‘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.