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.

IN THE TEMPLE GARDENS

From Dublin Castle Richard Duke of York was watching events in England with great attention. As soon as any messages arrived he scoured their contents for news of the rebellion.

This Jack Cade – impudently calling himself Mortimer – had risen. With what purpose? He asked Cicely, his clever and most forceful wife.

Because, was the answer, the country was ripe for rebellion. The King was no King. He was tolerated because rumour had endowed him with certain saintliness. His great delight was in building colleges and attending churches. Laudable in a priest but hardly suitable for a king.

‘Sometimes I think Fate likes to play a joke on us. It selects the most unlikely man to wear the crown when…’

“When there are those with as much right…some would say more…to wear it,’ finished Cecily who did not believe in diplomacy.

Her husband, this great Duke of York, had far more right to the crown than Henry of Lancaster and what a King he would make!

‘Henry is heading for disaster,’ went on the Duke.

‘Greatly aided by that little virago from Anjou.’

‘And my lord Somerset.’

‘Do you think the rumours about him and the Queen are true?’

‘I know not, my love, but it serves the lady right that they are circulated against her. She is too affectionate to her friends and too vindictive to those whom she dislikes.’

‘I fear we fit into the second category,’ said Cecily.