Page 71 of A Column of Fire

Alice said: ‘Last October you pre-sold the fleeces of a thousand sheep to Widow Mercer for ten pence each.’ Widow Mercer was the biggest wool dealer in town. ‘The sheep were sheared this April, and Mrs Mercer sold the fleeces to Philbert Cobley for twelve pence each, two pence more than she paid you. You forfeited two pence per fleece in order to have your money six months earlier. You paid forty per cent annual interest.’

There was a mutter of approval. Most of the leading citizens were traders, and they understood percentages.

Julius said: ‘I am not on trial here, you are.’

Alice ignored that. ‘In February you bought stone from the earl’s quarry for the extension to your palace. The price was three pounds, but the earl’s quarrymaster offered you a reduction of a shilling in the pound for advance payment, which you accepted. The stone was delivered by barge a month later. In effect, you charged the earl sixty per cent interest on the money you paid early.’

The crowd were beginning to enjoy this, and Ned heard laughter and a ripple of applause. Pettit shouted: ‘Silence!’

Alice said: ‘In April you sold a flour mill in Wigleigh—’

‘This is irrelevant,’ Julius said. ‘You cannot excuse yourself by claiming, plausibly or otherwise, that other people have committed similar crimes.’

Tilbury said: ‘The bishop is right about that. I direct the jury to declare Alice Willard guilty of usury.’

Ned harboured a faint hope that the businessmen in the jury might protest, but they did not have the nerve to challenge such a clear direction from the justices, and after a moment they all nodded agreement.

Tilbury said: ‘We will now consider the question of punishment.’

Rollo spoke again. ‘The Act of 1552 is very clear, your worships. The culprit must lose both interest and principal of the loan and, in addition, “fines and ransom at the king’s will or pleasure”, to quote the exact words of the law.’

Ned shouted: ‘No!’ Surely his mother could not forfeit the four hundred pounds as well as the interest?

The Kingsbridge folk felt the same, and there was a mutinous hubbub. Paul Pettit had to call for silence again.

The crowd eventually went quiet, but Tilbury did not immediately speak. He turned to his fellow justice, Seb Chandler, and they held a murmured conversation. Then Tilbury summoned Pettit to join them. The silence grew tense. The justices talked to Pettit, who was a qualified lawyer, as were all Clerks of the Peace. They appeared to be arguing, with Pettit shaking his head in negation. Finally, Tilbury shrugged and turned away, Seb Chandler nodded agreement, and Pettit returned to his seat.

At last Tilbury spoke. ‘The law is the law,’ he said, and Ned knew at once that his mother was ruined. ‘Alice Willard must forfeit both the amount of the loan and the additional rent or interest demanded.’ He had to raise his voice over the noise of protest. ‘No further punishment will be necessary.’

Ned stared at his mother. Alice was stricken. Until now she had been defiant. But she had been up against the full power of the Church, and her resistance had been hopeless. Now she was suddenly diminished: dazed, pale, bewildered. She looked like one who has been knocked off her feet by a charging horse.

The clerk said: ‘Next case.’

Ned and his mother left the court and walked down the main street to their house without speaking. Ned’s life had been turned upside down and he could hardly digest the implications. Six months ago he had been sure of spending his life as a merchant, and almost sure of marrying Margery. Now he had no employment and Margery was engaged to Bart.

They went into the parlour. ‘At least we won’t starve,’ Alice said. ‘We’ve still got the houses in St Mark’s.’

Ned had not expected his mother to be so pessimistic. ‘Won’t you find a way to start again?’

Alice shook her head wearily. ‘I’ll be fifty soon – I haven’t got the energy. Besides, when I look back over the past year, I seem to have lost my judgement. I should have moved some of the traffic away from Calais when the war broke out last June. I should have developed the Seville connection more. And I should never have lent money to Reginald Fitzgerald, no matter how much pressure he put on me. Now there’s no business left for you and your brother to inherit.’

‘Barney won’t mind,’ Ned said. ‘He’d rather be at sea anyway.’

‘I wonder where he is now. We must tell him, if we can locate him.’

‘He’s probably in the Spanish army.’ They had received a letter from Aunt Betsy. Barney and Carlos had got into trouble with the Inquisition and had been forced to leave Seville in a hurry. Betsy was not sure where they had gone, but a neighbour thought he had seen them listening to a recruiting captain down at the dockside.

Alice said glumly: ‘But I don’t know what you’ll do, Ned. I’ve brought you up to be a merchant.’

‘Sir William Cecil said he needed a young man like me to work for him.’

She brightened. ‘So he did. I had forgotten.’

‘He may have forgotten, too.’

Alice shook her head. ‘I doubt he ever forgets anything.’

Ned wondered what it might be like, working for Cecil, being part of Elizabeth Tudor’s household. ‘I wonder if Elizabeth will be queen one day?’