by Miriam Bibby
“Thank you.”
George sat down again and the judge turned to Clink.
“Well? What have ye to say for yourself?”
Clink looked innocently at the judge.
“I’m not sayin’ it wasn’t cut, your honour. It had that look about it, but I’m no expert. All I’m saying is, whoever cut it, didn’t do it proper, like. They didn’t take it. It was when I was just going to point it out to ‘im - ” he nodded at Piggen ” - that he moved suddenly and it came away in me hand, and the other co - man - shouted out that it was me that cut it. It’s all a mistake, your honour. And no chance was I given to give my version of events before being taken and dragged off to the harmans, that’s to say, the wooden stocks.” Clink, knowing when to stop, fell silent, sniffed haughtily and looked at the courtroom.
“Hmmm,” said the judge. There was a pause, then Selby turned to the pigman. “Of how much, precisely, Piggen, were you - relieved? And in what form of coin?”
“Well, sir,” said Piggen, “I can’t quite remember all; but ‘tis all in the deposition, sir, initialled by Master Cantle.”
“And it was of a certainty more than twelve pence; more than a shilling? For the theft of a shilling’s worth of goods or money is certainly a felony.”
“Aye, sir. Of a certainty.”
“And this money was restored to you in its entirety?”
“Aye, your worship.”
“Aye,” said Selby, with relish. “To summarise; we have heard the indictment raised against the accused by Justice Brough. For felony. We have heard from Barnabas Piggen that he was robbed; we have heard from the prisoner that he did not take the purse with felonious intent. Now all of this cannot be true and will be hard to prove or disprove one way or the other, in the absence of other witnesses to the event. And the nature of a crime, if crime there has been, is dependent upon the degree of contact between the perpetrator of the crime and his victim, and its nature; thus providing us, exempli gratia, with a distinction between theft and robbery. Furthermore, the definition of a crime is of great legal concern, as we have seen with regard to the robber and murderer Giddens.” Selby stressed the words “murderer” and “robber” with great relish and glared round the court. Everyone started back into life, having drifted off somewhat during the first part of his remarks.
Clink’s face began to look greenish.
“However,“continued Selby, “the indictment speaks of felony, and if the prisoner did indeed cut the purse with the intention of taking the money for his own purposes and pleasure, then it is a felony - is it not? Well, let us see when we turn to the full details of the deposition, since we have only heard that matter in part. Clerk! Read us the details of the deposition, if you will.” He settled back again and George, looking at the expression on the judge’s face, thought that if he had been any other man, he would have been chuckling and rubbing his hands. As it was Selby, however, he simply sat with narrowed eyes and an unfathomable look on his face. George was immediately suspicious. Selby was up to something - and he was enjoying it. Glancing at Clink, George saw the face of a man who felt he was already condemned.
The Clerk stood up and began to list the money that was in the pigman’s purse. “Item: three pennies. Item: one groat. Item: two farthings. Item: three halfpennies. Item: a counterstamped shilling. Item: a lead token - issued for an alehouse? ‘Tis not clear.”
“Was the lead token issued under local license?” interjected Selby.
“Unspecified, Master Selby,” replied the Clerk. He looked at the pigman who simply looked vague. And slightly furtive.
“Discounted,” said Selby decisively. “Legitimate coin of the realm only.”
“That is all, sir,” said the Clerk.
“So, let us recount,” said Selby. “Three pennies, a groat, two farthings, three ha’pennies and a counterstamped shilling - from the reign of our young King Edward, may he rest in peace, I take it?” - the Clerk shrugged and nodded - “making in total?” The judge glared around the courtroom. “Well, come along, how much is that in total?”
George glanced around him and saw that the entire room was in agonies of contemplation. Some of the jury were busily counting on their fingers. The Clerk, staring upwards as though the answer was on the ceiling, was running over the list and periodically shaking his head and starting again. Even the pigman was frowning as he tried to add it all up. Clink looked around the court with astonishment on his face, the first animation he had shown. Next to George, Sir Richard was mumbling.
“Thruppence; and fourpence for the groat is sevenpence, and - George, what else did he say? You saw the deposition.”
George could only shake his head. He feared if he said anything he would start to laugh. He was looking forward to recounting the scene to Sim.
“It was more like a schoolroom than a courtroom,” he could hear himself saying. “At any moment I expected to see a finger point at me and hear Selby say, ‘You, boy! How much is that? Hurry up, I haven’t all day’.”
Eventually the judge grew tired of waiting.
“Useless! Useless!” he snapped. “Well, I shall tell you - and as for you, sirrah - ” with a glance at the pigman “let me tell you, my father’s pigman would have known precisely the value of the coins he had in his purse, precisely to the farthen! Well, it is exactly, exactly, thirteen and one half pence! “The judge looked around smugly. Everyone looked relieved. That was a felony, then. Goods to the value of more than twelve pence.
“Were it not for the fact,” hissed the judge, suddenly leaning forward and glaring at them all, “that one of those coins was - ” and here he almost leered around the court with a single eye popping at them whilst the other was half closed “a counterstamped shilling of the reign of King Edward, God rest his soul. Counterstamped, aye. But for how much? Eh? Eh?”
There was an appalled silence in the courtroom. George realised where the judge had been leading them. When Elizabeth had come to the throne, the shortage of good coins had led to the reissue of debased shillings from Edward VI’s reign. These were counterstamped to reflect the actual value of their silver content - either fourpence ha’penny or twopence farthing. Which one was it in this case?
“Well?” said the judge, looking directly at the pigman.
“I - I - can’t recall, your honour,” stuttered Piggen eventually.
“You can’t recall?” said the judge, almost benignly. He looked around with a triumphant air. “Well, let me help you. Can y’recall the counterstamp? Because you see, if the coins were counterstamped to the value of twopence farthing, it brings us to a total of - well?”
Everyone started looking worried again.
“I will tell you,” said the judge with finality. “A total of eleven pence and one farthing. Eleven pence one farthing, good people. Less than twelvepence. And therefore NOT a felony. And where are those coins now, Piggen?”
“I’ve spent ‘em,” said the pigman miserably.
“You’ve spent them.” The judge settled back again. “And ye can’t recall what was stamped on the shilling? Let me help ye, man. ‘Twould either have been a portcullis - or a greyhound. Which was it? The portcullis - or the greyhound?”
“Well, sir…” began Piggen slowly, looking at Selby, “it seems to me that it had the value of fourpence halfpenny, your honour … I recall it had a dog stamped on it and so …”
“Wrong!” shouted the judge. “That would be twopence farthing!”
There was a pause. Then Selby let the courtroom have his opinion on the presenting of this case. It was hot and strong and indiscriminate. Everyone came in for some of his vitriol, from the absent Sim to the unfortunate Justice Brough, who was still at home with his terrible toothache - although George wondered about this - to the pigman, the Clerk, and the quality of schoolmasters in this maladjusted age. The Clerk of the Assize was visibly shrinking and his face was scarlet as he listened to Selby’s tirade. Finally the judge turned to Clink.
“And as fo
r you, we shall return you to the jail to await our decision on your future. Case adjourned until the morrow. Wilson!” The Judge was addressing the Clerk, who walked swiftly over. As George watched the two of them in close conversation with one another, the Clerk nodded and glanced across to catch George’s eye. Selby leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. The Clerk began to cross the courtroom.
“Sir George Paston, a word in your ear, if you please, sir!”
George felt a slight stab of apprehension.
“Sir George,” began the Clerk, frowning, “His honour Judge Selby has advised me that he is minded to dismiss this case.” He paused, before beginning again in a lower tone, “Judge Selby advised me that he thought the case was - messily presented - his precise words - and that your cousin should have made a note of the true value of the coins when he had the opportunity. This case should have been matter for the petty jury.”
“My apologies to Judge Selby,” said George glancing across at the judge, who was staring into space. “We had many concerns that day.”
“However,” continued the Clerk, “he also said there is other matter concerning this prisoner. It seems to Judge Selby that this John Parkins is clearly a vagrant and has also, according to the evidence presented by yourself today, broken out of custody. I think this is the concern of the Guildern justices, is it not? Or his parish of origin?”
George understood. Clink was an irritating nuisance rather than a serious problem and he should never have ended up in this court. The easiest way to deal with him was to move him on or to find more substantial matter to present against him - and to do it properly this time. It was not unusual for rogues to be moved around in this fashion since no one wanted the responsibility or the expense of them. Were he to be found guilty of vagrancy - which he would be - he would be burned through the ear and set to labouring work. He would be little better than a slave. There was nothing George could do but agree with the Clerk - and Judge Selby.
“One last thing, Sir George,” continued the Clerk, in a more friendly fashion. “We - er, that is I - understand that you have an engagement to ride Sir Richard Grasset’s horse in a forthcoming match. That is so, is it not? Well, Judge Selby has decided that this rogue shall be kept under lock and key until you have done so. And - ” he glanced round at the Judge and lowered his voice again ” - perhaps you will be so good as to advise us of the horse’s chances in this match … ?”
Chapter 8: The Running Horses
Ruby hurried away from the courtroom without any clear idea of where she was going or what she was going to do. She found herself wandering over a piece of common land with some trees on it. It was quiet and peaceful. Without realising it, Ruby had found what she needed at that time: solitude. She began to half pray, half argue with something or someone that was invisible. An occasional sob constricted her throat.
“Why should Clink be imprisoned - or die - for what he did? There’s plenty who consider themselves above the rest of us who do harm and they never gets taken up. Fine lords and ladies; they never pay for nothing. Why don’t you let him go? Just send him free, ye - oh!” Ruby suddenly stopped and put her hand to her mouth. She was shocked to see a man, carrying a bundle of firewood, who was looking at her curiously. He had immensely broad shoulders and strong arms, but he was not tall and this was partly why she hadn’t seen him sooner; the other reason was that he had been stooping down to pick up another small log of wood. He didn’t say anything, simply looked at her with interest. She noticed, despite her shock and grief, that he was good-looking. He had glossy dark hair and a black beard and his eyes were large, sharp and intelligent. He looked … strong. Solid. Ruby sniffed back her tears and stole another glance at him.
“My pardon,” she said. “I - I didn’t know … “
The man shook his head.
“Nothing harmed,” he said. “But - forgive me - you seem to be in great sorrow. I do not wish to intrude - but - can I aid you in some way?”
Ruby shook her head.
“‘Tis kind of you, but - no,” she said and sighed deeply. The man did not move away.
Zacharias saw an attractive woman with long, dark hair hanging loose around her brown face. Ruby had fastened up her hair for the courtroom but it had tumbled down around her shoulders after she ran out and she was scarcely aware of it. Zacharias noticed the fine lines around her eyes that suggested, despite the current seriousness of her expression, she laughed often and fully. There she was, standing under an old May tree, giving him the occasional wary glance whilst he just carried on staring. The scent of the May blossom suddenly carried over to him in all its strength, sparking a memory. He had been very small and had found this wonderful flower, which smelled so intriguing, and had broken small branches of it and carried armfuls home for his mother. He had just been about to take it into the house when one of his mother’s elderly relatives, who was visiting and was seated outside, stood up in alarm.
“Blod mam mawr!” she had called. It was the old tongue, Welsh, and a warning that these flowers were death to the mother if brought into the house, although he only found that out much later. His mother had reacted strangely, Zacharias considered. She had just smiled at Zacharias, hugged and thanked him - and then, to her relative’s horror, brought some of the flowers inside.
“They are beautiful,” she said. “How could they mean harm?” And she did not die, not for years anyway. She had no fear for many of the things that caused fear in others. She was a brave woman and she matched his father in spirit. All this was in Zacharias’s mind as he stared at Ruby. He gave his handsome smile and Ruby drew a sharp breath.
It was all too much for her. Suddenly she broke into sobs, turned around and ran off again.
“Wait!” said Zacharias, but it was too late. He watched her run away and then turned back to collecting wood, his thoughts turning around her. She was a comely woman, despite her sorrowful look. It had been a curious coincidence. Usually he would have sent one of the local lads to collect wood for him, but he had needed to clear his head because he was expecting a visitor - and that meeting would certainly need all the attention he could give it. Slowly he made his way back to his home.
When Amiot Goldspink knocked tentatively at his door, Zacharias was ready for him.
“Come in, Amiot,” said Zacharias in a kindly fashion. Amiot sat down. Zacharias poured him some ale and sat facing him, watching him closely. His eyes were almost, but not quite, twinkling. “And how goes it?”
“Well, Zacharias. It goes well.” Amiot gave the lie to this by putting a hand up to his mouth and starting to bite a nail; and then, realising what he was doing, he dropped the hand and gave a sickly smile.
“No more wagers?”
“None, Zacharias. I said I will take no more.” Amiot seemed almost relieved.
“Good, good. ‘Tis wearing, is it not, having a care for large amounts of precious gold?”
“Aye, Zacharias; and none knows better than you. And I!” Amiot heaved a great sigh. As Zacharias carried on looking at him with his shrewd eyes, Amiot began to look uneasy.
“It’s gold I wish to discuss with you, Amiot,” said Zacharias. He had suddenly found something very interesting in the corner of the room and fixed his gaze on it.
“Oh?” said Goldspink, innocently, but his voice quavered a little.
“Aye. Y’see, my old friend, I have discovered your - secret. What you have been doing with the gold. Before it came to me.”
Goldspink suddenly deflated and started to babble. “‘Tis not a crime, Zacharias! No-one is hurt by this. How can it be a crime?”
Zacharias sat quietly. Goldspink ran on.
“How did you guess, Zacharias? Ye’d surely not tell on me? Not your old friend - Zacharias, I beg you …”
Zacharias held up a hand. “As to how I discovered it; ‘twas more of a skill than guessing. The gold - felt - wrong to me.”
Amiot sat twisting his hands together miserably.
“I’d nev
er felt temptation like that before, Zacharias. To see - all that gold - come by so easily. Some of ‘em were going to lose it anyway. What did it matter if they lost a bit more - to me?”
“You’d not clipped coins before, I could tell that, Amiot.”
Amiot gave a short laugh.
“You must have examined every one of ‘em, then, Zacharias!”
“That I did. I know gold. And I got to know every one of those coins. I could see the ones where you were still doing trials on them. Y’didn’t quite know what you were doing. But then you got the feel o’ it. You did not too bad a job of work then, Amiot.”
Silence fell. Then Amiot looked across at his friend, almost despairingly.
“How do you resist it, Zacharias? All that gold; every day, all that gold! And silver!”
“‘Tis different when you work with it,” said Zacharias, in a matter of fact tone. “Is there aught else you should tell me? Did you do - aught else with the coins?”
