Edward Marston - The Nine Giants

‘Yes, Gilbert. That is what the play will be called.’

‘What?’

‘The Nine Giants !’

Even after the best part of a year in office, Sir Lucas Pugsley was still thrilled at the privileges showered upon him as Lord Mayor of London. The city had always jealously guarded its independence even though this often led to friction with the court and the Parliament at Westminster. Within the city walls, the Lord Mayor ranked above everyone except the Sovereign herself, including princes of the Blood Royal. No fishmonger could ask for more than that. Among his many titles, Pugsley was head of the City Corporation, its chief magistrate, and the chairman of its two governing bodies, the Court of Alderman and the Court of Common Council. Perquisites flourished on all sides but there was one that brought him special delight. He was entitled to any sturgeon caught below London Bridge.

Two features of the office conspired to deter many a possible contender. A year as Lord Mayor was extremely costly since it took you away from your business affairs and involved a great deal of incidental expense. To avoid all this, there had been cases in the past of aldermen bribing their way out of election, paying hundreds of pounds to avoid an honour that would take even heavier toll on their purse. Those rich enough to afford the luxury could yet be halted by another drawback. Being a Lord Mayor committed you to an enormous amount of work. Civic duties were endless and banquets were too frequent and too lavish for many stomachs.

Sir Lucas Pugsley made light of both handicaps. He was wealthy enough to take the job and hungry enough to do it without loss of appetite. Though it took him away from his own business, it was a profitable investment since it gave him an insight into every area of activity in the city. He had considerable patronage at his disposal and could bestow lucrative offices on friends and relations. The head of the city also got the profits from the sale of appointments which were his to make, and received income from rent farms and market leases. Pugsley was an archetypal Lord Mayor. What made him able to savour his public role was the immense assistance he got in private.

The Chamberlain was a rock at all times.

‘I have brought the judicial accounts, Lord Mayor.’

‘Thank you, Aubrey.’

‘Here also is some correspondence from Amsterdam.’

‘I have been awaiting that.’

‘You have to deliver a speech this evening.’

‘Lord save us! I had quite forgot.’

‘That is why I took the liberty of drafting it out for you, Lord Mayor. Three foreign ambassadors dine at your house this night. A speech of welcome is in order. You are too busy to give much time to it yourself.’ He handed the documents over. ‘I hope that my humble scribblings find favour.’

‘Indeed, they do, man. You are my saviour, Aubrey!’

‘I try to be of service.’

As Chamberlain to the city of London, he had wide-ranging duties with regard to finance but his omnicompetence raised him above his calling. Like many before him, Pugsley used the man’s advice and expertise at every turn and confided in him things that he kept from almost everyone. That was another reassuring trait of Aubrey Kenyon. He was the very soul of discretion.

They were in the palatial room that Pugsley used as his office. He was seated at the long oak table with documents piled high in front of him. Without the aid of his Chamberlain, he could never hope to find his way through them. Power made him capricious.

‘Do I have appointments this afternoon?’

‘Five in total, Lord Mayor.’

‘I am in no mood to receive anyone. Cancel them.’

Kenyon bowed. ‘I have already done so.’

‘You know my mind better than I,’ said Pugsley with a chuckle. ‘You have learnt to read me like a book, sir.’

‘Then I hope I have read aright.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I dismissed only four of your five visitors.’

‘And the fifth?’

‘He waits outside. I did not think you would wish him to be turned away like the others.’

‘Who is the fellow?’

‘Alderman Rowland Ashway.’

‘Once more, you share my thinking, sir. Rowland Ashway must never be sent away from this door. It is largely because of him that I sit this side of it.’ He got up from his chair. ‘Admit him at once.’

‘I will, Lord Mayor.’

Kenyon bowed, left the room quietly then returned almost at once with the waddling Ashway. With another formal bow, the Chamberlain left them alone to trade warm greetings and even warmer gossip. The old friends were soon chatting away happily about the pleasures of high office. Sir Lucas Pugsley let self-importance get the better of him.

‘Nothing can compare with this feeling, Rowland.’

‘I trust it well.’

‘It is a gift from the gods.’

‘And from your admirers on the aldermanic roll.’

‘Think, man! A fishmonger who has the Queen’s ear.’

‘We are two of a kind,’ said Ashway complacently.

‘In what regard?’

‘You have the Queen’s ear. I have the Queen’s Head.’

Nicholas Bracewell bided his time until the landlord came out into the courtyard to speak to one of his ostlers. As Alexander Marwood broke away, the book holder intercepted him. It was early evening at the Queen’s Head and the disgruntled audience had long since departed. Westfield’s Men had sullied their glowing reputation.

‘Good even, good sir,’ said Marwood. ‘You gave a paltry account of yourselves here today.’

‘Some blame must fall on you, I fear.’

‘I am no actor, Master Bracewell.’

‘Indeed you are not,’ said Nicholas. ‘Had you been so, you would know the lurching misery of those without a regular wage or a regular home. The Queen’s Head has been a beacon in our darkness, sir. Take but that away and you plunge us into blackest night.’

‘I must do the best for myself and my family.’

‘Granted, sir. But we are part of that family now and feel cut off. When you threaten to exile us, you lower our spirits and our performance. The result was plain for all to see this afternoon.’

‘Do not put this guilt upon me.’

‘I appeal only to your finer feelings.’

Marwood’s twitch had been quiescent until now, lying dormant while it considered which part of his grotesque face to visit next. It reappeared below his left eye and made him wink with alarming rapidity. Nicholas pursued him for more information.

‘Has anything been settled with Alderman Ashway?’

‘In broad outline.’

‘Our contract still has some weeks to run.’

‘It will not be renewed, Master Bracewell.’

‘Despite the mutual advantage it has brought?’

‘All things must come to an end, sir.’

‘Would you surrender ownership so easily?’

His question made the landlord smart and shifted the nervous twitch to his pursed lips which now opened and shut with fish-like regularity. Evidently, he had some misgivings about the new dispensation. Nicholas tried to apply some gentle pressure.

‘The proud name of Marwood has favoured this inn for over a century. That is a fine achievement.’

‘I know my family history, Master Bracewell.’

‘Then have some thought for your forbears. Would any of them have yielded up their inheritance like this?’

‘No, sir,’ agreed Marwood. ‘Nor would they have given shelter to a troupe of bothersome actors. My father would not have let Westfield’s Men across the threshold.’

‘Would he turn away the custom of our noble patron?’

‘He liked not plays and players.’

‘You have been a kinder host.’

‘It is time to show kindness to myself.’