D. Wilson - The First Horseman

It was Under Warden Thomas Sponer, a lean-faced, thin-lipped man, who responded. ‘Eloquently put, Master Packington. We are well aware of our responsibility to help and we have given support in various ways over the last few months. But we do have to satisfy ourselves that the recipients of our beneficence respond by doing all they can to help themselves. As Prime Warden Mundy has said, our ultimate responsibility is to guard the good name of the whole fellowship and we cannot permit any individual to jeopardise it.’ He turned a stern gaze upon me. ‘Brother Treviot, this council is entrusted with certain disciplinary powers that it must exercise for the good of the Worshipful Company. Our ultimate sanction, as you are aware, is the suspension of a brother freeman from membership, either temporarily or permanently.’

Beside me, Robert coughed lightly and, when I glanced in his direction, he nodded imperceptibly. I took the hint.

‘Sirs, I am very grateful for your wise advice and for the practical assistance you and other brothers have given me over these difficult months. I see now that my preoccupation with my own troubles has blinded me to the problems I have posed to the Worshipful Company. For this I beg Your Worships’ forgiveness.’

Robert added, ‘I can vouch for the fact that Brother Treviot has, indeed, carefully considered his former conduct. He has already reassumed full responsibility for his business. If Your Worships are prepared to allow me to act as his guide and mentor, I believe it will not be necessary to take any drastic action at this stage.’

The councillors consulted in lowered voices. I watched nervously, my whole body taut with anxiety. From their gestures and glances I gained the impression that, while several were responding favourably to Robert’s words, Under Warden Sponer was arguing for an example to be made of me. My advocate chose his moment for another intervention.

‘Masters, it might help if I were to mention a not dissimilar incident that occurred some months ago in my own company. One of our brethren had fallen into financial difficulties. He was too proud to seek help from his seniors. Instead, he tried to recover his position by dishonest means. Eventually we summoned him before the wardens. Instead of answering that summons, he cut his own throat. To this day I feel guilty about that. I know that my colleagues and I should have intervened sooner. But worse was to follow. When we met to sort out the poor fellow’s affairs, we discovered that members of our own fellowship had been seeking to profit from their brother’s difficulties. I forbear to go into details. I simply wanted to assure you that I am only too aware of the responsibility you carry and the many factors you have to take into account.’

Some twenty minutes later Robert and I were walking back down Foster Lane, he in his usual steady stride, me with a decided spring in my step.

‘Thank you so much, Robert,’ I said. ‘That was masterly. Perhaps you should not have abandoned the law.’

He waved a hand dismissively. ‘My hypothetical case may have made them reflect more deeply.’

‘Hypothetical?’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes, I did mention that it was simply an example of what could happen, did I not?’ He stepped ahead to sidle past a wagon that was taking up all the width of the lane because of scaffolding coating St Vedast’s Church. I caught up with him as we turned into West Cheap.

‘Did you see Sponer’s face? He was furious.’

‘You must have a care for friend Sponer. He is very thick with Leyland. And you must follow your wardens’ injunction to the letter. You are on probation for six months and must appear before them again in December. Your behaviour between now and then must be impeccable and I have solemnly sworn to ensure that it is so. It will do no harm for you to be seen accompanying me to church sometimes. Above all, you must look to your own soul. I trust you are still reading the New Testament.’

It was after this that I did start to leaf through Tyndale’s book in the seclusion of my own chamber. I began with the fifteenth chapter of St Luke’s Gospel, to which Robert had particularly directed my attention. There I read about a graceless son who forsook his own home, wasted all his money in ‘riotous living’ and returned to his father, who welcomed him as though nothing had happened. I could not doubt that I had been directed to this particular text as the strongest possible hint that I should repent of my involvement with disreputable companions and return to mercantile respectability. I was now more than ready to comply. The days passed with no word from Ned and, as it was evident that Lizzie had spurned my offer of help, I satisfied myself that I had done all I could and, probably, more than I should.

Come early June I had put St Swithun’s House and all its turbulent events behind me. That was when I received a message from Ned. He had, with great difficulty, persuaded Lizzie to accept my offer of a temporary refuge.

There was much to organise if Lizzie was to be comfortably installed at Hemmings. First she had to be supplied with a suitable wardrobe. I had retained one of Jane’s close attendants and now I had her make a selection of my wife’s clothes. Jane’s press had not been opened since her death and I still could not face going through her things. I left the task to young Susannah, saying that I was making provision for a friend of Jane’s who had fallen on hard times. When a large coffer had been filled with what Susannah assured me were all the necessary garments, I sent word to Ned, who brought a wagon to collect it.

The move began on a midsummer day that promised great heat. Ned and Jed came to Goldsmith’s Row to collect my koch or coach. My father had been one of the first in London to order a vehicle built to the latest design from the Continent and it made journeys to and from Hemmings much more comfortable for my mother and her attendants. It was also the envy of our neighbours — a fact from which my mother derived secret pleasure. Soon after the koch’s departure I set out on horseback and reached my house near Ightham in the Wealden valley early in the evening. Thus, I arrived a full half day before the Southwark party and was able to prepare my mother to receive our guest.

I was in the small summer parlour overlooking Hemmings’s broad lawn when that guest arrived. Mother sat by the window to catch the light on her sewing. Lizzie entered, holding Ned’s arm. I had been faintly curious to know what she would look like in her new attire but was quite unprepared for the transformation that had come over her. Gone were the wrinkled chemise and the brown, drab woollen gown. Gone was the lustrous but unruly cascade of unrestrained hair. Lizzie now appeared in a dark-green embroidered kirtle, with sleeves of a lighter shade and a russet overgown. Her hair was combed and covered with a simple linen coif. She appeared every inch the modest maiden. The only thing that marred her appearance was the dark oval patch applied to her left cheek. When I introduced her she made a light curtsey.

‘Mistress Treviot, this is so kind. I do hope I shall not be a bother to you. Oh, what fine needlework. May I look?’

My mother handed over her sewing frame, completely won over. ‘You are more than welcome, Mistress…? You must tell me your name again, child. Tom mumbles so.’

‘Garney, Elizabeth Garney, but my friends call me Lizzie.’

‘Come and sit here, in the window, Lizzie. I think Tom has told me very little about you but I do tend to forget things.’

‘Dear Tom is such a secretive young man.’ Lizzie threw a cynical smile in my direction.

I left them to become acquainted and withdrew with Ned to the hall.