Kett had set up a court beneath what became known as the Oak of Reformation (which used to be just up St.Leonard's Hill from the office, past the plebs' car park, up near the water tower but has sadly not survived).
York Herald expected Kett to stand down as had happened elsewhere across the country, but when he offered Kett a pardon Kett replied that he had done nothing pardonable. Things began to get a teensy bit handbaggy as York Herald was mocked by the rebels for "attempting to bring them to sleepe with flattering words and faire promises to deceive them in the end."
It was at this point that York Herald's increasingly haughty harangue was interrupted by an unanswerable argument from a young boy. "It happened before he had made an end of his speech, that an ungracious boy, putting down his breeches, shewed his bare buttocks, and did a filthy act; adding thereunto more filthy words."
York Herald's men responded in a way that was … er … unlikely to bring about a happy ending to the proceedings. "At the indignity thereof, a certaine man … with bullet from a pistoll, gave the boy such a blow upon the loines, that sodainely strooke him dead."
Oops …
Up to this point, Kett had been wavering, prepared to negotiate, but now, with York Herald and his murderous men chased down the hill and the rebels in control of the city, Warwick arrived outside Norwich with his massive army. They were fresh and ready to slaughter the thousands of men, women and children camped upon the heath who were armed with little more than hunting bows, clubs and pitchforks.
After an initial artillery bombardment of the city, days of Stalingrad-style, brutal street fighting raged through Norwich's narrow lanes with Warwick's army gradually forcing their way to Tombland leaving whole districts in flames as they advanced.
Warwick took Norwich Castle without resistance as the rebels retreated, street by street. He freed the members of the local gentry whom Kett had imprisoned there, but most of them chose to stay locked in the castle gaol rather than risk the wrath of roving bands of rebels and city poor, many of the richest houses had in any case been sacked and burned to the ground by one side or the other.
Warwick was invited to stay at Deputy Mayor Augustine Steward's famously wonky house, though it was pretty new back then and probably a lot straighter than it is today. His forces were billeted around the market place and his headquarters set up in the Guildhall. His heavy artillery had been moved forward to the Wagon and Horses Lane end of Tombland and left under light guard as Warwick believed the rebels were already cowed by his show of strength.
Kett, however, had a few retired soldiers among his men, one of whom, Miles, was a skilled gunner. Under cover of darkness, he led the better-armed of Kett's men into Tombland, where a small contingent of grumbling soldiers were standing guard over the guns while the main army was merrily getting trashed in Norwich's pubs and rutting itself senseless down on Gropecunte Lane (yes, really).
By the time Warwick sobered up the following morning he was greeted with the unwelcome sight of his precious artillery lining the top of Kett's Hill and ranged along the clifftop behind our office, from where Miles rained down surprisingly accurate fire on the royal army.
The only guns left in the city were the old cannon from Norwich Castle's front yard, but these proved not powerful enough to reach Miles' guns and were soon put out of action.
So far, so good for the rebels, but alas … the next post shall not be so happy for our heroes.
Sources:
Acts and Monuments: Foxe: Old Dive's 1621 edition.
Francis Blomefield: An Essay Towards a Topographical History of the County of Norfolk: Volume 3: The History of the City and County of Norwich: published 1753 to 1775
Norfolk Museums Service and the Norfolk Archæological Society
East Anglian Archæology Vol. 132: Norwich Castle: Excavations and Historical Survey: 1978-1988: Part II: c.1345 to Modern: Elizabeth Shepherd-Popescu: 2009
Holinshed's Chronicles: 1577: Old Dive's 1808 edition. 5 Vols.
The Paston Letters: 1422-1509 : Old Dive's 1910 edition: 4 vols.
A History of the County of Norfolk, Vol 2: ed. William Page: 1906
The Printed Plans of Norwich 1558-1840, A Carto-Bibliography: Raymond Frostick: 2002
Norwich Cathedral - Church, City and Diocese: 1096 - 1996: Various Eds. 1996
Norwich Cathedral Close: Roberta Gilchrist: 2005
Mediæval Norwich: ed: Carole Rawcliffe & Richard Wilson: 2004
Norwich Since 1550: ed: Carole Rawcliffe & Richard Wilson: 2004
Norwich - The Growth of a City: Barbara Green & Rachel M R Young: Norfolk Museums Service: 1981
Norwich Houses Before 1700: Vernacular Architecture, Vol 14: 1983
Kett - 1549, Rewriting the Rebellion: Leo R. Jary: 2018
Kett's Rebellion in Norfolk: Frederick William Russell: 1859
Tombland: C. J. Sansom: 2018 (fictionalised account with historical essay appended)
2 comments:
Off into the rabbit holes I go...Tombland...Gropecunte...This is great stuff. I do love the interwebs.
Yay for the rabbit hole! Tombland is from the Saxon for Empty Land and was the original Saxon market place before the Normans moved it to its current location. Tombland is kept open by the city authorities and no permanent structure is allowed there, to keep the original feel.
G-C Lane … Should you come across a copy of Norfolk Archæology Vol XLV pt IV (2009), you'll find the record of the excavations behind what is now Cinema City (a bijou indie cinema built over a bomb crater with the adjacent mediæval house incorporated as a restaurant).
The lovely covered outside tables in the rear courtyard, surrounded by gorgeous mediæval flintwork and a magnificent 15th century oriel window (where I often eat before a movie) was known as the Turpis Vicus (literally 'unpleasant place") and was part of a road leading from the castle down to the river known as G-C lane for its centuries-long usage by working girls.
The Norfolk Archæology report uses studiedly academic language, peppered with the G-C word in a most hilarious manner.
A lot of places had a G-C Lane. London's Threadneedle Street was originally known by that name, but when the Bank of England planted its fat butt at one end of it they re-named it Threadneedle Street, still slyly keeping an echo of its old purpose.
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