Page 157 of The Armor of Light

‘I’m holding ten pounds belonging to the union – all donated by sympathetic Kingsbridge folk. Is there anything I can do to keep it out of the hands of the government?’

‘Yes,’ said Keithley. ‘Form a friendly society.’

Friendly societies were popular. A group of people each put in a small weekly subscription, and when one of them was sick or unemployed the club paid out a modest living allowance. There were hundreds of such societies in England, perhaps thousands. The authorities encouraged them, for they supported people who might otherwise apply for parish relief.

Keithley said: ‘Make all the union members also members of the friendly society, then transfer the union’s money to the society. Then the union has no money for the government to grab.’

Midwinter smiled. ‘Very shrewd.’

Keithley added: ‘Also, a friendly society may discreetly perform many of the functions of a trade union. For example, the society might hold discussions with the masters about new machinery, on the grounds that it affects the society’s outgoings.’

Spade liked that idea, but he saw a snag. ‘What if we succeed, and the Combination Bill fails?’

‘Then just tear up the document transferring the money.’

‘Thank you, Mr Keithley,’ said Midwinter.

Spade said: ‘How useful it is to have a lawyer on hand.’

*

Spade was friendly with one of his best customers in London, Edward Barney, a young cloth merchant. Spade had brought with him a trunk full of samples, so as to justify the expense of the trip by making some sales. He visited Edward’s warehouse in Spitalfields, where costly specialist fabrics such as watered silks, velvets, cashmeres and unusual blends were displayed at the front near the door, and bales of everyday serge and linsey-woolsey stood on racks at the back.

Edward invited Spade to stay at the apartment over the warehouse. Spade accepted eagerly: he disliked lodging in taverns, which were never very comfortable or clean.

The Workmen’s Combination Bill made no progress in Parliament for a week. While Spade was waiting he called on all his regular customers in London. Business seemed to be recovering: exports to America were making up for the fall in European trade.

When he ran out of customers to visit he talked to Edward’s father, Sid. Although only forty-five, Sid had retired from the business with arthritis, and sat all day amid cushions piled under his twisted limbs. He liked talking to someone who could take his mind off his discomfort.

Spade told him all about the Combination Act and Kingsbridge’s reaction to it.

‘I knew a lad called Hornbeam,’ Sid said. ‘Joey Hornbeam. He was an orphan. We were all very poor, but I raised myself up. So did Joey.’

Spade was curious to know more about the background of Kingsbridge’s richest businessman. ‘How did he do it?’

‘Same way I did, though in a different firm: started out sweeping the floor, became a messenger, kept his eyes open and his wits about him, learned everything there was to know about the cloth business, and waited for an opportunity. There our paths diverged. I married my boss’s daughter. Dear Eth gave me Edward and four daughters before she died, rest her soul.’

‘And Hornbeam?’

‘He started his own firm.’

‘Where did he get the money?’

‘No one was sure. After a while he sold up and left London. Now I know where he went: Kingsbridge.’

‘Was he some kind of swindler?’

‘Probably. I wouldn’t hold it against him. He came from St Giles, a neighbourhood where there’s no law, no right or wrong.’

Spade nodded. ‘What was he like, back then?’

‘He was hard,’ Sid said. ‘Hard as nails.’

‘He still is,’ said Spade.

*

The House of Lords met in the medieval Queen’s Hall within the Palace of Westminster, and had done so – Keithley informed Spade – since before Guy Fawkes attempted to blow the place up with gunpowder. Visitors could enter the room, but had to remain behind a railing, called the bar. Spade stood with his elbows on the bar while the lords debated the Combination Bill. He had never before seen more than one or two aristocrats in a room: here therewere dozens, plus bishops. He was naturally interested in their clothes, which were made of good cloth and well cut. Their speeches were not so impressive. Their sentences were unnecessarily complicated, and he had to simplify them in his mind before he could grasp the arguments. Perhaps that was how the upper classes liked to talk.