IT RAINED FOR the rest of the weekend, but Tuesday, the twentieth of August, dawned fine and sunny. I made my way to the fair with the rest of the Swardeston villagers, Barak and Nicholas and Edward Brown, who had come up with many from Norwich. Josephine walked with him, cradling Mousy in her arms. The little girl, five months old now, looked round her, examining the crowds intently with her thumb in her mouth. I glanced at Nicholas. He had been quiet these last few days. He was still working with the horses and had not yet been asked to join in training for the battle; I feared that if he was, he might refuse. Natty walked with Simon, who was waving his arms and chattering about what there might be to see. ‘He’s over-excited,’ Natty said to me, a little wearily. Goodwife Everneke told Simon to quiet himself, lest people think him a nonny.
The fair was held on open heathland a mile from the crest; it was used for military training and the yellow grass had been cut down. Tents had been brought from Surrey Place, trestle tables erected and a stage built. As ever, I was amazed by the ability of the camp-men to organize so much in so short a time. Stewards guided the thousands gathering for the various events to the viewing places. Michael Vowell, standing with a group of his young friends, gave me a wave.
The fair began with a military display. A hundred archers shot their bows at earthen butts. Most of the arrows whistling through the air reached the circular targets in the centre. People clapped. This was followed by a mock battle between a hundred men in half-armour and helmets, using swords, halberds, spears and half-pikes. The choreography, by men with only the briefest practice, was remarkable.
The final part of the military display was the shooting of a currier, a type of small arquebus, captured from Northampton’s army. Few had ever seen such a weapon, and there were many curious stares at the gun, half as long as the man who held it was tall, with its long barrel and heavy stock. A second man lit a little fire. People peered in puzzlement as a lead ball was dropped into the barrel and the man aimed the arquebus at a heavy piece of armour captured from one of Northampton’s soldiers, set up fifteen feet away. Those standing close enough saw a little pan of gunpowder on the side of the arquebus uncovered, and a lit match attached by the assistant to a fuse. The trigger was pulled; there was a flash, a bang, and a round hole appeared in the armour. Natty turned to me, puzzled. ‘Seems a lot of effort for one shot,’ he said, scratching his head. His hair needed cutting again; I hoped he did not have nits.
‘Imagine a hundred of those facing you,’ Barak said grimly.
Grumbling among the crowd, most of whom had been able to see little, turned to excitement as Robert Kett mounted the nearby stage, with his brother William and Captain Miles. There was cheering and clapping. He raised a hand for silence, then began to speak, his great voice carrying far, his words, as usual, repeated back to those beyond hearing distance. It was a short speech, but every word counted.
‘My friends! You have followed me loyally for six weeks now, you have worked and trained as hard and successfully as any assembly in history! You have built this camp, and lived here in comradeship! You have put down the gentry and the rulers of Norfolk and of Norwich itself – we have taken the second-largest city in England and sent an army of lords and noblemen fleeing!’ There were loud cheers, which, again, he stilled with a raised hand. ‘I have always been open with you, never hidden anything, and you will know we failed to take Yarmouth, and that though some camps remain and there are new stirrings, most camps to the south are put down! Nor do I hide the fact that a great army, with many thousand men, led by the Earl of Warwick, has, according to one report, set out from London today. My friends, we face another, greater battle, but I know the stout hearts and strong arms of the Norfolk people, and in the end we shall win!’ He took a deep breath. ‘Think what will happen then! The end of forced enclosures and the unchecked oppression of the landlords and the great merchants! The end of the corrupt officialdom that has aided them, whose deeds would shame His Majesty if he knew. We shall win, and this time we shall lead the people to London, and present our demands to the King himself, with no earls or landlords to stand in our way!’ The audience cheered louder than ever, some throwing their caps in the air. All the time he spoke, Kett’s face had worked with emotion. Now he cried, ‘God save King Edward!’ and with that, amidst more clapping and cheering, he stepped down. I caught a glimpse of his face as he did so; it was, suddenly, desperately serious.
‘He’s right,’ Natty said quietly. ‘We can win, and bring a new Commonwealth to England!’
