When she paused to draw breath, I said, ‘I know how busy he is. I feel guilty that this little affair of mine is taking up still more of his time.’
‘Oh, no, Thomas, you must not think that. Robert is very happy to help. He was so very fond of your father. He regards you as almost one of his own children.’
At that moment Robert appeared from the house, striding over the newly scythed grass with his usual purposeful gait. As soon as he had greeted us, Mistress Packington took her cue and returned indoors. Robert took her place on the bench.
‘Now,’ he began, in his usual brisk manner, ‘I have made enquiries into Brother Simon Leyland and the business he runs with his younger brother. It seems that they are not the most scrupulous merchants in London. There was a case of false weights a few years ago which they managed to escape with a small fine. Their clients include some of the highest in the land and that has created problems for them.’
‘How so?’
‘They have lent to members of the king’s council and court who have been less than prompt in making repayment. As a result they have been obliged to borrow secretly from foreign merchants. They desperately need new customers.’
‘Which explains why they have been poaching mine.’
‘Exactly. Now, we cannot make accusations at your hearing. The Leylands are not under examination. But we might be able to make subtle references that the Court are sure to recognise.’
‘Why do you say “we”?’ I asked.
‘You’ve never been present at a meeting of the Court of Assistants, I suppose.’
‘No, I thank God. No one is summoned before that august body unless he is in real trouble.’
Robert allowed himself a slight smile. ‘You should not be too much in awe of them; they are only a dozen fallible present and past wardens and they have to overlook every aspect of the Company’s life. They will have several other matters on their agenda today. I suggested to the Prime Warden that your affair might be dealt with more expeditiously if I were to speak on your behalf.’
‘But you are not of our fellowship,’ I protested.
‘The rules permit you to have an advocate present and they do not specify that he must be a member of the Company. So, I will be beside you and I suggest you take your lead from me. Above all else be sure to appear humble and contrite.’
We spent several more minutes discussing the forthcoming ordeal and, after a light dinner that I was too nervous to do much justice to, we set off for Goldsmiths’ Hall. My examination by the Wardens’ Court took place in what was called the Ladies’ Chamber, a first-floor parlour of large size but comfortably furnished. It was here that members’ wives and daughters were entertained and where the Court held meetings.
After a short wait we were admitted. The new Prime Warden, Sir John Mundy, sat behind a long table, flanked by eleven of his colleagues, all wearing their blue scarlet-hooded robes of office. At one end a scribe was stationed. The only sound was the scratching of his pen. Robert and I stood in the middle of the room.
Eventually Mundy looked up with a grave half-smile. ‘Master Packington, it is an honour to welcome you. Brother Treviot is extremely fortunate to have you as his advocate.’ Mundy directed his gaze at me and the smile faded. ‘Brother Treviot, it is not the custom of this Worshipful Company to pass judgement on the private lives of members. We are interested only in preserving the high standards of workmanship and business practice for which we are justly famous. However, when the conduct of a brother attracts unfavourable comment and impairs his relationship with other members as well as customers, we have to take note of it. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’ I stood, looking, I hoped, suitably abashed, my eyes fixed on the herb-strewn floor.
The Prime Warden continued. ‘It has been noted for some months that you have neglected your shop and effectively delegated the conduct of business to someone who is not a freeman. Furthermore, you have been recognised paying frequent visits south of the river to a place of disrepute, as one result of which you absented yourself from the St Dunstan’s Day assembly. All this may suggest to some observers that you have scant regard for the privileges and responsibilities of membership of this Worshipful Company. If this council failed to take action it might appear that we condoned such a casual attitude. Can you produce any explanation that might influence the decision we have to reach?’
Robert now intervened. ‘Masters, not twelve months since, your Worshipful Company and, indeed, the whole merchant community of the City suffered an irreplaceable loss in the death of the older Thomas Treviot. That loss, however, was as nothing compared with that sustained by his family. Before his grieving son could recover from that blow he sustained another in the decease of his young wife. The wise Solomon tells us, “There is a time for sadness and a time for mirth; a time to grieve and a time to dance.” Who can say how long these times, set by God, should last? Grief may be like a cave a man enters, hoping to pass through it and emerge into the sunlight once more. Yet, if the cave be long and beset with twists and turns, he may despair of ever escaping from the dark. Such despair may turn to madness. Masters, should not those of us who are older and have seen more of the world’s trials be lights in the darkness?’
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.’