Tombland

Nicholas clenched his hands, making the chain rattle. ‘The three of us are guilty of nothing against Kett. We have been checkmated by Reynolds and Vowell and made to face death. If only Barak were here. If only we could get the truth to him.’

I said quietly, ‘We do not know whether Jack is even still alive. And as Vowell knew, there is no point appealing to the guards here. They seem keen to take us all to our deaths, I think they have been chosen for that reason.’

We fell silent. Hours passed. Along the line of chained men some began praying together, while another group – they must have been Catholics – produced rosaries and prayed over them, again and again, in Latin. Dusk came, and the blue sky outside the big window turned dark. A thin crescent moon rose. From the camp we began to hear voices, thuds and the sound of creaking wheels. Although we were all tied closely together, Nicholas, at the end of the line, had a little more space to move and with difficulty he got to his feet and looked through the window. He said, ‘There are lots of torches lit. It looks like men, equipment and weapons too, are being moved from the camp.’

Just then the door opened with a crash, making everyone jump so that the long chain clanked heavily. A young soldier in helmet and breastplate entered, accompanied by guards. He looked at us with contempt.

‘Well, gentlemen of Norfolk,’ he said, ‘I have come to tell you our final attack on the city has failed. We have been driven out of the northern parts. All Norwich is now under Warwick’s control, we are cut off from the market. We cannot survive long without supplies, so we are evacuating the camp where’ – his voice broke for a second – ‘where we have lived these seven weeks. But we are not defeated. We are moving everything to the site where, tomorrow, we shall give battle to Warwick, his mercenaries and gentlemen, and we are about to send them a signal that we are ready to fight. You will all be taken to Mousehold Heath and tomorrow, chained together, you will be in the front line facing the enemy. It will be a nice dilemma for Warwick, whether to fire on you or not.’

One man put his head in his hands and began to howl. He was told brusquely to ‘stop winnicking!’ Another gentleman shouted out, ‘You promised us justice under the Oak of Reformation. Robert Kett said nobody would be killed. He’s broken his word!’

The man next to him asked, ‘Does he even know of this?’

The soldier did not answer directly. ‘Hundreds of our men have died in Norwich. It is the King’s Council, and Warwick, who have forced us into this. Now shut up, aren’t you supposed to be gentlemen, ready to face your end with dignity? You will be called for later.’ And with that he left the room, the guards locking the door behind him.

More time passed. Some men wept, others resumed their prayers, but most sat in shocked silence. It was quite dark in the room now. But presently we saw a faint red glow outside. It grew brighter, and we heard the crackling of flames. Even though the window was closed, a faint smell of smoke came into the room. Someone said in horror, ‘They’re setting Surrey Place on fire.’

Again, Nicholas got carefully to his feet and looked out of the window. ‘Holy Jesus Christ,’ he said in an awestruck tone.

‘What are they doing?’ someone asked frantically. ‘Is the house afire?’

‘No. They’ve fired the camp, that must be the signal they are ready to fight or die.’

I staggered to my feet, Boleyn leaning into me to make it easier. Through the window I saw a sight I shall never forget. The whole camp was ablaze, as far as the eye could see. All the little huts where we had lived were now fiercely burning circles of turf and bracken. Smoke billowed up, blown towards Norwich by an easterly breeze. I said quietly, ‘The end of the Mousehold camp.’

Nicholas said, ‘But if they win tomorrow, where will the rebels go?’

‘Into Norwich, I should think, through the northern gates they have been firing on. And then – try to spread the rebellion again.’ I groaned, for my back had been wrenched as I stood up, and Nicholas and Boleyn helped me back to a sitting position. Someone shouted out, ‘Will you stop moving up there? The chain’s pulling our arms.’

We sat in silence again, the room now lit by a bright, flickering redness. I saw Nicholas lean forward, looking towards the far end of the room. He said quietly, ‘Can you see who the man is at the other end of the chain? By the opposite wall?’

I screwed up my eyes and looked down. ‘A small man, old, I think, yes, with white hair.’

‘Damn,’ he said. ‘All may depend on the strength of the man at each end of the chain.’

I looked at him. My eyes were stinging now, for the room was full of smoke. ‘What do you mean?’

He muttered, ‘Maybe nothing. I doubt it will be possible.’

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