by Ann Swinfen
It had not taken more than a week or two for me to realise that something dangerous was brewing in the land. And my fellow law students were hotly debating the merits of some strange new ideas that had begun to circulate. That was when I first heard the name of Freeborn John, John Lilburne. His pamphlets circulated amongst us, with their revolutionary ideas of equality amongst men, of a fair society in which poor men would not be oppressed by the rich, where even a king must be subject to the law. We young men were mostly excited by these ideas, though some declared that opposition to the King was tantamount to blasphemy, for was he not God’s anointed?
I do not think we suspected, then, that it would lead to bloody war, but as my first year of studies in the law came to an end, war did indeed break out and all teaching at the Inns of Court was suspended for the immediate future. At the time, I suppose that most thought life would return to normal after a few months. The King and Parliament would reach some compromise. As all studies were at an end for the moment and my father that summer was not very well, I went home to the farm, expecting to return to London at the start of the next law term.
Now, here I was, nearly seven years later, come back to a London where the people were ill dressed, their faces pinched, their eyes furtive. The streets were surely more clogged with rubbish than before, where skeletal stray dogs scavenged. On nearly every street corner beggars in their rags stretched out bony hands, too weak even to cry out for alms. I hardened my heart, for my early time in the city had taught me not to trust the claims of beggars. There had always been a foul smell in the streets, where the kennels meant to carry away rain water were more often choked with the contents of piss pots tipped from the neighbouring houses, but the stench seemed worse than ever. I need not have worried about the smell of goat that I carried.
By the time I had hobbled up Gray’s Inn Lane and reached the gatehouse of the Inn, I was exhausted. Despite the winter cold and the bite of an east wind, I was sweating with the effort of swinging myself along. The pain in my armpits from leaning on my crutches had spread to my shoulders, my back, and my neck. My whole body was screaming for rest. Had the distance been much greater, I think I should simply have slid to the ground and stayed there.
The gatekeeper was a new man who did not know me and eyed me with suspicion, barring my entry. I cannot have been a pretty sight, stained and dirty with travel, my face running with sweat and my ridiculous knapsack flapping about on my chest. It seemed that, after all my efforts, I might not even be able to gain admittance to the Inn. I lifted the strap of my knapsack from my neck and let it slide to the ground. Fortunately I had brought writing materials with me, intended for taking notes during moots and readings. I could send in a letter to the Treasurer, the master of the Inn, asking for a meeting.
Just as I was unbuckling my knapsack, a young man came up behind me and was about to enter the gatehouse when he stopped and looked at me, frowning.
‘Tom? Is it Tom Bennington?’ he said. ‘God’s bones, Tom, what has happened to you? Have you been in the fighting?’
He was looking frankly at my injury. It was a natural assumption.
‘Anthony Thirkettle! The Lord be praised! I thought this fellow was going to kick me into the gutter.’ I glared as the unfriendly gatekeeper.
Anthony turned to the man. ‘This is Master Bennington, Potter, a former student of Gray’s Inn. He will be coming with me.’
Without another word, Anthony led me through the gate and into Chapel Court. Halfway across, he paused.
‘So, have you been at the war?’
‘Nay.’ I shook my head. ‘Stand me a mug of beer and I’ll tell you the whole story.’
‘We’ll go to my chambers.’
He started off again, but I laid my hand on his arm.
‘I am not able for stairs.’
‘My chambers are on the ground floor. Two shallow steps.’
‘That I can probably manage.’
Seeing how awkward I was, with my knapsack now thudding against my chest again, he simply lifted it from around my neck and carried it himself. It was one of the things I remembered about him: how he would quietly set about doing whatever might be needful, while other fellows argued and wasted time.
‘Here,’ he said, unlocking a stout wooden door and holding it open for me.
I managed the two steps without falling flat on my face, though my arms had begun to shake with the long labour of my walk from Aldersgate. Anthony waved me to a cushioned chair beside a cheerful fire and I sank into it gratefully, propping my crutches against the side, where they promptly clattered to the ground.
At first I closed my eyes, for I was overcome with a wave of nausea and dizziness, then I felt Anthony pressing a mug into my hand.
‘Drink that. It will soon set you up. Despite the times, we still have a good strong brew here at Gray’s. When did you last eat?’
I took a long draught, then wiped my mouth on my sleeve, which still definitely carried the stink of goat.
‘I had some thin pottage at an inn last night, on the far edge of the heath land.’
‘I haven’t much food here, but there’s a fresh loaf and some hard cheese. You may help yourself.’
He fetched the food from an inner room and set it out on a table next to my chair. While I ate, he asked no questions.
‘Are you not eating?’ I said. The cheese was somewhat bland, compared with Mercy’s cheeses, but I was too hungry to mind. And the beer was strong and strengthening.
‘Nay, I had a good breakfast not long since in Hall.’
When he saw that I had finished eating, he poured me more beer and some for himself, then sat back in a chair on the other side of the hearth
‘Well? And how do you come to be in this state? And what are you doing in London?’
Anthony was perhaps three or four years older than I and had progressed further in his studies than I had, before I left for home. Like me he came from the Fens, though he was a townsman. His father was a modestly prosperous merchant in Ely, trading mostly in raw wool and woollen cloth with the Low Countries and France. I do not think he owned any ships, but the family had done well, at least until the war.
‘As for my leg,’ I said, ‘I injured it twice last year in battles with the adventurers who are attempting to drain our Fens and steal our commons. Then my leg turned gangrenous. It was necessary to amputate, else I’d have been dead by this. So, yes, I lost it in battle, though not the kind of battle you meant.’
He shook his head. ‘It is a bad business, this draining. They are wreaking havoc.’
‘They are indeed.’ I told him of the terrible flood caused by the blind mismanagement of the waters, and how we had struggled to survive, despite the damage.
‘I am of no use now on the farm. I cannot do even half a day’s work. My father is dead and I have made over the farm to my sister.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Can a woman run a farm?’
I smiled. ‘Someday you must meet my sister. But aye, she was near enough running it already before the flood. I have left them restoring and rebuilding while I came to London.’
I looked about me. This was no student’s room.
‘Have you been called to the bar?’
‘I am an utter barrister, not fully qualified yet, but all is in such confusion in these times, even in the courts, that I sometimes act as assistant to one of the Readers or Benchers. Though we can hardly speak of Readers any more, for there have been no readings this long while. Indeed, sometimes I am even left to do most of the court work myself. No one has been called to the bar since the start of the war. You just completed one year, did you not?’
‘Aye.’ I hesitated. ‘As I am useless now as a farmer, I thought to resume my studies in the law, if they will take me back. I had paid my fees.’
I would not yet mention my other reason for coming to London.
‘I do not see why they should not. You must see the Treasurer, and he will put it to the next meeting of Pen
sion. Though I must warn you, there is little formal teaching now. Last year Pension gave an order that every student must attend a moot once every day, but it is an order more broken than observed. We are in a sorry state.’
‘Here in Gray’s Inn only?’
‘Nay. It is the same at all the Inns. We must get by now, it seems, merely by studying the law books. At any rate, we have a good library, better than it was when you were here, thanks to several bequests from former members.’
‘I cannot see the Treasurer in my present state.’ I waved a hand at my muddy breeches and my stained and crumpled shirt. ‘May I wash and change here?’
‘Of course.’ He paused, eying me thoughtfully. ‘You have just arrived in London this morning?’
‘Aye.’
‘Have you lodgings?’
‘I thought I would wait until I spoke to the Treasurer, then decide what to do.’
‘Would you like to share these chambers with me? My fellow – Jonathon Dawes, do you remember him? – he shared with me, but grew so disgusted with the present state of affairs that he left after Christmas and went home to Yorkshire. He had qualified as an utter barrister too, and it seems that is enough for him to practice there. His share of the rent is paid up to Lady Day, so you may live rent free until then. I mostly eat in Hall, but sometimes I send out to a pie shop, or cook over the fire when I want to save the chinks. What do you say?’
What could I say? I flushed, partly with relief, partly with shame that he should think me a charity case. ‘I can pay my way,’ I said, somewhat stiffly.
He laughed. ‘Of course, but the room is empty and going a-begging. Why not use it? We can see how we fare. If by Lady Day we find we are heartily tired of each other’s company, then you may look about for other lodgings.’
‘Then I say hearty thanks.’ I grinned at him. ‘A ground floor room in chambers will suit me very well. And I am told that here in London I may have a false leg made of wood, which will help me to get about more easily.’
‘Aye,’ he said soberly. ‘You are not the only man in London who has need of such help. There’s many a soldier to be seen about the streets who has lost one or both legs.’
‘Then I need not feel so much a freak,’ I said, trying to make a jest of it.
‘Nay, it is an honourable wound earned in defending your land against those scoundrels. You should be proud.’
I shook my head, but said nothing. It is easy enough to say such things when you are not the one who feels himself but half a man, maimed and disfigured. I let it pass. At home no one had spoken to me so frankly, but Anthony had always been as open and honest as clear glass. My luck had surely taken a turn for the better in meeting him.
He showed me round the rest of the chambers. The room where we had been sitting was the largest, with comfortable chairs and also a table with joint stools to serve when he took his meals here. On the other side of the outer door there was an office or study, with two desks and a shelf of law books. At the back there were two small bedchambers, a privy chamber and a very small room, not much more than a large cupboard, which was a sort of kitchen, with a pallet bed against one wall.
‘The fellow who lived here before us was a full barrister and had a servant who cooked and valeted for him. He slept in here. I don’t aspire to such grandeur,’ Anthony said. ‘But it is useful if we want to cook, or even brew up some spiced ale.’
Everything was immaculately clean and tidy, and I remarked on it.
‘There’s a woman comes in once a week to clean all the chambers on this stair. Fortunately her services are included in the rent. She keeps us all in order. Quite a tyrant, Goodwife Gorley. Even the Benchers dare not say her nay.’
I laughed. ‘I shall mind my manners with her, then.’
‘This is the chamber you can have,’ Anthony said, leading me back to one of the bedchambers. ‘It isn’t much, but I find it is adequate. And one advantage of living on the ground floor is that we have piped water, so you may wash in the kitchen. I’ll warm some water for you on the parlour fire. The kitchen fire is not lit.’
‘I don’t want to trouble you.’
‘No trouble.’
Half an hour later, I had washed thoroughly in hot water, with Castile soap, a luxury Anthony allowed himself in the dirt of London.
‘You would not believe how much dirtier London is than the country,’ he said as he handed me the expensive soap. ‘The sea coal leaves a filthy film over everything, and so many people crowded together seems to multiply the dirt.’
‘At least here we are outside the City proper.’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Henry III did us a good turn, banning the teaching of law within the confines of the City. Here we benefit from being on the edge of the country.’
‘Are the Walks still maintained?’
‘Aye. Somewhat untidy, for several of the gardeners joined the army, but they are as beautiful as ever.’
After I had washed and combed the tangles from my hair, I donned a clean shirt and hose, and my best doublet and breeches, which I had carried with me in my knapsack. Mercy had cut away the foot of some of my hose, so I could roll the left leg up to my stump. I must find out whether the Inn still employed washerwomen, for the clothes I had worn for travelling were not fit to be seen in company.
‘I feel a new man,’ I said, as I hobbled back into the parlour. ‘I cannot tell you how grateful I am, Anthony.’
He brushed my words aside. ‘What do you want to do about seeing the Treasurer?’
‘No time like the present.’
‘He is not here today, he was sent for to go to Westminster. Why do you not write a message to his senior clerk, asking for a meeting tomorrow? He is not unreasonable. I am sure he will see you.’
Taking Anthony’s advice, I wrote a brief note to the clerk, which was carried to the Treasurer’s chambers by one of the Inn’s servants. I had a reply within the hour, naming ten o’clock the next day for the meeting.
In the meantime Anthony had settled to his papers in the office, where I took him the news of the appointed meeting.
‘Excellent. Then today you may rest after your travels.’
‘I would rather make myself useful. Is there anything I can do to help you?’
‘Well, if you mean it, you could help by copying out the precedents from these casebooks. They are marked with slips of paper. I am assisting one of the Benchers in a case of land inheritance. It is complicated through the deaths of several direct heirs in the war and now there are three claimants, all with more or less equal rights.’
‘It cannot be divided three ways?’
‘Nay, it is a case for Solomon’s wisdom. Which is somewhat lacking in these modern times.’
I sat down at the second desk and we worked together contentedly for the rest of the morning. Although copying out precedents was a clerk’s task, I enjoyed it, though I found it far more interesting to root about in the casebooks, searching for ancient precedents like a pig hunting for truffles. Anthony had already made the necessary searches, but I did find one more judgement which might prove useful. At midday we stopped for more bread, cheese and beer, followed by a slice of apple pie purchased from the redoubtable Goodwife Gorley.
‘This is excellent,’ I said.
‘She augments her small income by selling her baking to members of the Inn. I believe her father was a baker.’
Anthony stretched out his long legs to the fire. It had been chilly in the office, where he had not lit a fire, although we had kept the intervening doors open to benefit from the parlour fire. He explained that both coal and firewood had become very expensive since the war.
‘Fewer miners and woodsmen, I suppose,’ he said. ‘And we cannot go out and dig up a load of free peat, as you fenlanders may.’
‘Not in the future,’ I said grimly, ‘if the drainers have their way.’
‘By the by, I appreciate your help,’ he said. ‘It is clerk’s work, I know, but I cannot afford to employ one,
so mostly do it myself. A few of us share a clerk. I have his services one day a week.’
‘In order to keep myself in London, I thought I would seek some clerking work myself,’ I said, ‘a few days a week. Perhaps with one of the merchants in Cheapside.’
‘You might even get one of the Benchers here to take you on. Some of the clerks, like the gardeners, have joined the army. And you will understand the work. You should ask the Treasurer when you see him.’
‘I will so.’
We carried on working at Anthony’s papers for the rest of the day. Just as it was growing dusk and we needed candles, he stretched his arms above his head, until his shoulders creaked.
‘That is surely enough evidence to take to court. You have saved me a whole day. I shall send out for a pie and a bottle of wine to celebrate.’
‘Do you not dine in Hall?’
‘Sometimes. Not tonight.’
He went off to send a servant out for our meal and would not take a contribution from me.
‘Nay, you have more than earned it with all the work you have done today.’
I suspected that he would have dined in Hall – and dined far better – had I not been there, but I said nothing, not wishing to embarrass him. Only if I were readmitted to the Inn would I be able to dine in Hall. In any case, I would not be able to afford the bills unless I could find some paid work. Otherwise I must needs live on bread, cheese and beer, which might grow somewhat tedious after a time.
Anthony insisted that we should lay the table as if we were at home.
‘My mother would chide me if she saw me still living like a student, sitting cross-legged on the floor and tearing my meat with my fingers. The wine glasses are in that hanging cupboard to the right of the hearth, and the napkins are there as well.’