The Kingsbridge courthouse was a former dwelling house on the high street, next to the Guild Hall. The court sat in what had been the dining hall of the house. Other rooms were offices for the justices and clerks. The basement served as a jail.
Ned arrived at the court with his mother. A crowd of townspeople stood around the room, talking. Sir Reginald was already there, with Rollo. Ned was glad Margery was not present: he did not want her to see her father’s humiliation.
Ned nodded stiffly to Rollo. He could no longer act friendly with the Fitzgerald family: the lawsuit had put an end to that pretence. He still greeted Margery when he saw her in the street. She reacted with embarrassment. But Ned loved her, and he believed she felt the same, despite everything.
Dan Cobley and Donal Gloster were also in court. The ill-fated ship theSt Margaretmight be mentioned, and the Cobleys would want to hear anything that was said about them.
Dan and the other Protestants arrested in Widow Pollard’s barn had been released on bail, all but Philbert, who was undoubtedly the leader. Philbert was in the basement jail, having been interrogated by Bishop Julius. They would all be tried tomorrow, not at the Quarter Sessions but at the independent church court.
Donal Gloster had escaped arrest. He had not been with his employer at Widow Pollard’s barn: the story going around town was that he had been at home drunk, luckily for him. Ned might have suspected that Donal was the one who had betrayed the location of the Protestant service, except that his story had been confirmed by several people who had seen him staggering out of the Slaughterhouse that afternoon.
The clerk, Paul Pettit, called for silence, and the two justices came in and took their seats at one end of the room. The senior justice was Rodney Tilbury, a retired cloth merchant. He wore a rich blue doublet and several large rings. He had been appointed by Queen Mary Tudor, being a staunch Catholic, but Ned did not think that would make any difference today, for the case had nothing to do with religion. The second justice, Seb Chandler, was friendly with Sir Reginald, but again Ned did not see how he could go against the plain facts of the case.
The jury were sworn in: twelve men, all Kingsbridge citizens.
Rollo stepped forward immediately and said: ‘I will speak for my father this morning, with your worships’ permission.’
Ned was not surprised. Sir Reginald was irascible, and quite likely to spoil his own case by bad temper. Rollo was just as clever as Reginald, but better controlled.
Justice Tilbury nodded. ‘As I recall, you studied law at Gray’s Inn in London, Mr Fitzgerald.’
‘Yes, your worship.’
‘Very well.’
As the proceedings were beginning, in walked Bishop Julius, dressed in his priestly robes. His presence was no mystery. He wanted the priory buildings for himself, and Reginald had promised to sell them to him cheaply. He must be hoping that Reginald would find a way to wriggle out of his contract.
Alice stepped forward. She presented the case herself, and handed the signed and sealed contract to the clerk. ‘Sir Reginald cannot deny the three key facts,’ Alice said. She spoke in the mild, reasonable tone of one who merely wishes to point out the truth. ‘One, that he signed the contract; two, that he took the money; and three, that he has not paid it back within the promised time. I ask the court to rule that he has quite clearly forfeited the security. That, after all, is what a security is for.’
Alice was confident of victory, and Ned did not see how any court could possibly rule for Reginald, unless the judges were bribed – and where would Reginald get the money for a bribe?
Tilbury thanked Alice politely and turned to Rollo. ‘What have you got to say to that, Mr Fitzgerald? It seems pretty clear-cut.’
But Reginald did not give his son time to reply. ‘I was cheated!’ he burst out, his freckled face turning pink. ‘Philbert Cobley knew perfectly well that theSt Margarethad gone into Calais and was likely to be lost.’
Ned thought that was probably true. Philbert was as slippery as a live fish. All the same, Reginald’s demand was outrageous. Why should the Willard family pay for Philbert’s dishonesty?
Philbert’s son, Dan Cobley, shouted out: ‘That’s a lie! How could we possibly have known what the French king would do?’
‘You must have known something!’ Reginald shot back.
Dan replied with a quotation from the Bible. ‘The book of Proverbs tells us: “A prudent man concealeth knowledge”.’
Bishop Julius pointed a bony finger at Dan and said furiously: ‘This is what happens when ignorant fools are allowed to read the Bible in English – they cite God’s word to justify their crimes!’
The clerk stood up and shouted for quiet, and they all calmed down.
Tilbury said: ‘Thank you, Sir Reginald. Even if it were true that Philbert Cobley, or any other third party, cheated you out of money, that would not release you from your contract with Alice Willard. If that is the basis of your argument, you are clearly in the wrong, and the court will rule against you.’
Exactly, Ned thought with satisfaction.
Rollo spoke immediately. ‘No, your worships, that is not our argument, and I beg your pardon for my father’s intervention, but you will understand that he feels very angry.’
‘So whatisyour argument? I’m eager to hear, and I’m sure the jury are too.’
So was Ned. Did Rollo have something up his sleeve? He was a nasty bully, but he was no fool.
‘Simply that Alice Willard is guilty of usury,’ said Rollo. ‘She loaned Sir Reginald four hundred pounds, but she demanded to be repaid four hundred and twenty-four pounds. She is charging interest, which is a crime.’
