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Cunning in music and the mathematics
(Taming of the Shrew Ii.i.242)
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IT HAD BECOME CLEAR that no business would be conducted on this particular day. The festival was consuming everybody’s attention, and the boy’s presence in the room had distracted Edward to the point that he knew he would not be able to give full due to any negotiations. Resigned to spending another day still in Derby, he settled down at the desk by the window to work on some of his accounts. These calculations had to be worked through at some time, and this moment with its enforced respite from activity seemed as good a time as Edward would have.
He began with some basic sums, tallying up what had been sold, what had been ordered, and what still he had to offer, to keep his ledgers current and accurate. His books of samples lay open on the desk, with prices and dimensions of the full bolts of fabric listed beside each swatch of the fine material. Besides the profits accrued through direct sales, there were commissioned rates to be calculated for some select purveyors, as well as discounts for some, premium rates for special deliveries for others, and of course, import tariffs to be calculated for the supplies he expected to procure once he arrived at the docks at Liverpool. He worked for about an hour, gradually moving from the simpler figures to more complicated calculations. Competent at arithmetic but not a great lover of the art, Edward swore under his breath as he mumbled the figures he needed to manipulate to complete his account books. “Damn and blast!” he cursed as he scratched out a calculation made in error, and set about redoing the problem, muttering his figures once again.
“One hundred and forty eight pounds, six shillings, tuppence.” a voice said from behind him.
“Eh?” Edward had forgotten the boy’s presence, and was jolted from the mire of his account books by the soft, high voice.
“That math you was doin’, sir. When you pay the fourteen percent tax and then allow for the percent profit you was sayin’, with the amounts you had, that would be one hundred and forty eight pounds, six shillings and two pennies.”
Edward turned in his chair to stare directly at the creature still buried in blankets by the fire. Matt had neither paper nor pencil, but had arrived at the same figure Edward had just managed after several lines of jottings and crossing out and curses. “How on earth did you do that?”
“Sir?”
“Those calculations. How did you do that?”
“Numbers make sense in my head, Sir.”
“You can just hear these figures and do the calculations? Percentages, multiplications, all of that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Indeed!” Edward paused, thinking for a moment.
“Seven times eighteen.” Edward spat out.
“One hundred twenty six, Sir.”
“Thirty four times seventy eight.”
Matt thought for five or ten seconds, then replied, “Two thousand, six hundred and fifty two.”
“Seven thousand and eighty three divided by twelve.”
Edward counted silently as the boy closed his eyes to ponder the numbers. Nine seconds passed. “Five hundred and ninety, with three remaining.”
And so the back and forth continued for some minutes, with Edward madly scribbling out sums to check the results that Matt stated so confidently. All were correct.
“Where did you learn? Even the brightest mind needs some direction to shine clearly.”
Matt paused for a moment, as if trying to decide how much to tell, then said, “I sat in lessons with the master’s son and learned there.”
“I see.” Edward had so many more questions, but knew they would not be answered this day.
He picked up his ledger and brought it over to the youngster in the chair, “I assume then that you know your numbers to read, and your letters.” Matt nodded. “Can you work these out?” He placed the book in Matt’s lap, and handed him a pencil, watching. Within short minutes, the boy had completed a set of calculations that would have taken Edward hours to complete. He would have to check the work, he knew, but an idea was quickly forming in Edward’s mind.
“Tell me, Matt, and be sure I will not divulge your secrets, where are you from? Have you a home?”
“No, Mr. Gardiner, I canna say. But you was right: I have no home now. I was hoping to get to London to find work, but I cannot go back. I am sore afraid of... of the master.”
“Not the master who let you sit in on his son’s lessons, surely! That sounds like a fine man.”
“No, sir. Not that master. A new one.”
“Who is worried for you, lad? You must have a mother or father or siblings who care that you have vanished from their midst.”
“My father is dead, and my mother is sent away. All I loved was sent away. There is none left there that cares for me.”
“Well then...” Edward’s voice trailed off before he resumed speaking a few moments later. “We will leave a note here at the inn, should anyone inquire after your safety, but I won’t provide directions. But I have a proposition for you. I assume you can read as well as work magic with numbers.” Matt nodded. “And write? Here, let me dictate and you will write down my words.”
He gave some paper and a pen to Matt and set up the table so the boy could write. He then proceeded to give a short account of the day’s events. He spoke slowly and carefully, curious as to how the boy would manage. The result, not surprisingly, was a hastily scribbled but accurate transcription of the speech. Everything was spelled correctly, and even with the obvious hurriedness in which the letters were formed, they were clear and legible. “Write this sentence out properly now,” Edward commanded as his finger alit on a line from the notes, and the result was presented in a clear, well-formed hand, perhaps overly careful and slightly unnatural from lack of practice, but neat and precise.
“You did not learn that behind the barn,” Edward surmised. “You are full of surprises, Matt. Here is my proposition. You are unfit to work now, and will be for several weeks, until your ankle heals. However, you have skills I can use. If you agree, I offer to take you on as an assistant, to take care of my books and basic correspondence, leaving me more time to deal with my customers and other matters of trade. I will offer you room and board in my house in London, and will also pay you a reasonable wage. We will remain here in Derby until I complete my business dealings, likely the day after tomorrow, which will give you some time to rest and regain your strength. Then we will travel to Liverpool, and finally back down to London, where we can finalize the details of our arrangement. Does this suit?”
Matt blinked. “You... you are offering me a position?”
“You have a unique set of skills, lad, and I would be a fool to deny myself the opportunity to profit from them. Yes. I am offering you a position. Do you accept?”
Caution and hope warred in Matt’s eyes, and seeing this conflict, Edward added quietly, “You fear exchanging one fierce and cruel master for another. There are men here in Derby who have known me for some years through my business. I will leave you a list of their names. I will also instruct the innkeeper to give you leave to call any of them here to discuss my character. I will leave you now and summon the innkeeper to attend to you whilst I avail myself of the festivities on the street. I shall require an answer by tomorrow evening, as I hope to leave the following morning. Think carefully, lad, but I should be glad to have you.”
With these words, Edward left the rooms once again, instructing the innkeeper to see if young Matthew had any requests of him. After the tumultuous events of the morning, the festival was a welcome diversion. The clouds had cleared, and the sun shone brightly now, drying the last of the puddles left by the previous night’s storms. Carts and wagons lined the streets. Farmers sold cheese and dried meats and fresh fruits and berries, and village performers amused the assembled crowds with plays moral and comic, as musicians entertained listeners with song and fiddle. The city’s merchants had also set out tables with their own wares: pots, pans, ribbons, soaps, perfumes and face creams. All these and more tempted passersby, and the warm and bright weather lifted the moods of the good denizens of Derby. More food and ale was to be had at the public house at the corner, and a general feeling of goodwill suffused the city.
Of all these diversions Edward partook willingly, purchasing the small gifts he desired to find and securing promises from his business contacts to meet the following morning and discuss their affairs. It was with a stout heart and good cheer, therefore, that he returned to his rooms, and his young charge, several hours later. As part of his wanderings he had also found the apothecary’s shop and had procured a pair of crutches, which he hoped would help Matt manoeuvre himself over the coming weeks as his ankle healed.
Returning to the inn, he knocked on his own door to alert the youth of his return, and entered the suite to find the boy settled back in the chair, now rid of the blankets, with one of Edward’s books for company. Matt had somehow managed to wash and looked somewhat more presentable, although young, so very young. The light yellow hair, cleaner and without its heavy cap, had been hacked in odd chunks to its current length, with little regard for fashion or even the first suggestion of style. With his pale eyes and oversized clothing, the boy looked like a creature from an Irish fairy story. Edward suppressed a chuckle and instead greeted the boy with a hearty “How d’ye do?” The lad shifted in his chair and turned to look at Edward.
“Well, my young friend, you look much better! How do you feel?”
“Mr. Gardiner, hello. I am feeling much better, thank you. Mr. Smith, the innkeeper, tha’ is, brought me a basin to wash, and showed me where to take care of my needs. And I am no longer cold!” He smiled cautiously, the first smile Edward had seen on the boy’s gentle face.
“Good news indeed. And now you are amusing yourself with words, I see. What are you reading? You’ve been looking through my desk!”
“I hoped you would no’ mind. Once I began to feel better, and no longer needed to sleep, I wished for something to occupy my time. This book of plays is very diverting, sir. And sir, I have decided on your proposal. The innkeeper says he knows you from years past and that you be a good sort. I will be proud to throw my lot in with yours and do what I can to earn me keep.”
“Good job! I’ll be happy to have you. But beware - I work hard, and expect as much from my employees. But now we must celebrate our arrangement. Do you drink wine? Perhaps just a glass? Or rather tea? And sweets. I shall tell our good Mr. Smith to bring us something sweet to conclude our evening meal. Before we have our food, though, let us see how you can manage with this crutch, if you are not in too much pain. Can you stand?”
Matthew gingerly shifted his weight on the chair and with Edward’s assistance, rose to stand on one leg, bending the knee of his injured leg so the foot remained off the ground. “Not too long, now. The doctor wants the swelling to decrease, which will happen best if your foot is raised, but I do wish to see if these crutches will do.” Matt placed the crutches carefully under his armpits, and tried to move, swinging his body along. He teetered and looked ready to fall, causing Edward to step forward and move to grab him by the waist. But Matthew instead swung around, to avoid Edward’s hands, and regained his balance.
He must have been hit, Edward surmised. He is terrified of being touched. First my probing at his foot, then the doctor, and now this. And his fear at being seen whilst he changed. Is his body perhaps covered with bruises and welts from being beaten? I must be careful with this one and treat him softly. Surely he needs his privacy to recover from wounds far beyond his broken ankle.
And so he made no comment about Matt’s anxiety at being touched, and instead spoke gently to guide the lad as he learned to manoeuvre on the crutches. After a few minutes, he coaxed the boy back into his easy chair and set the injured foot once again on the cushioned stool.
“Good start, lad. You will be moving along just fine in no time. Rest now, and keep that foot elevated, as the doctor told you. Tomorrow we’ll see about getting you a change of clothing, and the next morning we will travel, if you can. Now, where will you sleep tonight? You need to be up on a bed so you can rise. I believe we will need to share, as there is only the one.”
At this statement, Matt’s face grew white. “Oh no, Mr. Gardiner, sir, I could never do that.” His eyes were wide and terrified once more. He paused, thinking, then added, “it would not do for one such myself to take space in your bed. I will be happy on the sofa. In truth, I will! You do not need to share. Please, do not ask me to share your space.”
Edward wondered briefly at the boy’s refusal to sleep in a comfortable bed, but ascribed it to his natural caution and lack of familiarity with his new master. Satisfied with this sense of deference he agreed to the plan. “Now,” he asked, looking to the book of plays that Matthew had found, “what are you reading?”
Matt had selected a volume of Shakespeare’s plays and was reading through As You Like It. He showed the selection to his new employer. “Shakespeare?” Edward asked in surprise. “Definitely not something you learned behind the barn. You calculate like an adding machine, write with a tutored hand, and read Shakespeare. There is something singular about you, my boy. I think I shall enjoy your company as well as your skills!” They talked briefly about the play, and about Matt’s tastes in literature, but the boy was reticent and spoke as little as possible, clearly tiring once again.
Supper was ordered and the two ate in companionable silence. Matt was a pleasant roommate but loath to discuss his past, and Edward knew that pushing the matter would achieve nothing. Also tired from his adventurous and unusual day, Edward proposed an early evening, to which Matt agreed readily. The innkeeper was summoned once more to provide bedding for the sofa, as well as a screen for privacy at Matt’s insistence, and Matt prepared himself for bed, hobbling around on his new crutches. Satisfied at last that the boy was settled and as comfortable as possible, Edward, too, found his bed, and closed his eyes to sleep.