The Red Rose of Anjou

JACK CADE

In his Manor House in the county of Sussex, Sir Thomas Dacre was seated at the long trestle table in his spacious hall entertaining his guests. It was summer and they were all tired after a long day’s hunting. The smell of roasting meat came from the kitchens behind the screens and serving-men and –women were scuttling to and fro with steaming dishes.

Jack Cade, the Irishman, was giving orders. He was the sort of man who liked to give orders. He had started her in the Manor as an ordinary scullion but he had quickly shown his abilities and it was not long before the cooks were giving him special duties. He was in charge of the serving-men and –women; it was his task to make sure the dishes arrived hot at the table and to decide who should carry them.

He was quick and clever; it was said that he had a little tucked away which he had managed to save here and there. He would ride into market and buy stores that were needed and everyone knew that he took a little profit on that. Never mind. A blind eye was turned to these transactions. Jack Cade was a clever fellow. Even Sir Thomas Dacre had said that if he had been better born he could have done well for himself.

John Cade undoubtedly did well for himself in Sir Thomas Dacre’s household. He was a man to be reckoned with, a little Caesar, a man who was outstanding in his world.

If he had a weakness it was for women, and he had little difficulty in satisfying his desires in that quarter. He was an outstanding man, good-looking, debonair, fond of fine clothes, often his master’s valet gave him some garment of which Sir Thomas had no need and which would not fit the valet. He was forceful, powerful; and eager that everyone should recognize his power. He often hinted that he was of noble birth—his father was a duke who had got him on a serving-girl and had then failed to acknowledge him. That was his story. He was not going to say who the duke was. There were not all that many and that would be fining it down a bit. Suffice to say that he was part noble birth and part humble and this combination had made of him the very fine fellow he was.

On this occasion he was a little uneasy. There was one of the serving-girls who was giving him some trouble. The silly young creature had become pregnant and wanted him to marry her.

Why couldn’t she have gone to the witch in the woods nearby who had a very good way of dealing with unwanted babies? Some of the more accommodating girls had had their babies and smothered them at birth, burying them respectably in some secret place; others had the little bastards and accounted it just a way of life. But this one—she had to shout and threaten. He would never have started with her if he had known what she was.

Willing enough after a time, a shy sort of wench, she had needed a lot of persuading. And now...she was threatening to go to Lady Dacre to tell her all and ask her to force Jack Cade to marry her. It really was disturbing, because although he had no intention of marrying the girl it would be very awkward if Lady Dacre insisted on his doing so.

The girl was there in the kitchen now turning the sucking-pig on the spit. The cook wanted it hot and succulent by the time it was required to carry to the tables. That would be in fifteen minutes’ time, after they had worked their way through the partridge pie and the beef and mutton.

She caught his eye as he was about to pass her, and there was that in her expression which made him pause. It was half pleading, half threatening. He knew from experience that it was those quiet ones who were capable of strong action. He had to go carefully with her.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ he muttered.

‘You know well. Jack Cade, and ‘tis of your doing.’

‘I reckon you played your part in it, eh.’

‘We both did and we both should have our part in what’s coming.’

He gave her a playful push.

‘Come on. You was willing enough.’

‘Talk like that if you will, Jack Cade. I shall go to my lady.’

‘Now listen. You go too fast. I want to talk to you. I’ve got plans.’

‘What plans?’ He saw the hope springing into her eyes.

‘Listen. When they’re served and lolling over the tables listening to the minstrels, slip out to the shrubbery. See you there. I’ve got something to say to you.’

‘All right. Jack. I’ll be there.’

He was thoughtful. What could he say to the girl? He was not going to marry her. That did not fit in with his plans at all. She would be no good to him. He was going to get on in the world. When he married it would be the daughter of some gentleman of standing. That was the way to get on in the world and Jack Cade was going to get on in the world. Let no one make any mistake about that, and he was not going to do it by marrying one of the lowest serving-girls in the Dacre household.

It was very unfortunate that this girl had got herself with child. She was a determined little piece, too. He hadn’t liked the look in her eyes when she had said she would tell Lady Dacre. It would not be the first time her ladyship, who believed in forcing morality on the poor, had insisted on a marriage. He wanted to stay at Dacre Manor. He was doing well here. He was not ready to pass on yet. He had found a profitable way of life with the tradesmen.

And now this slut threatened to spoil it all.

He would have to find a way of dealing with her.

When he went out to the shrubbery she was already there.

‘Jack,’ she cried, and flew at him, full of affection now, thinking that he was going to give in.

‘Now listen here,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to get one thing straight. There’s going to be no marriage. You’ve got to go off to the old witch. She’ll give you something...and then in a little while you’ll be slim and straight as a virgin.’

‘It’s too late, Jack. You know what happened to young Jennet. She left it too late and it was the end of her.’

Would to God it would be the end of you, he thought.

She was looking at him pleadingly. ‘Well, what then?’ she asked.

‘Well then...you’ve got to have it, that’s all. What’s one more little bastard in the world?’

He was unprepared for the blow he received at the side of his face and staggered under it. The girl had strength.

He seized her arm and their faces were close, glaring at each other.

‘Don’t you talk about your baby like that,’ she said.

‘That’s ripe, that is, from someone who a minute ago was talking of doing away with it. Besides, how do I know it is mine?’

Her eyes glinted at him. She looked murderous. Here was one he would have to handle very carefully.

‘It’s your baby and it’s mine,’ she said, ‘and it’s not going to be a bastard because I’m going straight to Lady Dacre tomorrow and she’ll make you see where your duty lies.’

‘You’ll not go to Lady Dacre.’

‘I will. I promise you. Jack Cade, I will.’

She would. Yes, there was no doubt of that. He gripped her arm and twisted it behind her. She continued to look at him in spite of the pain.

He released her suddenly and as she was about to run from him, he caught her. He shook her. ‘You’ll not go to Lady Dacre.’

‘I will,’ she cried. ‘I will. I will.’

It had all happened in a few moments. His hands were at her throat. She opened her mouth to protest and then was silent. Her eyes seemed to be coming out of their sockets; her face was growing purple...and suddenly she was silent.

When he released her she slid to the ground.

‘God help us,’ he ejaculated. ‘I have killed her.’

He stood still for a few seconds looking down at her. His problem was solved. Lady Dacre could not now force him to marry her.

He was a man who acted quickly. It was one of the reasons why he had come so far. He could bury the body. How long could that remain hidden? She would be missed. There were people who knew that he had been friendly with her. There might be some who knew she was carrying his child. If she disappeared they would wonder where. They might start making enquiries.

There was only one thing he could do. It was the very thing he had fought against. He must leave this profitable nest which he was feathering so lucratively and find some other outlet for his talents.

He hid the girl’s body in the shrubbery and crept back to the house. There he collected the money he had amassed, put his clothes into a knapsack and chose the opportunity to leave the house unseen.

The Dacre episode was over. He had to find fresh fields to conquer.

He made his way to the coast. He was making plans. He would go to Dover or Sandwich and wait there until he found a ship which was going to France. There were always ships going to France carrying troops and ammunition. He could join one of those and seek his fortune as a soldier of war. Soldiers were always welcome in this perpetual war against France.

It would be well for him to get out of the country for a while.

He was right. It was not difficult to join a ship at Dover. As many men as possible were wanted to fight the French. He had taken the precaution of acquiring a tin box, putting most of the money he had amassed in it and burying it in a wood near the coast. So he crossed the sea and thought of that little incident back at the Dacre estate as closed.

It was a pity. It had been profitable but it would have been the end of ambition if he had been forced to marry and knowing Lady Dacre he was certain that would have been the outcome. It was a pity he had been driven to murder. But the girl had been a fool. It occurred to him that he could have got away like this without murder. However it was done and he was now putting it behind him.

It seemed a wise precaution to change his name. He had always liked to imagine he was of noble birth and he thought Mortimer was a good name. It had royal connections. He became Jack Mortimer and let it be believed that he was related to the Duke of York—on the wrong side of the blanket maybe, but the blood was there.

Free of servitude in the Dacre household he began to assume a certain air. He was careful not to overdo it, to learn gradually, to ape those of noble birth; and within a few months no one questioned his right to the name of Mortimer.

He began to be rather pleased at the manner in which life had changed for him. He did not dwell on the Dacre incident but he did occasionally wonder who had found the girl’s body. They would suspect him, of course, because he had fled and the girl was pregnant. Still, better to have fled than have stayed behind to face it. Doubtless if he had he would be hanging from a rope by now.

He had dreamed of sacking towns, acquiring great trophies as he did so, but the war was going badly for the English, and there was little booty to be found.

The army was proving less profitable than the Dacre household had been, so he decided that he would return to England. If he changed his name and settled in another part of the country, assuming a different personality, he would have nothing to fear.

He deserted from the army and decided to find some quiet village where he could set up as a physician. Why not? He had always been interested in the body and having talked to many quacks had learned the secrets of making lotions and potions.

Arriving in England, he first retrieved his fortune from the wood and made up his mind that he would stay in Kent. He found a suitable village and calling himself Aylmer practised there as a doctor. His charm of manner and his undoubted good looks soon made him popular and he was amazed how easily he slipped into his chosen profession.

Fortune smiled on him for in due course he was called in to attend the master of the manor house and the treatment was successful so the family there believed he was a very clever doctor. He was invited to dine and became a special friend of the young man of the house. He had certainly moved up in the social scale since his days as scullion to the Dacres.

As the months passed his connection with the gentry had an effect on him. He spoke like them, acted like them and as he was assiduous in his study of them and determination to be accepted, he passed unquestionably as one of them.

A Squire from Tandridge in Surrey was visiting at the Manor for a week or so and the doctor was invited to the house.

It so happened that the Squire had a beautiful daughter and no sooner had the self-styled Dr. Aylmer set eyes on her than he determined to marry her. What a different proposition from the little Dacre serving maid! He knew how to charm her and because he was considered to be a man of standing the Squire could see no reason why there could not be a marriage between the worthy doctor and his daughter.

The marriage was celebrated. There was a handsome dowry for the bride and Jack Cade began to think that the best thing that had happened to him was to murder a girl in a shrubbery.

If he had not he would still be there, perhaps married to her— which God forbid—or making a little money here and there. Ah, this was different. He had achieved an ambition. He had taken a big step up in the world.

He rather wished that he had kept the name of Mortimer. But perhaps he was wise to have changed. Such a name might have set people probing to discover his true origins.

For a year or so he lived quite contentedly with his new status, his new wife and the profession he had chosen. But there were one or two moments of uneasiness. One came with the arrival of a doctor friend of his wife’s father who visited them and naturally expected there to be a mutual interest in medicine. It was occasions like this—when Cade experienced great apprehension—when he realized he could be exposed. And if he were? What if he were traced back to the Dacre household in Sussex?

He was not quite so contented. Moreover his nature was such that he was always seeking for some higher place.

There was a great deal of murmuring throughout the country. Taxes were extortionate and Kent seemed to have been selected for even greater hardship.

Jack had always liked to hear himself speak. He had never been at a loss for words. He found himself holding forth on the subject; he was invited into people’s houses and he would talk there; and very soon people were coming to hear him speak. This delighted him. He was enchanted with his new role.

And when the Duke of Suffolk was murdered he declared that the King was hard on Kent because from Kent had come the ships which had intercepted him.

Memories of a certain Wat Tyler were revived. He had led the people to London in protest. He had failed, it was true, because King Richard had ridden him out to Smithfield and Blackheath and confronted the rebels, promising them all sorts of concessions which he had no intention of complying with. Wat was only a tyler. Jack Aylmer, Cade or Mortimer, whatever anyone liked to call him, was very different.

Wat Tyler had begun his insurrection when he had murdered a tax collector who had insulted his daughter. Well, Jack Cade’s adventure had begun with murder...of a different kind it was true, but there was a similarity.

But how different were these two men. Poor Wat was a humble tyler. Jack Cade was a man who had left his humble origins behind.

He knew something of politics. There was trouble in high places. The Queen was very unpopular. The King was weak. There was no heir to the throne and the Duke of York, though in Ireland, had a very strong claim. The House of York was ready to push the House of Lancaster from the throne.

And what of those who were in at the beginning to help? What of Jack Cade, Aylmer as he called himself? Why should he not take an active part in politics? It would be more interesting than administering to the sick in some remote country village.

Jack was impulsive by nature. He was soon preaching revolution.

‘Let us gather together, my friends. Let us go to see the King as others in Kent once did before us. They failed. They had not our foresight. Wat Tyler was their leader...a man of strength and purpose but a tyler of no education. It will be different with us. We shall set out in a different fashion. We have a leader who can talk to the King when he comes face to face with him. You will have a leader from the royal house itself Yes, my friends, my real name is Mortimer and I am a cousin of the Duke of York. We will work for my cousin. A strong man...a man more royal than the King for he is royal through his father and his mother. He will rule England and we will set aside this scholar with the French harlot who leads him in everything he does.’

It was fine inspiring talk and the people rallied to him. It was a new role for him, one he had secretly longed for. He was going to be a leader and when they succeeded and the Duke of York was on the throne he would be likely to remember all that he owed to the man who had begun it all.

By Whitsuntide they were ready to march, for Jack Cade had gathered together some twenty thousand men. They set out and reached Blackheath on the first day of June. There they encamped and staked the ground as though they were at war and expecting an attack, a trick Cade had learned during his experiences in France. They waited there, ready to march on London.

Meanwhile the King, hearing that rebels from Kent were encamped at Blackheath and remembering the story he had often heard of his ancestor Richard the Second, who as a boy faced the rebels and dispersed them, dissolved Parliament in Leicester where it was at that time and came with all speed to London.

He was not a young boy as Richard had been; he hated

bloodshed. He did not want to have to ride out with an army to subdue these people, so on his arrival in London he sent a deputation to Blackheath to learn the grievances which had brought the men to London.

Jack was prepared. They had heard that the whole of Kent was to be destroyed and made into a forest as reprisals for the death of Suffolk. The common people had not chosen the ships which had been sent to intercept the Duke. They knew nothing of such matters and would not suffer for them. The King surrounded himself with low men of whom the people did not approve whereas lords of his blood were put away from his presence. They were referring to the Duke of York who had been sent out to Ireland and with whom Cade wished to be allied. People were not paid for stuff and purveyance taken into the King’s household. Chiefly of course the people of Kent were incensed by the heavy taxation which was laid upon them. They wanted reforms. They also wanted the King to avoid the progeny of all those in sympathy with the Duke of Suffolk and take about his person the true lord that is York lately exiled by Suffolk, the Dukes of Buckingham, Exeter and Norfolk. They wanted those who had murdered the Duke of Gloucester punished. The duchies of Normandy, Gascony, Guienne, Anjou and Maine had been lost through traitors. All extortions of the common people must be stopped.

Henry listened to these complaints with close attention. He could understand that the people were angry because they had been heavily taxed but the accusations against Suffolk and his friends angered him. The chief of these had been the Queen and he could see in this criticisms of her.

He gave orders that all loyal servants of the King and country should unite against the rebels.

Knowing that if the King’s army came against them they would be defeated. Cade gave orders that they retreat to Sevenoaks. There they encamped while the King’s army advanced.

Henry made the mistake of sending out a small detachment under the Stafford brothers—Sir Humphrey and William. The result was triumph for the rebels. Both Staffords were slain and the rest of the detachment retreated to Blackheath where the King had his men.

Cade was delighted. He was proving himself to be a born leader. His force was well ordered; what he had learned in France stood him in good stead; he was a brilliant soldier. From the slain Sir Humphrey he took his spurs, his splendid armour, his brigandine of small plates and rings fastened by leather, his salade helmet which rested entirely on his head and was not attached to the rest of the body armour. The top had a crest which swept in a long tail at the back. Arrayed in these Jack felt the nobleman whom he had always longed to be.

The fine armour and his success elated Jack to such an extent that he believed himself to be a great leader. He saw himself rising to power and becoming chief adviser to the new King who would of course be the Duke of York, raised to the throne by the courage and brilliance of Jack Cade.

‘We are kinsmen,’ he could hear the Duke saying. ‘You shall be my chancellor.’

To have been victorious in battle against the King’s forces was triumph indeed.

The King was most disturbed. This was indeed a rebellion. It was verging on civil war. His ministers did not like the mood of the people generally. What was happening in Kent today would be happening in the rest of the country tomorrow.

Perhaps they should placate the insurgents.

‘Forsooth, I agree,’ cried Henry. ‘There must be no more bloodshed. Let us parley with these men. Who is this man Mortimer?’

‘He is a kinsman of the Duke of York, so he says,’ was the answer. They were all of the opinion that the Duke of York from Ireland was behind this revolt. It was reasonable enough. The King was weak; the Queen was hated and there was no heir, and the Duke of York did have a claim to the throne.

Yes, they were of the opinion that this revolt should not be allowed to spread, so they would parley with the rebels.

The fact that the King was ready to do this inspired Jack with new confidence.

‘It is for us to make terms,’ he cried. ‘We will see what the response is to that.’

One of the most hated men was Lord Say, the Treasurer, whose duty it was to make the extortionate demands which had aroused the wrath of the people. That he did not keep the money for himself but raised it for the country’s needs was beside the point. He raised the money; he made the demands; he was to blame. Lord Say’s was a name which was reviled throughout the country.

‘We shall refuse to treat with the King until Lord Say is placed in custody,’ said Jack.

‘That is easy,’ said the King, ‘and we must do it. We must prevent further trouble at all cost. Say can be committed to the Tower for the time being. He need only remain there until this is over. It may be the safest place for him.’

So Lord Say went to the Tower; the King and his army returned to London, and after a day or so Henry was deluded into thinking that if he did not take the rebels seriously they would disperse and go back to their business in the country.

He himself left for Kenilworth.

No sooner had he left than Jack marched his army into the capital.

It was a great day for Jack when he rode into the City. There was no resistance at all. People came out of their houses and cheered him. Street vendors and apprentices were all there to give them a welcome. For them it was like a day of a fair—a holiday.

But Jack was serious. He saw himself at the height of power even beyond his own dreams. He struck his sword on the street cobbles and cried aloud: ‘Now is Mortimer lord of this city.’

He kept his men in order. There was to be no stealing from the houses, no raping of the girls and women. This was their own fair city of London and those who succeeded must not offend the Londoners. ‘We must have them on our side,’ he said, ‘working for us.’

It was true that up to this time the Londoners thought it was all something of a joke. They were not averse to seeing the King discountenanced because they knew that would upset the Queen far more than it did him. No, this was amusing, rather like a royal wedding or a coronation...not to be taken too seriously though.

They very soon saw it in a different light.

Jack and his men spent the night at Southwark after setting guards in the city to keep the peace. The next day however he came back into the city and took up his place at the Guildhall.

He then sent some of his men to the Tower with instructions to bring Lord Say to him.

The bewildered Treasurer was brought into the hall and when he saw who his judges were to be, he tried to explain that what had been done had been by order of those above him. Jack Cade would have none of this. He was determined to show these people that he was in command.

‘You condemn me,’ said Lord Say, ‘but you cannot do that. I demand to be tried by my peers.’

‘It is. not for you to make demands,’ said Jack. ‘You stand condemned. You are guilty of crimes against the people. Make your peace with God.’

Nor was he allowed time to do that. Jack himself led the procession to the standard in the Chepe and there they cut off Lord Say’s head.

The head was held high that all the people gathered there might see it.

‘Here is the head of a traitor to the people,’ said the executioner.

Then the people of London knew that Jack Cade’s rebellion was no game to make a day’s holiday.

That was not enough. Lord Say’s son-in-law, William Crowmer, who was the Sheriff of Kent, was captured and dragged to the Chepe. His head was placed on a pole and it was lifted high until it was side by side with that of Lord Say. Those who carried the poles laughed and joked as they brought the two heads together and made it appear that they kissed.

‘A pair of rogues,’ shouted the men of Kent. ‘So may they all perish.’

The citizens of London had grown grave.

They did not like those who came uninvited and made free with their city.

Jack had gone back to Southwark after the executions gloating on his success but was soon to discover that his optimism was a little premature. When he returned to London the next day he found that the citizens had risen against him. It was no longer a joke. They would not have him dictating the law in their city and when it came to sentencing people to death and actually carrying out the sentence without trial and without time for the prisoner to be shriven, that was entirely unacceptable. If such conduct was permissible it would only be among Londoners.

Before he had retired to Kenilworth the King had left a certain Matthew Gough in charge of the Tower of London and with the Mayor, Gough called on the citizens to defend their city. The response was immediate and when Jack with his army came to cross the Bridge he was met by a sturdy force. Cade’s army was the stronger and during the fighting Matthew Gough was killed. Jack had taken the opportunity to storm the King’s Bench and the Marshalsea prison and the prisoners he released fought for him.

They battled fiercely but the Londoners were defending their city and the conflict raged all through the night. By the morning both sides were exhausted and readily agreed that there should be a truce which should last some hours.

The Archbishop of York, John Kemp, who was also the Chancellor, old and infirm as he was, had stayed in London and had had no desire to retreat to Kenilworth with the King. John Stafford, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was also in London and the two decided that it was their task and their duty to disperse the rebels and prevent any further bloodshed.

They sent for William Waynflete, the Bishop of Winchester, who happened to be at Haliwell, a priory in Shoreditch, at the time and the three churchmen met for a council in the Tower of London.

‘These rebellions can be dangerous,’ said Archbishop Kemp. ‘One hasty action could spark off a civil war. One the other hand the right action could spark off a civil war. On the other hand the right action at the right moment could put an end to the rebellion. King Richard did it with Wat Tyler but I would not wish to make false promises to these rebels.’

‘There is one thing we can offer them,’ said the Bishop of Winchester, ‘and that is free pardons. There must be some of them who are growing uneasy. If we offer to let them go peacefully back to their homes and assure them that there will be no reprisals against them, they might well decide that is the best plan of action for them.’

‘Will the King agree?’ asked Kemp.

The Bishop of Winchester snapped his fingers.

‘The King has chosen to retreat. I do not think we should ask his advice on this matter. There would not be time to in any case. What do you say that we offer these rogues pardon on the condition that they go quietly to their homes?’

The three of them agreed that if they could end the rebellion promptly that would be the best course possible, and it was accordingly arranged that Jack should have a meeting with the Bishop of Winchester at St. Margaret’s Church, Southwark.

Jack was realizing that to go on could mean disaster. He had collected a large quantity of booty which if he could get it safely away would keep him in comfort for the rest of his life. If it ended now at this point he could come out of the adventure very profitably. He could return to his country home something of a hero.

Yes, he agreed, for a free pardon he would disband his army of rebels and they would return home.

The Bishop went back to the Archbishops in triumph. The affair was concluded amicably. It was shameful that men should be able to rise and cause so much damage and then be given a free pardon but sometimes expediency was necessary.

Pardons were accordingly issued—two of them—one for the rebels and another for their leader in the name of Mortimer.

Jack stayed in Southwark. He had a Little job to do. He must gather together all the goods he had pillaged, hire a barge and get them all sent away by water. He was delighted with his acquisitions and gloated over them as he carefully packed them and got them into the barge.

As soon as they were safely away he himself would be gone and then he would like to lose himself Those who had been robbed of their possessions might be watchful for him. Well, he had called himself Mortimer for the purposes of the insurrection. He could change that now and go back to Aylmer. Although as Aylmer he had raised the rebels; and to return to Cade might stir memories in the Dacre country. Perhaps he needed a new name but he did not want to leave his comfortable life with the daughter of the Squire of Tandridge.

He was glad of a few days to ponder his next move.

The barge was ready to leave for Rochester by next day’s tide. He would return to his lodging and prepare to leave with it.

As he turned away from the river a man sitting idly there called to him: ‘Good day.’

He answered genially and the man went on: ‘Have you heard the news about Mortimer?’

Jack was almost amused to hear stories about himself. He found it extremely gratifying to consider what a mark he had made.

‘No,’ he said, ‘what’s the latest?’

‘Well, seemingly he’s no more Mortimer than I am.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Well, they’ve traced him see. Mortimer...that be a very grand name and the family says to themselves "Now who is he who claims to be one of us?" Seems he had no right...no right at all.’

Jack was beginning to feel very uneasy.

‘What are they doing about it?’

‘Well, as I heard it, it seems they’ve given a pardon to this Mortimer and if he’s not Mortimer, well then there’s no pardon for him, is there? I tell you this. They’re on the look-out for him. They say he’s Jack Cade...a bit of a rogue by all accounts. They’ll get him; and I wouldn’t care to be in his boots when they do.’

What good fortune to have talked to this man! To have heard what he did. That it was accurate he had no doubt. The man had even mentioned his own name.

So they were looking for him. There would be no pardon for him if they caught him. They always liked to get the leaders.

He was in imminent danger.

He would not go back to his lodging. He would stay on board the barge and at the very first moment he would be away.

He lay among his precious goods. He should never have called himself Mortimer. It was his pride again. But he should not blame his pride. It was that which had brought him as far as he had come. He was born lucky. Surely luck wouldn’t desert him now.

It would be a traitor’s death for him if he was caught. His pardon meant nothing. That was for Mortimer and he was no Mortimer. They would seize any pretext for getting him. He might have had to swing on a rope for the girl he had killed at Dacre’s but this last adventure it would be hanging, drawing and quartering, a fate, enough to strike terror into the boldest heart.

But good fortune had always been on his side. He trusted it would now.

It seemed it might for at midnight he was able to start his journey to Rochester.

He could have left his booty but he could not bring himself to do that. He would store it somewhere and it would always be there waiting for the time when he would be free to enjoy it.

It seemed that fortune was favouring him again. He reached Rochester safely and put his booty into a house which had been recommended to him and where he knew that for a considerable payment—which he could well afford—it would be safe until he came to take it away.

While he was trying to work out some plan there was a proclamation throughout the town. A reward of one thousand marks was offered to anyone who could bring Jack Cade alive or dead to the King.

So it really was known who he was. They would realize now that the leader of the rebellion was the murderer from Sussex.

He should have been content with the life he had built up as Aylmer. Why had he not realized that? All that precious booty would be lost to him if he were not careful.

He could not stay in Rochester. Without delay he must disguise himself and get as far away as possible. He saw that it might be necessary to start afresh as an entirely new personality. Indeed that seemed the only possible way. He had done it before as Aylmer and with outstanding success. Why should he not succeed again? And he would have his store in Rochester to come back to when everything had blown over.

The first necessity was Escape.

Disguising himself as an old pedlar he left Rochester and went across country towards Lewes in Sussex.

There was one man who had sworn to bring Jack Cade to justice. This was Alexander Iden, a squire of Kent who had become Sheriff after Jack Cade had murdered his predecessor William Crowmer.

He went to Southwark where he asked many questions of those who had seen and known Jack Cade. The trail led him to Rochester. Jack Cade had disappeared, he was told. Someone remembered seeing a pedlar who had looked a little like him.

A pedlar. It was a disguise which had been used many times before. Alexander Iden would work on the assumption that Cade, disguised as a pedlar, was making his way into hiding.

Iden was indefatigable. He was determined to get Crowmer’s murderer and as he proceeded through the countryside he was certain that he was on the trail.

Meanwhile Jack continued his journey. He would make for the coast. Perhaps it would be wise to leave the country. There were not so many ships leaving for France now. The war was petering out in defeat for the English. But he could probably get across on some pretext. He had absolute faith in himself There would be no mercy for him if he were caught. They would discover that he was the murderer of the serving girl at Dacre. Not that that would be so serious a crime as leading a rebellion and executing important men like Lord Say and Crowmer.

His situation was indeed desperate. He was afraid to present himself at the inns now. He knew they were looking for him. Too many people would be after that thousand marks reward.

He skirted Heathfield in Sussex. He did not want to go right into the town. That could be too dangerous now. He came to a large garden, part of a big estate. It was quiet and peaceful there. There was an extensive orchard where he could make a comfortable bed and be off at dawn.

As he was settling down to sleep he thought he heard a rustle among the trees, a footstep on the grass. A stone rattled as though someone had dislodged it when walking. He had become very sensitive to such sounds.

He started up.

Someone was there. The figure of a man loomed up among the trees.

Cade was on his feet in an instant.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked the man.

‘No harm,’ replied Jack. ‘Just seeking somewhere to spend the night.’

‘This is a private orchard.’

‘I’m sorry, my lord, if I’ve trespassed. It was just a place for a poor man to lay his head till morning. I meant no harm.’

‘You have done great harm, Jack Cade,’ said the man, ‘and I have come to take you to justice.’

Jack sprang on Alexander Iden and they fought desperately for a few moments. Jack was strong but Alexander was armed. Jack lay on the ground groaning and Alexander leaned over him. ‘It is no use,’ he said. ‘It is over for you. Jack Cade.’

He lifted Jack onto his horse and took him back to Heath-field.

While he acquired a cart in which he placed him. Jack was only half-conscious but he did know he was captured.

Alexander Iden explained to the astonished innkeeper who supplied the cart and horses: ‘This is Jack Cade and I am taking him to London.’

‘Poor fellow,’ said the innkeeper, ‘rogue though he was. I wouldn’t be in his shoes.’

‘He won’t be in them much longer.’

‘Nay, it will be the end for him. Why can’t folks stay quiet in the station to which they’ve been called?’

Alexander did not answer that. He wanted to get to London as fast as possible.

Jack lay in the cart. He scarcely felt the jolting. Now and then he would come back to consciousness, and remember.

It was all over then. It was finished. He was finished.

Not that, he thought. Anything but that.

He was lucky. He died on the way to London.

Alexander took him to the White Hart Inn in Southwark where he had stayed.

‘That’s him all right,’ said the hostess. ‘No doubt of that. That’s Jack Cade. I’d know him anywhere.’

He was taken to the King’s Bench prison until it was decided what should be done.

Then they took him out and cut off his head. His body was cut into quarters and that all might witness what happened to those who thought it a good idea to rebel against the King, it was placed on a hurdle and trundled through the streets with his head resting between his breasts. From the King’s Bench to Southwark and over London Bridge to Newgate...the scene of his brief glory.

The parts of his body were displayed in prominent places in Blackheath, Gloucester, Salisbury and Norwich.

That is the end of Jack Cade’s Rebellion, said the people. But it was not exactly so.

In calling himself Mortimer he had implicated the Duke of York; who was too important and too ambitious a man to let it be thought that he had been associated with an adventurer like Jack Cade.