‘What about their prisoners?’
‘We untied them and told them to stay well hidden till we got back. We couldn’t bring them here, they’re too weak. One of ’em collapsed with relief when he saw us. For a moment I feared he’d died on us.’
‘Right, we must get back before anyone in the house realises something’s wrong. Come along.’ I led the way towards the house.
We filed into the darkened stable yard and concealed ourselves between the buildings. By now there were lights showing in two of the ground-floor windows of the main house.
‘We know where to find them,’ I whispered.
After a few minutes the kitchen door opened. A man peered into the darkness. ‘Sam, Will, what’s keeping you?’ He stepped out into the yard. ‘Where are-’
There was a loud thud, followed by a quieter one as he fell.
‘Three down,’ I said. ‘Dick, tie him up and put him with the others. The rest of you come with me.’
We burst into the kitchen. The first person to see us was the cook tending a cauldron over the fire. She let out a piercing scream and dropped her ladle. The three men sitting round the table looked up in alarm and tried to stumble to their feet. They stood no chance. My club-wielding enthusiasts were upon them in an instant. I looked at their faces. Neither Black Harry nor Ferdinand Brooke was here.
‘This way!’ I called to Bart and ran towards the inner door. I rushed into the small hall. The two men I sought were supping alone, one each side of a long oak table. The noise from the kitchen had given them some warning and they were on their feet. Black Harry drew a long, thin stiletto. Brooke fumbled at his belt, trying to draw his rapier. Walt threw himself at him before he could do so. His grip fastened on Brooke’s sword wrist. I knew what that must feel like. Walt spent hours every week wielding heavy hammers to beat iron horseshoes into shape. Black Harry was sharper. His weapon was in his hand as I drew my poignard.
‘Come on,’ he snarled, bidding me to close in.
We circled each other and I was careful to keep a safe distance. On the other side of the table Walt’s strong arms had now encircled Brooke and the two men swayed back and forth like fairground wrestlers. However, I did not dare watch their contest. My eyes were fixed on the tip of Black Harry’s vicious stiletto. He waved the weapon to and fro, hissing with animal rage. I ducked beneath the flashing blade; tried to get in a jab with my shorter weapon. He kicked out at me, and I jumped back. As I did so, I saw Brooke break free from Walt’s grasp. The courtier leaped sideways, at the same time pushing Walt hard against the wall. There was a nasty noise as his head struck the stonework. Walt slithered to the floor on the far side of the table.
‘Help me!’ Black Harry cried out.
But Brooke was already running towards the outer door.
‘Come on, then,’ my assailant shouted. ‘Do you want to go the same way as your painter friend?’
Black Harry now had his legs pressed against the table. He glanced across the room as the door closed behind his retreating friend. My eyes followed the direction of his gaze. Stupid! He reached with his left hand for an ale jug and hurled it at my face. Then he lunged again with his dagger. Just in time, I jumped back out of reach. I overbalanced and fell sprawling among stale rushes. Black Harry turned towards the door and took a couple of steps.
At that moment there was a mighty roar. Walt rose up, gripping the table as he did so and tipping it forward. The massive oak top came away from its trestles. It caught Black Harry sideways on, showering him with trenchers, utensils and food. He fell heavily on the floor beside me. I rolled over. I brought my dagger down on his right wrist. With a squeal he let go of the stiletto. One of Cranmer’s guards rushed in, sword in hand.
‘Deal with him!’ I yelled, as I scrambled to my feet, and ran in pursuit of the fleeing Brooke.
Outside I stopped, my eyes not adjusted to the sudden darkness. I heard running footsteps away to my left, and followed. I found myself in the stable yard and once again paused, ears straining for noise of the fugitive. I could hear nothing above the crashes and shouts still coming from the house. Several figures were in the yard. I ran towards them, calling, ‘Did you see a man come-’
At that moment a door to the right burst open. In a clattering flurry of hooves a mounted horse ran into the yard, scattering anyone in its path, and turned towards the gateway. At full gallop Ferdinand Brooke disappeared into the night.
Victors and vanquished were gathered in the wreck of what had been the kitchen. The cook and scullion were crouched, terrified, in a corner, while my men were finishing the work of trussing up their prisoners. Horton and Garrow, the released clergy, had been brought from the stable and were sitting at the table, having their wounds tended.
‘Is everyone all right?’ I called out.
‘Simon, here, has a nasty stab wound,’ Dick said. He was by the outside door and crouched over one of the older men, carefully removing his blood-stained shirt.
‘Right, you,’ I called to the cook, ‘hot water and clean cloths quickly. No one else hurt?’ I asked.
‘A few cuts and bruises,’ someone said.
Another added, ‘This bunch of poxy knaves had no fight in ’em.’
‘Some of ’em’s foreigners,’ a third called out. ‘What d’you expect?’
One of the prisoners responded angrily, ‘You meet us equal terms, we show you who’s got fight!’
He was greeted with raucous laughter.
‘Congratulations,’ I said. ‘You’ve done well – better than I dared hope. Unfortunately, we lost the king, but we’ve got his chief jester.’ I pointed to Black Harry. ‘He won’t be performing any more of his evil tricks.’
‘He’ll dance well on the gallows,’ someone said, to loud laughter.
‘You all deserve food and rest,’ I said. ‘We’ll see what’s in the larder and after supper you can all go in search of beds. But we still have a few things to do. Throw this lot in the barn and make sure they’re tied securely. Walt will organise a rota of men to stand watch through the night. Two of you bring in our horses. Find water and fodder for them. We’ll need them fresh for tomorrow. We’ll have to make another early start. It’ll be a slow journey back. And now, Bart, you and I have a pleasant task to perform.’
I grabbed Black Harry by the collar and pushed him back into the hall. After we had set the table to rights, I forced the prisoner down on a bench, with his hands tied behind him. Bart and I sat opposite.
I began my interrogation. ‘You recognise my friend here, don’t you?’
He shrugged and shook his head.
‘No? Well, he recognises you as the leader of the band of ruffians who beat to death a defenceless young man in Aldgate on the first of September.’
‘He must be mistaken.’
‘I have other witnesses who can identify you as their abductor – the man who brought them here to this house and left them to die.’
‘Women and children imagine strange things.’
‘I didn’t say they were women and children. Then, of course, there are the two priests, held here as your unwilling guests. I’m sure they will have plenty to tell the King’s Bench jury.’
‘Lutheran scum!’he muttered.
Bart intervened. ‘Stop wriggling, lying varlet! ’Tis all up with you. If you’re a man, admit your crimes.’
‘Or what? Are you going to take revenge, you pitiable, one-armed loon?’
I put a hand out to restrain Bart, who was obviously struggling to control his emotions, but he responded calmly. ‘No, I shan’t harm a hair of you. Slitting your throat would give me no pleasure. You wanted to see me swing for your butchery. My delight will come from seeing you at a rope’s end.’
Black Harry laughed. ‘I shan’t hang. I have powerful friends. You’ve no idea what trouble you’re going to be in for today’s outrage.’
‘Oh, if I were you,’ I said, ‘I wouldn’t rely on the Duke of Norfolk or Ambassador Chapuys to come to your aid. They’ll be in a great hurry to disassociate themselves from your murderous career.’