Jack Cade

then let the room grow dark, let your breathing slow, and come with me to the riverside.

On our earlier visits, we walked the stews of Bankside, in the age of the Black Death, and in the turbulent summer of Jack Cade's rebellion.

Tonight, we arrive at the very end.

Strictly speaking.

In May, the king's hated favourite, the Duke of Suffolk, was seized at sea and beheaded on the side of a small boat.

And now, out of Kent, thousands of angry men have marched on London, behind a mysterious leader who calls himself John Mortimer, though history will remember him as Jack Cade.

Where have the rebels made their headquarters? Southwark.

Their leader has taken up lodgings at the White Hart, one of the great coaching inns on Southwark's High Street.

So she is stripped about the rules, but she also slips an extra crust to the newest girls, sends the sick ones to rest, and once marched up to a priest in the street and told him, to his face, that he owed one of her women four pence and an apology.

By the end of your first hour, you understand the simple truth of this house.

The king may rule England, the bishop may rule Bankside, and Jack Cade may rule Southwark for a night or two.

But under this roof, the only opinion that matters is Dame Joan's.