them to training groups of a dozen men. Under his leadership, they’d fought and won against the sheriff of Kent. That man’s gaping head still leaned at an odd angle on the top of a pole by Jack’s fire, with the white-horse shield resting at its foot. The sheriff had been a short man in life, but as Paddy pointed out, he was finally taller than all of them.
Although Jack could not have said exactly why, it bothered him more than anything that it was Ecclestone they’d asked to beard the lion in his tent, or whatever the phrase was. His friend stood at the head of a small group of men, talking calmly and slowly, as if to a lunatic.
‘No one’s saying they’re afraid, Jack. That’s not it. It’s just that London … well, it’s big, Jack. God knows how many people are there, all crushed up between the river and the old walls. The king doesn’t even know, most likely, but there are a lot of them — and a lot more than we have.’
‘So you think we’re done,’ Jack said, his eyes glinting dangerously beneath his dipped head. He sat and watched the fire they’d lit, feeling nicely warm outside and in, with a bottle of clear spirit to hand that he’d been given just that morning. ‘Is that it then, Rob Ecclestone? I’m surprised to hear it from you. You think you speak for the men?’
‘I don’t speak for any of them, Jack. This is just me talking now. But you know, they have thousands of soldiers and a hundred times as many seething in the city. Half of those are hard men, Jack. There’ll be butchers and barbers to stand against us, men who know one end of a gutting knife from another. I’m just saying. It might be a step too far to go looking for the king himself. It might be the kind of step that will see us all swinging on the Tyburn gibbets. I hear they have three of them now, with room for eight on each one. They can hang two dozen at a time, Jack, that’s all. It’s a hard city.’
Jack grunted in irritation, tipping his head back to empty the last of the fiery spirit down his throat. He stared a while longer and then clambered to his feet, looming over Ecclestone and the others.
‘If we stop now,’ he said softly, ‘they’ll still come for us. Did you think you could just go home? Boys, we’ve robbed and stolen. We’ve killed king’s men. They’re not going to let us walk away, not now, not since we started. We either throw the dice for London, or …’ He shrugged his big shoulders. ‘Well, I suppose we could try for France. I don’t think we’d be too welcome there, though.’
‘They’d hang you in Maine, Jack Cade. They know a Kentish scoundrel when they see one.’
The voice had come from the back of the group. Jack stiffened, blinded by the firelight as he peered into the darkness.
‘Who was that? Show your face if you’d speak to me.’
He squinted into the yellow and black flickers. Shadows moved across men turning nervously to see who had spoken. Jack made out the bulk of his Irish friend heaving two other men towards him.
‘He said he knew you, Jack,’ Paddy said, panting. ‘He said you’d remember an archer. I didn’t think he was a madman to taunt you.’
‘He’s had worse from me in the past, you great Irish bullock,’ Thomas Woodchurch replied, struggling against an iron grip. ‘Christ, what do they feed you?’
With both his hands full of cloth, Paddy could only shake the two he held in exasperation. He did that until their heads were lolling dizzily.
‘Had enough?’ he said.
‘Woodchurch?’ Jack said in amazement, walking forward out of the firelight. ‘Tom?’
‘I am. Now, will you tell this bog hound to put me back on my feet before I kick his balls up his throat!’
With a roar, Paddy let go of Rowan and raised his fist to hammer Thomas to his knees. Rowan saw what he was about and grappled the Irishman in a rush, toppling all three in a heap of kicking and swearing.
Jack Cade reached down and pulled the young man away with his fists still flailing.
‘Who’s this, then?’ Jack asked.
Rowan could only glare at him, held by his own collar so tightly that he was choking and turning red.
‘My son,’ Thomas said, sitting up and fending Paddy’s kicks away.
Thomas got to his feet first and put out his hand to help the Irishman. Paddy was still ready to attack, but he settled down to an angry muttering as Jack held his palms up and dusted Rowan down with an odd smile flickering about his mouth.
‘I remember him, Tom, when he was just a squalling brat, about as red in the face as he is now. What ever happened to that girl from the rookeries? She was a right smart little piece, I always thought.’
Jack sensed Paddy’s temper was about to get the better of him and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
‘It’s all right, Paddy. Tom and I go back a long, long way. I’ll hear whatever he has to say and if I don’t like it, perhaps you can tempt him to try a bit of bare knuckle, to cheer the lads up.’
‘I’d like that,’ Paddy grumbled, still glaring.
Thomas squinted up at him, judging the Irishman’s size and weight before chuckling.
‘I couldn’t take him if I was fit — and I was cut getting out of France. It’s been a rough year for me and the boy. Then I heard Jack Cade had himself an army and I thought I’d trot over and see if it was the same man I remembered.’
‘Come to join the Kentish Freemen, have you? We can always use an archer, if you still have the arm for it.’
‘I was thinking about it, Jack, but your men are saying you have an eye on London and the king himself. What do you have, three thousand?’
‘Five,’ Jack said instantly. ‘Almost six.’
‘With enough warning, they could put double that on the roads, Jack. That’s a nasty old city. I should know.’
Cade’s eyes glinted as they assessed the man before him.
‘How would you do it then, Tom? I remember you used to see clear enough once.’
Thomas sighed, feeling his years and his body’s weakness. He and Rowan had eaten a haunch of the horse they’d stolen, exchanging a few days of rich meat for walking the last part of the way. Even so, he knew it would be a while longer before he could empty a quiver at a decent speed. He did not reply for a moment, his eyes dim as he thought back to the farms he’d seen burned and the bodies of entire families he’d passed on the road. In all his life he’d been quick to anger, but this was not the same thing. He’d built this fury slowly, over months of loss and being hunted. He blamed King Henry and his lords for everything he’d seen; that was true enough. He blamed the French, though he’d made them bleed for every yard of his land. He also blamed Derry Brewer, and he knew London was where he’d find him.
‘I’d go for the heart, Jack. The king will be in the Tower or the palace at Westminster. I’d send a few men in who know the city, long enough to find out where he is. My choice would be the Tower, for the Royal Mint and all the gold it holds. Then I’d make the run at night, fill my pockets and cut his black heart out. I’m done with kings and lords, Jack. They’ve taken too much from me. It’s about time I took something back for my trouble.’
Jack Cade laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
‘It’s good to see you, Tom. Good to hear you as well. Sit with me and tell me what roads you’d take. These faint-hearted girls are telling me it can’t be done.’
‘Oh, it can be done, Jack. I don’t know if we can beat London, but we can show those nobles the price of what they took from us. Maybe we can make ourselves rich at the same time. There are worse ideas — I’ve been on the wrong end of most of them.’
William’s stomach was rebelling, forcing acid into his mouth as he knelt on the heaving deck with his hands tied behind his back. His old wound was cramping one of his legs and the muscle was screaming, but whenever he tried to move, one of the pirates would kick out at him, or cuff his head back and forth until he spat blood. He was helpless and furious, unable to do anything but watch as the last of the crew were killed without ceremony and pushed over the side, to vanish into the sea.
He could hear his captors rummaging around below deck, hooting and shouting with glee at whatever they found there. His own bags had already been cut open, with men scrambling after the purse of coins Derry had placed in there for him. William had said nothing as they’d jeered and taunted him, waiting for whoever commanded them to show himself.
He knew the man was coming when the wild excitement in the pirate crew was suddenly snuffed out. They stared instead at the deck or their feet, like dogs in the presence of the pack leader. William craned his neck to see, then gave a shout of surprise and pain as he was suddenly dragged forward along the deck, his legs
