Page 92 of The Armor of Light

Jarge was not so easily deflected from his story. He said: ‘Lydia Mallet was trying to leave when she bumped into Mungo, so he punched her in the face.’

Drinkwater said: ‘Is Lydia Mallet here?’

A young woman stepped out of the crowd. She was pretty, except that her nose and mouth were red and swollen.

Drinkwater said: ‘Did Mungo Landsman do that to you?’

She nodded.

He said: ‘Please say yes, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Yeth,’ she said, and everyone laughed. ‘Thorry, I can’t thpeak right,’ she added and there was more laughter.

Drinkwater said: ‘I think we’ll take that as corroboration.’ He looked at the sheriff. ‘If this account is accurate, it’s surprising that Landsman is not among those charged.’

Sheriff Doye said: ‘Lack of evidence, your worship.’

Drinkwater was clearly dissatisfied, but chose not to take it farther. ‘What happened next, Box?’

‘I knocked Mungo down.’

‘Why?’

Jarge answered indignantly. ‘He punched a woman!’

Hornbeam said: ‘And why did you kick him?’

‘To make him stay down.’

Drinkwater said: ‘You shouldn’t have done that. It’s taking the law into your own hands. You should have reported Landsman to the sheriff.’

‘Phil Doye had gone outside to fetch the militia!’

‘You could have reported it later. That’s enough from you, Box, I think we’ve got all the information we need.’

Hornbeam was annoyed by the way the trial was going. He would not have let Box tell a long story about how the violence was provoked. It might make the jury sympathetic. And Drinkwater was clearly annoyed that the Slaughterhouse lads had been let off.

As usual, the court would hear all the cases before asking the jury for its verdicts. It was not a good practice: by the end of the day they had forgotten much of what they had heard. On the other hand, when they were uncertain they usually erred on the side of guilty verdicts, which Hornbeam thought was a good thing, since in his view just about everyone who got into trouble with the law deserved punishment.

The cases were repetitive. A had punched B because B had shoved C. Every accused person claimed provocation. None of the injuries was very serious: bruises, cracked ribs, a tooth knocked out, a wrist sprained. In each case, Drinkwater was at pains to point out thatprovocation did not justify violence. At the end the jury found them all guilty.

It was time for the justices to decide on punishment. They spoke quietly to one another. Hornbeam said: ‘A clear case for flogging, I would say.’

‘No, no,’ said Drinkwater. ‘I think we should give them all a day in the stocks.’

Hornbeam murmured: ‘With the option of a ten-shilling fine instead, I suggest.’ He wanted to be able to save selected men.

‘No,’ said Drinkwater firmly. ‘They should all be the same. I don’t want half of them in the stocks and the other half walking around town just because someone paid their fine.’

That was exactly what Hornbeam had been planning, but he knew when he was defeated, so he just said: ‘Very well.’

As always, he had a fall-back plan.

*

Hornbeam despised labouring men, especially in a crowd, and the worst crowd of all was the London mob. Yet even he was shocked by the news in the next morning’s paper. As the king was on his way to Parliament, his carriage had been attacked by hooligans chanting: ‘Bread and peace!’ Stones had smashed the carriage window.

They stoned the king! Hornbeam had never heard of such an insult to the monarch. This was high treason. And yet, even while he was fuming with indignation, he realized this news might help him today when he met with the lord lieutenant, the earl of Shiring. He folded the newspaper carefully and tucked it inside his coat. Then he went out.