by Ann Swinfen
When I told Anthony what Whittaker had said, he gave a low whistle.
‘Whittaker as well! At least he was honest with you, and encouraged you to continue the search.’
‘I suppose these adventurers pay their lawyers fat fees,’ I said miserably. ‘No wonder men like Blakiston and even Whittaker are willing to act for them. It is nothing to them but lawyer’s business, but to my people it could mean survival or death.’
‘We shall merely need to continue the search on our own,’ Anthony said calmly. ‘Did you hint to Whittaker that you thought Blakiston might have the charter in his possession and might be concealing it?’
‘I am not such a fool. As soon as he began talking about Blakiston being a distinguished colleague, I reined in.’
‘Aye, that was best. Did you tell me you are to visit the surgeon this afternoon?’
‘I am.’ I grinned at him. ‘Do you want to come with me?’ I knew Anthony was keen to see Bolton’s other devices, especially the automata.
‘If you do not mind?’
‘Of course I do not mind. I can see whether he has managed to complete his perfected foot and you can play with his mechanical toys.’
After our midday meal, we hired the same carter who had taken me to Bucklersbury before. He was obliged to let us down a few houses away from the Golden Ram, for the street was blocked by two ox carts which had become entangled.
‘Mostly apothecaries in this street, I see,’ said Anthony, as we inched past the carts and their arguing drivers.
‘Aye, surgeons as well. All of them in a medical way of business, though I think there are no physicians.’
‘Too grand to mix with these lowly practitioners, I daresay.’
When we reached Bolton’s shop, I stared at it in dismay. The windows were shuttered and a large padlock was affixed to the door. With little hope, I banged loudly on it. I had sent a message to Bolton to say that I would call on Monday afternoon. I could not imagine that he would not have warned me if he did not expect to be here.
‘No use your knocking.’ A wizened little man had come out of the apothecary’s shop next door. ‘He’s not there and he won’t be back. Not for a long while, at any rate.’ He wiped his hands on a dirty apron and took a tobacco pipe out of his pocket.
I stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Fetched away to the Army, wasn’t he?’ The man made a great business of lighting his pipe. He drew in a deep breath through the stem, so that the tobacco glowed, then expelled a vast cloud of smoke in our faces with a sigh of pleasure. Anthony and I both coughed.
‘You see?’ he said smugly. ‘Wonderful for clearing the lungs. I have a new shipment of the finest New World tobacco, none of this rank weed fellows are trying to grow in England. I can make you a very good price.’
I shook my head, fanning the unpleasant smoke away from my face. ‘We are not interested in your tobacco. What do you mean, that Master Bolton has been fetched away to the Army?’
‘Just what I say. Two captains came yesterday and fetched him away. He’s worked for the Army before and he’s known for clean amputations. If the Army grandees say you are wanted, you go. No questions asked. He won’t be back until the latest fighting is over. Seen it before.’
Then, judging we were a poor prospect for a sale, he returned to his shop and shut the door in our faces.
‘Gone!’ I said, looking at Anthony in dismay. ‘What shall I do?’
‘Continue to use the leg, I suppose. He wanted it tested, did he not?’
‘Aye, but it wasn’t finished. He was going to fit a new foot.’
‘Well, you are managing well with it as it is. All you can do is carry on until the Army releases him. Still, I am sorry not to have seen his automata.’
We turned away from Bolton’s shop, squeezing past the ox carts, which were still entangled, and heading up toward the Stocks Market.
‘We can probably hire a cart there to take us back to Gray’s,’ Anthony said. ‘There are certain to be some driving west.’
Ahead of us there seemed to be some kind of a scuffle going on, and a voice shouted, ‘Let me go! I am a government servant!’
‘That sounds like John Farindon,’ I said.
‘It does.’ Anthony broke into a run and I hobbled after him, cursing my maimed leg.
A couple of officers of the Army, with half a dozen common soldiers, were rounding up young men and tying their hands together. Most were City apprentices in their blue tunics, but amongst them was John Farindon, protesting loudly. Anthony strode up to the nearest officer, looking impressive in his lawyer’s gown and cap.
‘What is the problem here, captain?’ he asked. His voice was reasonable but stern.
‘Recruiting for the Army, sir,’ the captain said politely. ‘Have to make up for the losses in the recent campaigns.’
Several of the apprentices looked sick. They were well aware that they might form the next batch of losses.
‘Are you not required to get their masters’ permission, before you recruit them?’
‘Not any longer. The Army needs men and we mean to get them.’
I had reached them now and took my stand next to John Farindon.
‘You must settle the matter of the apprentices how you will,’ I said, ‘but this man is telling you the truth. He is known to us. His name is John Farindon. He is a post office runner, employed by Parliament. You may not recruit him.’
‘So you say.’ The other captain sneered at me. He was a great brute of a man, with whom it might be unwise to pick a quarrel.
‘Very well, pursue the matter if you will,’ Anthony said, ‘but I am his legal representative, Anthony Thirkettle of Gray’s Inn, and this is my junior, Thomas Bennington. We will take charge of Farindon now. If you wish to take the matter further, you will know where to find us.’
The big officer opened his mouth, but before he could speak the other captain, who appeared to be more senior, shrugged and said, ‘If you can vouch for him, we’ll not take him, Master Thirkettle. We should have enough without him.’ He turned to the frightened apprentices. ‘Come along, lads. You’re off to glory now. You’ll soon be wielding a musket instead of a broom, and we all know how the wenches like a man in uniform.’
A few of the apprentices laughed nervously as they were led away.
‘Poor lads,’ Anthony said. ‘I wonder how many of them will even have learned how to load a musket before they are sacrificed to this senseless war.’
‘How are you, John?’ I said. The runner was mopping his face with his sleeve. His hands were shaking.
‘That were a b’yer lady close thing!’ he said. ‘If you gentlemen had not come along, they would have taken me. I’ve just been visiting my married sister in Old Jewry, and I walked right into them, not keeping my eyes open, as I should have done. The streets a’nt safe any more.’
‘Let’s take a glass of beer before we find a cart to carry us back to Gray’s,’ I said to Anthony. ‘That tavern looks clean.’ I pointed across the road. ‘Come along, John. You must need it more than we do.’
We ordered a beef pie to have with our beer, for the encounter with the recruiting captains had left us all hungry. The landlord pointed out his small garden behind the tavern, where we sat gladly, for it was one of the few days of the summer which did not feel like winter. The tavern, which had five storeys, cut off the noise of the street, while the wooden fence around the garden made it a pleasant sheltered spot, shaded by a couple of apple trees. John began to relax, chattering about his sister and his small niece, who was nearly three years old and as clever as an African monkey.
‘If ever I can do anything for you gentlemen,’ he said, wiping the traces of the pie from his mouth, ‘you’ve not but to ask.’
‘You’ve already saved my life,’ I said. ‘I think we are quits.’
‘I never understood why you was down that alley,’ he said.
So I explained briefly our search for the charter, and Edmund Dilling
worth’s promise to meet me there and hand it over, if he had got it from Bencher Blakiston.
‘But it was just a trap? This Dillingworth hadn’t got the charter, nor yet this Blakiston?’
‘It was a trap, right enough,’ I said grimly, ‘and I was a fool to fall straight into it.’
‘We aren’t sure about Dillingworth,’ Anthony said. ‘The Dillingworths are Tom’s neighbours at home in the Fens. There’s been trouble before. That old trouble might lie behind the trap. Or it might be that Dillingworth wanted to frighten Tom off trying to find the charter.’
‘He didn’t succeed,’ I said.
‘But you’ve searched everywhere for it?’ John’s eyes gleamed. Clearly he was intrigued by our story.
‘Not quite everywhere,’ I said. ‘The Rolls House, which is where the state copy of the charter should have been deposited. The library of Lincoln’s Inn, where we thought Blakiston might have concealed it, if he stole it from the Rolls House. The only other place we can think of it Blakiston’s chambers.’
‘He could have destroyed it.’
‘We don’t think so,’ Anthony said. ‘It would be a serious crime. If he were to be found out, it would mean the end of his career as a lawyer. Whatever the adventurers are paying him, it would not be worth sacrificing his future for.’
‘So all you need to do is search his chambers.’
Anthony and I both laughed.
‘Aye, that’s all,’ I said. ‘Get into Lincoln’s Inn – preferably when Blakiston is not there. Break into his chambers, which are sure to be locked if he is concealing anything of value. Search his chambers. If we find the charter, steal it. Then escape from Lincoln’s Inn without being caught. Quite simple, really!’
John grinned at me, but said nothing while the landlord brought us a fresh jug of beer and went back inside.
‘I told you that the brother of that scoundrel at the Black Eagle is married to my cousin. He’s not such a bad fellow, but he goes in for some petty crime. When I was little lad, he showed me how to pick a lock with a bit of wire. I think I remember how to do it. Take me with you. I can probably open any locks.’
It was a crazy offer, but perhaps it might just work.
‘Anthony?’ I said. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think John should practise, to see if he really can pick a lock. Blakiston may not keep his chambers locked, but if he has the charter, you may be sure he keeps it in a locked strongbox.’ Anthony poured himself more beer. ‘As for getting into Lincoln’s Inn, I suppose we could pay another visit to the library, though I am not sure how we would explain John.’
‘The most difficult part would be finding a time when Blakiston is not there,’ I said. ‘With term ended, he will not be in court. And it would be best if we could do this at night. We would be less likely to be noticed entering Blakiston’s chambers.’
We talked it round and about until the beer was finished. John promised to practise his criminal skill, while we said that we would try to discover a time, for choice an evening, when Blakiston would be away from Lincoln’s Inn.
‘Then send word to me and I will come at once,’ John said. ‘I do not work in the evenings.’
He told us where he was lodging now, not far from Gray’s, along a lane off Holborn.
‘It took me too long, walking back and forth to Southwark,’ he said. ‘Now I must be getting back to work. I was delivering to the office in Three Needle Street and took the opportunity to see my sister, but I’ve been too long absent. The brush with the recruiting officers will be my excuse. And I shall say I was rescued by two friends who are distinguished lawyers. That will impress my master. He is ever trying to curry favour with the gentry.’
We laughed to hear ourselves so described. John drained the last of his beer, caught up his postal satchel and ran lightly off.
‘Do you think he can indeed pick locks?’ I said.
‘What have we to lose? We will test him with a few before we set off on this madcap adventure.’
‘It is my last hope.’
‘Aye, it is. Come, let’s look for a carter. We both have legal work to do. You to struggle through Whittaker’s reading list and I to find some precedents for my principal on standard weights and measures. What it is to be a distinguished lawyer!’
John came to see us the following Saturday, bringing an assortment of wires, some ending in hooks of different sizes, some in loops. He laid out on the table several locks of different designs.
‘I have been practising, as I promised,’ he said, ‘and I have found that some locks are very much easier than others, although it is difficult to tell from the outside. The larger locks are not always the more difficult ones.’
He demonstrated his skills on each of the locks in turn and we could see which were easy and which hard. The smallest lock, surprisingly, was the most difficult.
‘It is Italian,’ he said. ‘I believe they are very clever at making locks.’
Anthony and I tried to open the locks with John’s bits of wire. We both managed a large, crude looking one, which John said was the easiest, but we could not move any of the others.
‘Now let us try you on some you haven’t practised,’ Anthony said. ‘We have but three: the front door of these chambers for one. In my office I have a locked coffer and a strong box.’
John managed the front door lock with ease. We looked at each other.
‘So the chambers are not that secure,’ I said.
‘Let us hope Blakiston’s aren’t either. Now for the office.’
It took John some time to unlock the coffer, but he succeeded and turned to the strong box. This proved a much greater challenge. He tried one tool after another and began to look anxious. I glanced at Anthony. If Blakiston had the charter, it was likely to be held in a similar strong box.
At last there was a familiar click from the lock and John lifted the lid. He sat back on his heels.
‘That was the hardest I’ve ever had to do.’
‘But you did it at last.’ Anthony clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Well done. I think that deserves a glass of wine.’
When we were sitting with the wine in front of us, John grinned and raised his glass. ‘Well, at least if ever I lose my position, I can find employment as a petty thief.’
‘Here’s to lock pickers and petty thieves!’ I said, raising my own glass.
‘You are a pair of scoundrels,’ Anthony said. ‘I am a respectable barrister. What if we are caught?’
I sobered at once. ‘You are right,’ I said. ‘You must not risk it. You have too much at stake. If we are caught, well, John can outrun any captor. I can always go home to my sister’s farm.’
Even as I spoke, I hoped fervently that Anthony would not give up on the idea. As I had said before, it was my last hope and I was not sure I could carry it out with only John to help.
‘Of course I shall risk it! What is life if we do not take a few risks? It will make a pleasant change from weights and measures.’
Anthony had found an old lawyer’s gown left behind by Jonathon Dawes, who had shared his chambers before I arrived. It was a little short for John, but it would serve for our visit to the library. The librarian had not seemed someone who would pay us much attention. All parts of the plan were now in place. Except the most crucial part. How could we know when Blakiston would be absent from his chambers? We even toyed with the idea of breaking in one evening when he was dining in Hall, but it seemed too dangerous. We had no idea how long our search would take and he might return from dinner to find us there.
John went home to his lodgings to await our summons, if ever it came. I pored over the heavy tomes Whittaker had set me and worked at the library catalogues. I found I missed the odd fellow, Hansen, when I was there alone. Anthony yawned his way through his notes on historic weights and measures.
And then we had an unexpected stroke of luck.
A fellow townsman of Anthony’s from Ely was a Bencher at Inner Temple, one of the Inns
of Court down nearer the river. He invited Anthony to dine there at High Table one night. Anthony went off cheerfully, reckoning that dinner at High Table at an Inn with a reputation for good cuisine was worth an evening in the company of his erstwhile neighbour, whom he described as something of a pompous bore.
I contented myself with a couple of apples and our usual bland cheese, nibbling at them alternately as I struggled with infangtheof and outfangtheof. At least, I thought, the Anglo-Saxons had vivid names for their categories of crime and the privileges of landowners to exact punishment. The text had lulled me to sleep when Anthony came bounding in with all the verve of Gilbert Bolton.
‘Wake up, you sluggard!’ he said. ‘I have news!’
‘What?’ I blinked at him in the semi dark, for my candle was down to the very end.
He grabbed another candle and lit it from the stub.
‘Blakiston is dining at Inner Temple tomorrow night. It came out quite by chance. Their Treasurer made some polite remark about a guest from Gray’s tonight and a guest from Lincoln’s tomorrow. I managed to insinuate an innocence question and learned that it is to be Blakiston. The gods have favoured us!’
I grinned at him. ‘Careful the Puritans do not hear you. That’s a very pagan sentiment.’
‘Never mind the Puritans. We must send a message to John first thing in the morning. Do you know when he starts work?’
I shook my head. ‘Early, I expect. Possibly before dawn.’
‘Well, we must manage it somehow, even if I have to go myself.’
And he did. He had to rouse the gatekeeper, grumbling, to let him out of Gray’s long before the gate would normally be unlocked. I was just getting up when he returned.
‘Caught John just in time,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You were right, he does start before dawn. He will come here when he finishes this afternoon and we will make our scholarly visit to Lincoln’s library. And then we shall see.’
Neither of us did much work that day. As usual when I was distracted, I found that I read the same page of Anglo-Saxon law over and over, and in the end I could not have told you a word of what had been on that page. Anthony sat at his desk with his papers spread out, but I noticed that most of the time he was staring out of the window, chewing the end of his quill until he ruined it. It was a relief when John arrived and we could stop pretending.