I immediately felt for my wallet to make sure it hadn't been cut and screamed at them to keep away from my saddlebags. Of course, I had to pay a few debts. They were better cheaters at dice than me. I laughingly protested how I had forgotten all about it, whilst quietly vowing to recoup my losses at the first opportunity. I still have the dice I stole from them – Fulham dice, neatly brushed on one side so you know which way they are going to fall. (My chaplain throws his quill down and jumps up and down on his quilted cushion. 'You've cheated me! You've cheated me!' he screams.

Too bloody straight I did! I can't give the money back because I've spent it. Let that be a lesson to him, never, ever gamble – especially with me.)

We travelled all that day. The countryside was beautiful, ripening like a grape under the sun. The hedgerows were shiny green, the corn pushing its way through. The meadow grass was long and lush for the fat-bellied cattle that grazed it. Yet now and again we saw derelict farms, dying villages and fields no longer ploughed but turned into arable for the fat, short-tailed sheep to grace. Early on our second morning out of Ipswich, Benjamin reined in on the brow of a hill. He stared down at the fields spread out before us.

'Forty years ago,' he explained, 'this land was all ploughed.'

He pointed further down the track to where a gang of landless men were making their way up from a village.

'Such sights are becoming common,' he continued. 'The rich throw the poor off the land and bring in sheep, so they can sell the wool abroad.' He grasped the reins of his horse. 'Roger, as we go past them, distribute some alms. This will all end in tears.*

'It will end in blood.' Agrippa murmured. 'There've already been armed revolts in the West Country! The storm clouds are beginning to gather.'

'Hasn't the king read his history?' Benjamin asked, moving his horse forward.

Agrippa's black-gauntleted hand shot out and grasped Benjamin's arm.