A Second Daniel

by Neal Roberts

  Noah looks at him skeptically. “Did he, Yeoman Gardner? I wonder. Under the same circumstances, would you have killed Meyrick?”

  “In a heartbeat, suh,” Gardner says without hesitation. Seeing Noah’s surprise at his frankness, he adds: “Oh, I like to be right, too, sir. But I’d rather stay alive.” He thinks for a moment. “On the other hand, maybe that’s why I’m suited to the Tower Guard, and Master Hawking is not. But that’s all right, as that’s not a position he’s up for, is it?”

  They rejoin Jonathan in the carriage, and set off back to the barn where they left the others. There’s something Noah wants to ask before rejoining them. “Yeoman Gardner,” he asks, “when may we see our client again?”

  Gardner obviously weighs his reply carefully. “Master Hawking will probably see Doctor Lopez in the next few days.” He’s pointedly omitted mention of Noah from this assurance, but he’ll say no more about it.

  Jonathan, Arthur, and Andres ride their own horses, while Bucklebury and Marie’s horse are tied abreast behind the carriage, each perfectly content to take the long walk without the extra weight of a rider.

  Because of the persistent pain in Noah’s back and side, he lies stretched out along one of the carriage seats all the way back to London. As there’s nothing to absorb the shock of the wheels hitting the road, Marie has placed several blankets under him, rolled up another, and tucked it under his knees, which seems to provide some relief. She graces the opposite seat.

  They doze off several times. It’s late afternoon by the time they reach London. From his reclining position, Noah can see the top of Bishopsgate, which means they’re entering London along the path by which they fled it the previous afternoon.

  From the tops of the few landmarks he can discern, he realizes they’re turning west on Candlewick Street, near the river, which strikes him as an unnecessarily roundabout way of reaching Gray’s Inn.

  As he’s feeling much better, he sits up and pats Marie’s hand. She smiles wanly. They pass Saint Paul’s on their right, and proceed through Ludgate onto Fleet Street, where they stop almost immediately. To their left is Serjeants’ Inn.

  Noah sticks his head out of the window, about to tell Gardner that he’s stopped prematurely, when Gardner opens the door to let them out.

  “I’m afraid you’ve inadvertently promoted me, Yeoman Gardner,” Noah protests. “I reside at Gray’s Inn.”

  Gardner smiles, and shakes his head confidently. “Wasn’t me who promoted you, sir. And whether it’s a mistake … well, that remains to be seen.”

  Noah is dazed by Gardner’s suggestion. Can Noah have been elevated to Serjeant because of yesterday’s events? Is that even possible?

  Noah steps down from the coach, and then assists Marie. As he turns to the inn, he realizes there’s a large group of Serjeants gathered in the vestibule just inside the outer door.

  Gardner whispers in his ear. “Your masked friends never entered the walled city, sir. They left us about ten miles back. Better they’re not seen with us.” Gardner calls to Jonathan, who dismounts and hands off his horse to the stableman. “Master Hawking, you’ll be staying here with your Master Ames until we can post some sentries outside your quarters at Gray’s Inn. Meantime, there’ll be two Tower guards stationed here next couple o’ weeks.” He whistles to two of his men, who hand off their horses to the stableman and take up positions beside the door.

  “And now, Master Ames, I suppose congratulations are ‘in order,’ as they say, but I don’t want to be stealin’ too much thunder from those fellas waitin’ for you inside. So, let me just say ‘congratulations.’ I’ll be leavin’ you now for a snore. I only slept a few hours last night before gettin’ the call, and then I realized I’d have to get to you before … they did, or the whole trip woulda turned out pointless.”

  Noah shudders at the implication. “Thank you very much, Yeoman Gardner. I knew I could rely on you.” He tries to give Gardner a handful of coins, but Gardner waves it away.

  “Thank you very much, suh, but I’ve got so many men here to pay that the Exchequer’s disbursin’ this one to me directly. Orders from the top!” He winks. “Besides, if you tried to bury all this lot under Administrative Expenses, I’m afeard you’d be comin’ to the Tower through that gate leadin’ up from the Thames, if you take my meanin’.” Noah shudders again. Traitor’s Gate. It’s commonly believed that no one who enters through that gate leaves the Tower alive. What a morbid sense of humor!

  Relieved that he put on a fresh shirt before beginning the return trip, Noah escorts Marie by the arm into Serjeants’ Inn, followed by Jonathan. As the doors open, the assemblage breaks out into applause. At the front of the pack, Lord Bleffingham beams at Noah. He’s holding two scrolls.

  “Serjeant Ames, it is my privilege to welcome you to the venerable ranks of the Serjeants-at-Law. We are an old French order dating from a time before the Conqueror, when — ”

  “Oh, let ’em in the door, Harold!” comes a good-humored shout from the rear. “They’re exhausted and hungry, and we’ve got a meal waiting for them. Let ’em eat it while it’s still hot!”

  “Very well,” says Bleffingham good-naturedly. “I hereby serve upon you this writ relieving you of your representation of Roderigo Lopez, and this second writ, which I implore you to read immediately.”

  So, Gardner knew that Noah was to be relieved as counsel to Doctor Lopez, which is why he referred to an upcoming meeting between Jonathan and Lopez while omitting any mention of Noah.

  “M’lord,” says Noah respectfully, “before opening this second scroll, may I ask what became of our motions in the Court of Oyer and Terminer? And how fares Doctor Lopez?”

  Bleffingham flinches almost imperceptibly. “All in good time, Master Ames. All in good time. But, for now, we must insist that you open this scroll and read.”

  He opens it, and, just as Gardner has foretold, it is letters patent appointing Noah Ames a Serjeant-at-Law. At its foot are the signatures of Lord Burghley and the Queen. Noah is speechless. To think that he’s spent the past day infuriating the Queen’s favorite and running for his life, and now the highest honor awardable to an English barrister is being bestowed upon him by that selfsame Queen. All very dizzying.

  He smiles at the assembled, who easily number twenty-five, waves the letters at them in his right hand, and shouts triumphantly: “I am one of you!”

  A cheer goes up.

  “Now,” says Bleffingham, “you must come eat and drink, and tell us of your perilous exploits.” He ushers them to places of honor at the head of the table.

  Bleffingham rises to give the first toast. “Welcome, Serjeant Ames.” He raises his glass. “You have returned to us like the judge of the Old Testament who escaped unscathed from the lions’ den. But, in your case, Serjeant Ames, the lions’ den was the Court of Oyer and Terminer, which is filled with lions far more terrifying than any dreamed of in the Old Testament. A neat trick, if you can pull it off, and, needless to say, one that many of your newfound brethren would like you to teach them.” This is met by good-humored shouts of approval.

  “To Noah Ames,” says Bleffingham, “a second Daniel!”

  “A second Daniel!” they shout as one, and drink deeply. After several additional toasts, they eat a hearty soup, and begin on a course of mutton.

  Even in his relief and joy, however, Noah realizes that his stomach is churning, and it’s not from eating in his famished condition. Rather, it’s that glint of pity he caught in Bleffingham’s eye at the mention of Lopez.

  Almost as though he’s been reading Noah’s mind, Bleffingham approaches him from behind, trailed by Jonathan. “Serjeant Ames, will you accompany Master Hawking and me for a moment?” He bows to Marie. “Pardon us for just a few minutes, Goodwife Rodriguez.” She nods patiently.

  Bleffingham escorts Noah and Jonathan to a room ordinarily used for private consultations between Serjeants and members of the Privy Council. As he closes the door behind them, Henry Neville eme
rges from a side room.

  “Master — or should I say ‘Serjeant’ Ames,” begins Henry. “I am glad to see you looking very little the worse for wear. You will be pleased to learn that your daughter remains safe in the company of my father. Welcome back, Jonathan. It must remain secret that I was here. As you may have guessed, it was I who told Gardner to look for you in the outbuildings at Arden’s farm.”

  Noah could kick himself. Of course it was Henry! He’s Arthur’s kinsman, after all, and must know the farm’s location. To Henry, their destination must have been obvious.

  Henry continues. “As someone need inform you, I must tell you that your omnibus motion before the Court of Oyer and Terminer was denied, and that Doctor Lopez was tried there this afternoon, and found guilty.”

  Noah and Jonathan almost fall down at the news. “What?” Noah stammers incredulously. “Then why all the celebration?”

  “Because,” says Henry, “Her Majesty was appalled to hear your incisive argument that to try a commoner in such a court violates Magna Carta. She is entirely rethinking use of such courts in the future. More importantly, for your purposes, she is considering vacating the conviction, and transferring the Lopez matter to Queen’s Bench. She has also instructed Robert Cecil to schedule a clemency hearing in the case.”

  “Where is Lopez now?” asks Noah.

  “The Tower. But, Serjeant Ames, you are forbidden to speak with him again. Until further notice, your client … your sole client … is the Crown. The Exchequer’s been notified to put you on the Crown’s pay. Oh, and he tells me you’d better submit your final bill for services to Lopez right away.” He smiles smugly. “Like it or not, Serjeant Ames, you are taking the Queen’s shilling, so you are the Queen’s man. I imagine you’ll be hearing that quite a lot in the coming days.”

  Noah can only smile to have his own words thrown back at him. “But who will serve as Lopez’s legal counsel?”

  Henry points to Jonathan. “As soon as the commission can be arranged, his counsel will be Master Hawking.”

  Well, that’s a relief. Then, Noah remembers Coke’s reaction to several of his arguments. “And Coke?” he asks. “Had he no problem dispensing with our arguments?”

  Henry and Bleffingham exchange a knowing look.

  “I cannot afford to be seen with you just now,” says Henry. “However, Lord Bleffingham has told me that he will be kind enough to escort you two to Coke’s window at Inner Temple. Meanwhile, I will congratulate you both on your courage, and Serjeant Ames on the occasion of his elevation. I bid you all adieu, although I will be seeing you soon.” Henry bows low, and departs through the side room.

  Lord Bleffingham escorts them outside to Inner Temple, which is nearby. As they reach the side of the inn from which Coke’s room looks out, the setting sun brightly illuminates the windows.

  The old judge points out Coke’s window. “It’s there on the first story, third from the left.”

  Noah and Jonathan peer up, shielding their eyes from the reflected sunlight. And there he sits in Coke’s window, after having changed hands so often, sometimes by force, sometimes by stealth.

  “Finerty!” exclaims Jonathan.

  “Shhhh, Master Hawking. Master Coke is surely sleeping now. He is probably the only man in England to have been awake more hours than you have for the past two days.”

  “I wonder what he intended by putting that silly dog in the window,” muses Jonathan.

  “I should think it clear,” says Noah. “He was signifying to me — and you, Jonathan — that we had bested him, just as we had in the trial where Finerty made his first appearance.”

  “Bested him?” asks Jonathan. “How? He went ahead as Crown counsel in the Court of Oyer and Terminer, and convicted our client!”

  Noah shakes his head. “But in that he was only doing his job. No, we bested him prior to that. Unless I’m mistaken, he argued our case to the Court long after you and I fled for Oxfordshire.” He looks to Bleffingham, who nods gravely.

  “That is correct,” says the old jurist. “He argued assiduously on two principal points. First, the diplomatic immunity issue. Then, Magna Carta.”

  “How long did it go on?”

  “I understand he returned to Inner Temple just before dawn, slept for two hours, then returned for trial.”

  “Are you suggesting he argued for twelve hours?” asks Jonathan.

  “As I heard it from Master Neville,” says Lord Bleffingham, “there was ‘blood on the walls.’ No one left the entire time. Essex had learned of your escape within minutes, and was beside himself all evening and all night. He threatened Coke with everything he could think of. I fear — ”

  Noah looks at him somberly. “You fear he may have ruined his chances for Attorney General?”

  “I’m afraid so. Even the Cecils were furious at him, as they now had to explain to Her Majesty that two of the best practicing lawyers in the land believe the Court of Oyer and Terminer to violate Magna Carta.”

  After a long silence, Noah thinks to break the solemnity of the moment, saying to Jonathan: “Your nephew should really take that dog back.”

  “No,” says Bleffingham. “It should rather be placed in the national archives. You and Coke have begun an argument that is capable of only one resolution, although your position may take many years to prevail.

  Chapter 29

  AT SERJEANTS’ INN, Marie is assigned a comfortable room reserved for visiting dignitaries and the occasional female visitor. Nevertheless, as soon as her children return from Uncle Horace’s the second week of March, she resumes residence at her house in Holborn. Noah has become a frequent dinner guest there, and spends as much time with her as propriety will allow.

  Jonathan receives a note from Yeoman Gardner, assuring him that, although a special guard has been posted at Gray’s Inn to ensure his safety, Essex’s men have been called off.

  Jonathan moves out of Serjeants’ Inn one morning without fanfare. On his way out of the door, Noah approaches him. “I wish you the very best of luck,” he says, shaking his hand, “although you’ve shown yourself quite capable of making your own good fortune. Doctor Lopez finds himself in very accomplished hands.”

  “Might you assist in preparing his case for clemency?” Jonathan asks sheepishly.

  Noah shakes his head. “It’s forbidden, I’m afraid. I’ve been summoned to serve as Queen’s counselor at the hearing.” He looks around to make sure he’s not being overheard by others. “I might suggest, however, that you make discreet inquiries of Master Neville. And, by all means, recruit the jesters. They’re not just men at arms, you know.” He winks.

  Jonathan leaves, looking a little unsure of himself.

  Henry appears very early for supper one evening at Serjeants’ Inn, before the residents have begun gathering in the vestibule. “Shall you be staying to supper, Serjeant Ames?” he asks.

  Noah senses something beneath this sudden formality. Henry opens his eyes wide and tilts his head toward the room where they met surreptitiously on the day of Noah’s elevation to Serjeant. Noah signals his understanding. “I shall, Master Neville,” he replies blandly. “I’ll see you at supper, then.”

  Instead of going directly to the room indicated by Henry, Noah visits the pigeonholes located by the inn’s entrance, and painstakingly opens each letter in his. He slips each one into his pocket after reading it, then takes a roundabout path to his rendezvous with Henry. When he arrives, Henry is waiting, and gestures for Noah to close the door behind him.

  “Essex has been investigating your past,” he pronounces gravely.

  Noah smirks. “Better than a sleeping draught.”

  “Noah, this is serious. This morning, his men took Master Treasurer off the street and escorted him to Essex House for an interview with the earl.”

  “‘Arrested him for interrogation’ would be nearer the mark. They wouldn’t dare do that at Gray’s Inn.”

  “What does Master Treasurer know?” asks Henry.


  “That I have led an exemplary, downright boring life to date,” Noah says. “But … he probably suspects I’m a Jew.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, he’s in charge of the roll of barristers. His records of my admission to the bar would look a bit different from those of the other residents.”

  “How so?”

  “Although there would be an oath of loyalty to the Crown, there would be no certification that the Eucharist had been administered to me and that I had sworn to be faithful to the Church of England. Ordinarily, that’s a requirement for admission to the bar.”

  “Or indeed for any post of responsibility in England. What is there in place of the certification?”

  “In my case, there would be a Crown waiver of the oath.”

  “Signed by whom?”

  Noah opens his eyes wide, as though to say “you know perfectly well by whom.”

  “I see,” says Henry. “Is there any chance Master Treasurer would disclose that to Essex?”

  “Under torture?” He’s loath to think about it, and when he forces himself to, he can only shrug.

  “Not torture. Essex isn’t that stupid.”

  “No, but he is that ruthless, I assure you,” says Noah. “I doubt the old man would voluntarily tell Essex anything about my admission papers, or anyone else’s, for that matter. He’s sworn to secrecy, and he takes that sort of thing very seriously.”

  “As well he should,” says Henry. “Where are the records kept?”

  “Good question. I believe they’re kept at the inn, but I’m not sure.”

  “Could you remove them, if you wanted to?”

  Noah is initially outraged, but then remembers that he’s speaking to his dearest friend. “That would be the worst thing I could do. And don’t you do it, either. Tampering with official records would be tantamount to a confession of wrongdoing. What I can’t figure out is why Essex hasn’t just asked Master Savile, who’s one of his own secretaries. I was reared in his house, for heaven’s sake.”