Bill always picked a bed as far from the door as possible, just in case disaster might happen.

  Tonight that was to be.

  I had fallen into an unsettled dream, which appeared to involve me walking along Paternoster Row with men banging me on the head at regular intervals, when I was flung to the ground and began to fall into it as though I was lying on quicksands. I urgently tried to swim to hold myself above the mire, but nothing would prevail, and I felt the icy clutch of dead men’s fingers grasping my ankles and pulling me down, until the filth was at my mouth and I felt the bog’s waters lapping at my throat, and then …

  The door burst open. I gave a yelp of fear and fell off my pallett, scrabbling about on the floor for my knife or a branch with which to defend myself, while men shouted and argued. Looking up, I saw Bill standing naked before a small, fierce little man. He looked like a robin redbreast defending his nest against a sparrowhawk, looking up at Bill and spitting angrily. Behind him were several men in drab clothing, ragged and weary-looking.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The little man stared at Bill up and down. ‘You haven’t paid for the room! You bleeding swore I’d have the money yesterday, but I haven’t seen a penny piece yet, and I don’t know if I ever will at this rate. So either you lot can load your packs and march, or you can pay me now. If you can’t pay, these lads have the room because they have money.’

  ‘I rented this place for a fortnight, you thieving old scrote!’

  ‘Did you? Show me your indenture, then, boy!’

  ‘We shook hands on the deal!’

  ‘Show me the paper where we agreed it!’

  Bill and the man, who, I gathered, was the owner of this run-down little building, squared up to each other like game cocks. I looked over at the men at the doorway. ‘Who are they?’

  A man leaning against the doorway looked at me. His face was grey, and he had splatters of mud on his cheek and the breast of his coat. ‘We are all that’s left. Fifteen of us marched to meet the rebels to support the Whitecoats, but they went to join Wyatt and his men. When the fighting started, we were too few. We didn’t stand a chance, not against so many.’

  He looked as though he was ready to fall. The rest looked scarcely any better.

  ‘Why do you want to stay here? Aren’t you Londoners yourselves?’

  ‘Nay. We’re from north of the city. We had hoped to stay at an inn, but you try to find a place just now.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. I was still feeling punch-drunk and light-headed from the blows to my head.

  ‘Because it seems that all the rooms are taken. And the ones where there’s space seem to cost more than they did three days ago,’ he added, looking at the landlord.

  ‘That’s not my fault. It’s just the way things are,’ the fierce little man said.

  Bill pushed him with both hands on his chest, and the irascible man took a couple of paces backwards. ‘You try that, and you’ll find yourself explaining yourself to the watch. I’m not scared of getting the watch in here!’

  I was getting fed up. My head hurt, I was tired, and the last thing I wanted was a fight in my bedroom. ‘Bill,’ I said, ‘why don’t we let them come in? There’s only a few, and look! There’s not one of them who is capable of attacking us. They’re all far too tired.’

  ‘They’re having the room whether you like it or not,’ the landlord spat.

  ‘You should be careful,’ I said. ‘After all, if you have a bawdy house here, you might get paraded to the stocks. Who was it? A man called Chekyn, wasn’t it? He was accused of bawdry last year, you recall? He was living on the profit of his wife and carted to the pillory, wasn’t he?’

  ‘I haven’t got a wife,’ the little man said.

  ‘No. Which is why it will be all the easier for men to understand that you wanted young Moll here. But when you tried to force her to become your whore, she grew so incensed that she had to report it.’

  ‘What?’ The man’s face fell.

  ‘That, at least, is how the magistrate will hear it. So, good master, be off and leave us to settle this among ourselves.’

  ‘I want you lot out!’

  ‘And it won’t happen,’ I said. ‘In the name of God, go now, and you will get a fair share of the fee for the room, but if you stay, I swear I will have you in the pillory. I have friends who will help me.’

  ‘Who?’ the man sneered. ‘I suppose you’re a friend of the queen, are you?’

  ‘No. But I dined today with her Lord High Chancellor, Bishop Gardiner, and he is powerful enough not only to have you carted but to confiscate every building you own. So be off with you and don’t bother us again this night!’ I said, and I backed up my words with a menacing step forward.

  Perhaps it was the apparent determination, or maybe he believed my tale, I don’t know, but he looked about him at all the men in that chamber, and clearly decided that there was no point in remaining to be battered and belaboured like a cat in a sack. He muttered something about expecting to see his money quickly, and then, as the soldiers eyed him with the casual interest of a man watching ants before standing on them, he bolted.

  At last, I thought, and returned to my bed. But even then I was not to be allowed to sleep. Although I earnestly craved the chance to close my eyes, the newcomers entered like a whole company of plate makers, rattling and thumping their way to find unoccupied areas of the floor. In the end, I was forced to give up.

  ‘Where are you lot from?’ I asked their commander.

  ‘I am called Atwood,’ the grey-faced man said. ‘The men call me “sir”. You can call me Dick.’

  He drew himself upright from the door frame where he had been leaning, like a man who had laboured hard in the fields, and walked in after his men. He had said fifteen joined him against the rebels, but there were only six with him now.

  I have seen soldiers before. They tend to be loud, raucous fellows, often young and prone to squabbling, but these men were older and more serious. Or perhaps it was only their recent experiences that had made them appear so. This one looked familiar.

  ‘We had heard that it went ill,’ I said.

  ‘It was worse than ill,’ Dick said. He eased himself down at the wall and yawned. ‘We reached them in the late morning with the Duke of Norfolk in command. Captain Bret was leading us, and we readied ourselves for a long fight. There was no lack of courage among my fellows. But then many of our companions threw in their lot with the rebels. We thought they were charging, but the traitors just ran to them, then turned and joined their ranks. We didn’t have a hope after that. They had thousands of men before we arrived, and the turncoats gave them still more. The battle was short and went badly for us, so when we could, we had to disengage and come back.’

  Disengage was a soft, gentle word for what they seemed to have gone through. At that time I had never been pushed and beaten into line. And, later, it was not to be an experience I would want to repeat. The thought of standing and waiting while an army marched at me, and then having to fight with sword or pike while others were shoving steel in my face or at my soft bits, left me feeling close to vomiting. It wasn’t only the idea that a man might be attempting to inspect my liver with a halberd, but the idea of stabbing with a blade and seeing a man impaled on it. In my mind’s eye, I could see a fellow like Wat, my sword entering below his breast and running in, or a youth like the young man who was killed at the Black Boar, standing and staring at me while I hacked at his neck … no, I don’t think I could do it. If a man
was trying to kill me, perhaps I could defend myself, but even then I’m not sure. Slashing and thrusting at a man is all very well as a concept when it is a matter of killing or being killed, but the trouble is, I feel sure that my own hands would disobey me, were I to try it.

  Disengage, indeed. What he meant was that they had all had enough of terror: of the fear of death, of the sight of friends dying, of the rattle of steel on hauberks and breastplates, of the smell of bowels opened by steel, and the noise of men breathing their last while calling for Holy Mother Mary or their own mother. Who wouldn’t be happy to escape that kind of hell?

  ‘What next?’ Bill asked.

  ‘They’ll be coming here, I think,’ Dick said. ‘What else would they do? They will be coming here to take the city. Who knows, they may have already set their accomplices in the city? It would only take a few apprentices shouting for their clubs to paralyse most of the folk in London.’

  ‘There are many of us who’re prepared to fight for our city,’ Bill said warningly.

  ‘Many, yes. But are there enough thousands? Look at the city’s walls and ask yourself, how well would they hold up against a determined foe? Look at the bridge over the river, and consider how well that could be defended against four or five thousand. And don’t forget that this Wyatt is no fool. There were rebels all over the country, and all have been quelled. But Wyatt has formed an army and expanded it, and still it grows as he marches towards us. He is a keen student of warfare, a skilful tactician and a shrewd strategist.’

  I said, ‘Do you think he can succeed, then?’

  ‘He could. Whether he does will depend on the men here in the city,’ Dick said, and his chin was almost on his breast as he spoke. Almost before he finished speaking, he was snoring.

  Bill and I exchanged a glance, and then returned to our own palliasses. I think Bill was soon asleep, from the way his breathing altered, but for my part, I stayed awake a while, staring at the burning flame of the rushlight and thinking what hell it must be to be thrown into a battle.