Greed

by D Thomas Jewett

  William’s gaze was immediately drawn to the far side of the room. A dart game was going on, and the throng of ale-drinking men were jostling each other for the best view. William heard a cheer go up as the players walked up to the dart board and collected their darts. They be wagering on the game, William thought. And Joseph is playing! I wonder ‘ow he’s doin’? Weaving his way over to the dart game, he stood among the throng and shouted, “Joseph, ‘ey Joseph!”

  Joseph was a burly, bearded man, accustomed to consuming large amounts of ale. Without saying a word, he held his glass high in a greeting to William, tipped his glass up, and swallowed another gulp. He turned his focus back to the game.

  As William made his way toward the bar, he heard a familiar voice ring out through the din. “Greetings, William!”

  William scanned the room, his eyes keying on a lean rawboned man standing behind the bar. “Henri,” he shouted through the noise. He made his way through the throng and reached the bar, smiling. “Henri, it does me good to see you!”

  “As do I,” Henri replied as they shook hands. “Get you an ale, I will.” And Henri turned to the tap and drained some brown ale into a pint-size mug. He turned and handed the glass to William. “And there’s plenty more where that came from!”

  Another cheer went up from the dart game.

  “Your family is well?” William asked.

  “Aye, mate,” Henri replied with a smile. “And yours?”

  “Aye. Keeps me busy, they do!”

  Then Henri’s expression turned serious. “And what are ye ‘earing these days?”

  “War,” William replied, a disheartened tone in his voice. “Rumors, mostly. But during my life there’s been much war, there ‘as. And I ‘ave no reason to doubt that more is coming.”

  “Well,” Henri interjected, “I ‘eard a rumor, I did.” Henri leaned over the bar, closer to William’s ear. He whispered in earnest. “I ‘eard the King is planning to take all of the merchants’ gold and silver on deposit at the Mint, I did.”

  William looked at Henri with a frown. “The King would not do that, would ‘e?”

  “Aye,” Henri replied, “the King would do anything to fund his wars, ‘e would!”

  William’s shoulders and neck stiffened. “But I ‘ave my gold, my silver at the mint!”

  “As do I, my friend!”

  “And it’s all I own!”

  “Aye. I do also!”

  William peered at Henri through tightly-drawn eyes. “How many know of this?”

  “Few,” Henri replied. “So far, just a few!”

  “Keep it quiet, my friend?”

  “Aye. But it won’t stay quiet for long!”

  William nodded. “Well, get my gold out of the mint, I will. Before the King can steal it!”

  “Aye, my friend. As will I.” Henri frowned. “But where shall you keep it?” Henri asked.

  Just then, a cheerful Joseph stepped up to the bar next to William. “Greetings, gentlemen – and I use that language advisedly,” he chortled. “William, it does me good to see you.”

  “As do I,” William responded. And then William’s face lit up. “Joseph. If I may be so forward to ask ... per chance, do you keep your gold at the goldsmith’s depository?”

  Joseph began the process of lighting his corncob pipe. He peered at William out of the corner of his eye as he took several drags, and then he answered. “Aye, William. I do indeed keep my wealth there; what little I ‘ave. An honest man, the goldsmith is – I‘ve ‘ad many dealings with ‘im.”

  “In fact,” Joseph continued, “I leave my gold and silver on deposit with ‘im, and ‘e gives me receipts. I can use the receipts to claim my gold at any time, or I can use ‘em for trading. It’s much easier than carrying the ‘eavy metal, and the receipts make it easy to split up a piece of gold into smaller portions.”

  “Good,” William replied. “I shall leave tomorrow to retrieve my money from the mint.”

  “As will I,” Henri chimed in. “In fact, I propose that we travel together. After all; strength in numbers, there is.”

  “Aye,” William assented.

  Thus, William and Henri departed for London the next morning, returning three days later with their wealth in hand.

  * * *

  On the morning following their return ...

  Henri was up and out the door early – with barely a kiss even to his wife. I hope Elizabeth forgives me, he thought. He hit a quick stride on his trek to the goldsmith. Walking purposely through the village centre, he nodded cursorily to several of the merchants who were just opening up their stores. He continued on toward the north side of the village. I wonder what time the goldsmith shoppe opens?

  He walked past a vendor who had an early customer.

  “... I will accept a note for 6 pieces – my final offer, it is!”

  “Done,” was the reply. The buyer turned over a piece of paper – a claim on silver held at the local goldsmith – and the vendor gave him his merchandise. People felt like they had extra money to spend, and few noticed that prices seemed to be rising.[1]

  Henri continued on his trek...

  * * *

  Built on a mound overlooking the village, the goldsmith’s office was the largest and most prominent structure in the village. With a sweeping view of the town and the surrounding countryside, it was built from stone and mortar, with granite steps leading up to the entrance. Interestingly, the stone, granite, and setting lent a palatial feeling to the site; as though the King was soon to appear.

  Henri reached the goldsmith’s office just as an aide was opening the doors. He waited at the bottom of the stairs; taking in the sight of the building and the guards posted at the entrance. And then he gazed at the sign posted over the main entrance. It read simply, Goldsmith.

  When Henri entered the goldsmith’s realm, he was immediately overwhelmed by the wealth on display. For as he gazed around the chamber, he could see several exquisite pieces hanging from the walls, in various stages of creation. Wealth, Henri thought, a long time to acquire, it did! How did ‘e collect all of this! Henri shook his head in wonderment as his eyes shifted from one display to another.

  The goldsmith broke Henri’s concentration. “I’m Ian,” the goldsmith said simply, “Ian Williams.”

  “Aye, mate,” Henri replied. “And I’m Henri – Henri Aleman.”

  “Greetings, Henri. How may I help you? ...”

  * * *

  Henri departed the goldsmith’s office, with a smile on his face. He felt around in his pocket, feeling the texture of paper receipts – receipts that represented the gold and silver that Ian now held on deposit. All right! He thought. Much easier to handle, these are, than heavy gold and silver coin!

  Henri thought back to his conversation with Ian ...

  “These days, I’m sure you’ve noticed that most people trade with the paper, rather than with real coin. So, it is good that we all come into the 17th century.” Ian paused and then continued. “And at the pub, I’m sure you see receipts from the mint, as well as from various goldsmiths – so, it doesn’t matter where the receipt comes from. And,” he paused, looking at Henri, “you don’t have to carry around all that heavy coin ... And you can break a gold coin into smaller portions; so it gives you more bargaining power when you negotiate.”

  “... And if you want your gold returned, you need only endorse your receipts – I will immediately redeem them for gold or silver.”

  Henri bounded down the stairs, paused, and glanced back. My wealth is secure.

  * * * * *

  Lugging a bucket, Colin Martin struggled with the added weight as he trudged along the road. He stopped and placed it on the ground, allowing his heavy breathing to recede as he scanned the countryside.

  From his vantage, he could see only grass extending north and south. But he was traveling west on a well-used dirt road, and he could see his destination in the distance – a small clump of homes. And just beyond the homes he could see a small
town dotting the landscape. He didn’t bother to look behind him, for he had already traveled that stretch of road and knew that it led downhill toward the sea.

  Colin was growing up. Now at the tender age of 12, the blonde-haired blue-eyed boy was old enough to catch fish for his family’s dinner – at least a couple of evenings a week. Colin’s family could enjoy the fish because his route from the grammar school to his home took him near the ocean. And thus he needed only a fishing pole and a small detour to obtain the fish, bringing them to his family – about a mile inland.

  He looked down at the bucket – it was wooden, and with a cover across the top to keep the water and fish inside. He hoisted it and resumed his trek home.

  * * *

  Colin soon approached the house, walking past a chicken shed and garden to his right. It was a small house; built of stone, brick, and mortar, and covered in a thatch roof. The windows were small and sparse, with many panes of thick glass distorting the view into the interior.

  He walked up to the door and reached for the handle. And then he heard Claire’s voice from inside the house say, “Mother, when is Colin to arrive? I’m hungry.”

  Colin pushed on the door and stepped into the house. He had a sheepish expression as he looked down to the dirt floor. “Late, I am. Sorry.”

  William placed his quill on the book in front of him, and then looked at Colin. “What happened?” He asked.

  Colin sighed and said, “The fish were not biting at first, Father.”

  William nodded his disappointment and then asked, “And the catch, my son? How was it?”

  “I got flounder – four big ones.”

  William smiled and said, “Aye, Master Colin. Wonderful!”

  Marion stopped her dinner preparation and made for the bucket. She took the bucket from his hand and said, “Give ‘em to me, dear. I’ll clean and put ‘em on the fire.”

  Colin sat down at the table next to William. Feeling the warmth radiate from the hearth, he looked around the room. He didn’t really notice the white stucco walls, adorned as they were with homemade tapestry and hanging curios. Nor did he notice the floor – dirt, with home-weaved rugs covering the traffic areas. But he did notice his older sister Claire, preparing dinner on the countertop – which to this point consisted only of vegetables.

  He looked down at the tabletop, made of rough-hewn pine and smoothed by whatever means only his father knew. And then he noted the dishes and dinnerware – and that there were four place settings arranged on the table. We always use pewter for dinner, he thought. Mother says it’s the best we have.

  William looked at Colin and said, “And ‘ow was school today?”

  “Fine,” Colin replied.

  “And what did you learn today?”

  “Numbers, Father. And bookkeeping.”

  “Bookkeeping?”

  “Yes, Father. So we may keep our money in order.”

  “And what else did you learn?”

  “Writing, Father.”

  “Good,” William exclaimed.

  William picked up the quill and continued to write in the book.

  “What is that, Father?”

  “Tis my diary, Master Colin.”

  “What is a diary, Father?”

  William leaned back in his chair and stole a deep breath. And then he said, “A diary is a place where we write our thoughts, our experiences, of a very personal nature. It is where we write about ourselves.”

  “And what are you writing today, Father?”

  William gazed at his son and smiled. And then he replied, “Writing about the King and the Goldsmith, I am. As you know, Mr. Aleman and I just returned from London, where we withdrew our wealth from the mint. Well, today I deposited our wealth with the local goldsmith, Ian Williams, for safekeeping.”

  “But why did you withdraw our wealth from the mint?”

  “Because there’s rumour that the King was to take all the people’s wealth from the mint and use it to finance his war.”

  “That sounds bad,” Colin said.

  “Indeed, Master Colin, it is bad. Because today, I’ve ‘eard that the King did indeed take the people’s wealth from the mint!”

  The door opened and Marion brought flounder into the house. The family said grace, and then they proceeded with their dinner.

  Chapter 2

  Two years later . . .

  It was yet another raucous evening at Henri’s pub, and a throng of men were seated, standing, or weaving amongst the crowd – but all were partaking of ale. And with the smell of ale wafting through the tobacco smoke, Henri was busily serving up drink to yet another customer. The customer grinned and raised his newly filled quart mug. “Thanks, Henri – and cheers!”

  Henri raised his own mug. “And cheers to you, mate. Bottom’s up!” Henri brought the mug to his lips and took a swallow.

  Like so many times that evening, Henri pulled out a cleaning cloth and began wiping down the bar. Just as he was finishing, Joseph Crispin stepped up. “Henri, it does me good to see you,” he said. “Ye doing well, I trust?”

  “Aye, Joseph. All is well. And with you?”

  Joseph was bubbling over with excitement. “Aye, Henri. I just returned from Essex, and I’ve decided to buy some property there.” Joseph smiled broadly. “I’ll be moving there as soon as the deal is done.”

  “Aye. Sounds grand, it does.”

  “And grand it is, Henri. Tis good for my children – there’s lots more children for them to play with. And the land,” he paused with a gleam in his eye, “the land ‘as forest. And it ‘as lots of space for cultivation and grazing. And there’s a great water source!”

  Henri looked across the bar into Joseph’s eyes. “Ye will be missed, my friend. Ye will be missed!”

  * * *

  The next morning, Joseph was waiting at the entrance to the goldsmith’s office when it opened. He wasted no time approaching the goldsmith’s desk. “Greetings, Ian,” he said.

  Ian looked up from his work, his mouth shifting slightly as he attempted a smile. His square jaw barely moved as he spoke. “And greetings to you, my friend Joseph. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  Joseph placed a stack of receipts on Ian’s desk and smiled. “These are receipts for 54 troy ounces of gold and 76 troy ounces of silver. I’d like to withdraw all of my coin, please.”

  Ian looked at the stack of receipts and slowly placed his quill down on the desk. His meager attempt at a smile dissolved as his forehead furrowed. He looked up at Joseph. “That’s quite a sum. Are you certain you wish to withdraw all of it?”

  “Aye, Ian. Certain, I am.”

  “Are you not aware that you can trade with these receipts as though they were coin?”

  “Aye. Aware, I am. But I am buying some land over in Essex. And the agreement requires that I pay coin. Also, I wish to take all of my coin and deposit it with an institution closer to Essex.”

  Ian grasped the receipts in his hands and examined them one by one. Ian stroked his chin and then looked up at Joseph, a somber expression on his face. “Well, they all appear to be in order.”

  Ian stood up from his desk and walked over to the vault. He pulled on the vault door. It creaked as it opened, and then Ian entered.

  Standing by the desk, Joseph could hear some rustling inside the vault; but his angle in relation to the vault inhibited his view of the interior. Finally, Ian came out of the vault wearing a frown.

  Ian ran his hand through his brown hair. “I’m sorry,” he confessed, not looking at Joseph. “But this is a large quantity of gold and silver. I will need to go to my hidden off-site vault and retrieve the gold that you require.” He took a deep breath and then continued. “If you return tomorrow, I shall give you all of your coin.”

  Joseph stood at the desk – his expression was one of confusion. “Wait,” his voice quivered. “You agreed to give me all of my coin on demand. And now – you tell me I must wait!”

  “It is only a day,” Ian said a
s he looked directly at Joseph. “I know our agreement. But I had no idea that anyone would withdraw this quantity all at once and without notice. I do not keep that much wealth here; so it will take me some time to obtain it. I promise I will have it for you tomorrow. In the morning.”

  Joseph’s face was now red. “Very well,” he hissed. “I shall return in the morning!”

  * * *

  Early evening found Joseph at the pub, sitting across the table from William … “Fit to be tied, I am. Fit to be tied!” Joseph blurted out. “Something tells me that damn goldsmith has been playing fast and loose with my money. Ye should have seen the look on his face when I asked for my coin!”

  William listened. He looked over at Joseph and then shifted his eyes to his pipe – watching a trail of smoke wafting up from it. Finally, he spoke. “Maybe Ian is being truthful – maybe he really does have most of the coin stored elsewhere. This seems wise and prudent to me.”

  Joseph seemed to relax a bit. “What you say is logical.” Joseph’s voice was steady but stern. “But so heavily guarded his office is; why would he store it elsewhere? No sense, this makes to me. And even so, he should stand by his word and pay me at the time of my choosing. After all,” Joseph spat, “that I could have my money immediately, he committed. And now he has reneged!”

  Joseph was getting even more worked up as he continued. “The look in his eyes, bastard that he is ...” And in his most profane language, Joseph went on to describe his encounter with Ian.

  But in the middle of his diatribe, Henri came up to the table. He listened; his face turning red as Joseph continued his rant.