Ghent, Flanders, AD 1320
‘I welcome you all, each and every one,’ Jared said warmly, looking about the table. ‘Some have travelled far, and I honour you for it.’
Here were Marco of Florence, Bartolomeo Farnese of Padua, Streuvel of Münster – and they had come to Ghent to found a guild that each believed would change their fortunes and their lives.
The room was not large but was well appointed – it was the meeting hall of the House of Barnwell in this great trading capital, well chosen for its proximity both to the rich lands of northern Europe and the rising Hansa ports of the Holy Roman Empire.
And above him was the prime symbol of the guild: a giant blue lightning bolt from the heavens stabbing down to demolish a red castle, the whole surmounted by an angel with a trumpet.
‘I first desire to introduce the lady Barnwell – who is my wife,’ Jared said proudly. On his elevation to the ranks of the merchantry he’d taken the name of his cousin as his in addition to his village name and was now known to all as Master Jared Barnwell of Coventry.
‘My lady.’ There were wary acknowledgements as they recognised the one who was making it all possible.
She addressed them respectfully. ‘Good gentlemen, I bid you welcome also but know that it will be my husband who will lead your meeting. My position here is honorary and that of advisor only. I wish that you will conduct your affairs in whatsoever manner you see fit.’
There was the tiniest pause and then she said firmly, ‘Knowing that should the structure and soundness of your guild be found wanting, the House of Barnwell would find it difficult to increase the scale of its funding.’
He and Rosamunde had worked hard together, drawing up a plan of action and he now presented it as a working outline under five main headings.
The purpose of the guild:
In large, to gather strength from working together instead of separately. To regulate the quality of workmanship and services. To offer mutual support where needed. To share ideas and resources to the benefit of all.
Its conduct:
No single authority, but as independent enterprises each in its area, attracting interest and commerce to its own self, calling on others if large orders lay in peril of being unfulfilled. To provide gunnes, powder and, if requested, trained men.
The structure:
A Grand Hall to co-ordinate, and others located in convenient lands and trading cities in constant communication.
Organisation:
Each hall to govern its own but all on the same basis.
At the top, the order of Master, one holding to himself all the mysteries of the guild, the secret of gunne-powder, the knowledge of gunne-making, the constantly renewed wisdom regularly exchanged with other Masters.
Under them, the order of Yeoman Gunner, he who knew as an adept the craft and skills of the gunne and who could take charge of a hired troop of gunnes. And below him the Gunner whose prowess it was in the firing and serving.
Only a Master could bestow the degree of Yeoman Gunner to deserving initiates and only they to bring forward Gunners.
Probity and fidelity to the guild:
All guild members to be sworn in loyalty to it and their brethren. To swear never to divulge its secrets and mysteries. To unfailingly come to the aid of brothers in distress. To be bound by the decisions of the Grand Hall in matters of dispute or conduct.
‘And the whole to be named and styled – “The Worshipful Company of Saint Barbara”,’ Jared concluded.
‘Why so?’ Farnese wanted to know. ‘Why not “The Guild of Master Gunners”?’
Rosamunde smiled sweetly. ‘You know that you will have many adversaries, those who would see you as threatening and evil. It were better to trade under such a name, keeping your business discreet always and making your approach quiet and confiding.’
‘Saint Barbara?’
‘A lady who was cruelly martyred and took revenge on her wrongdoers with a heaven-sent thunderbolt.’
There were additional matters to consider: the searching out and inducting of new members, the establishing of a feast day, the design of a secret emblem and other such.
However, as evening was drawing in, general agreement had been reached in the meeting and Jared Barnwell of Coventry was elected as first Grand Master and the chain of office was laid upon him.
Led by his lady he entered a darkened chamber, a lone candle throwing into relief a richly worked reliquary on a small table.
‘Kneel, sire.’
He did so, and laid both hands on the casket.
‘You will make oath on a saint’s bones. Repeat after me …’
It was the swearing, and at its end the dread words, ‘And if I transgress my sworn oath in any kind may Saint Barbara visit on me the same fate by her hands …’
One by one the others were led in to take the oath. At the last Jared saw a shadow at the door.
‘Father. I would be sworn …’