By noon on the third day of the court session, the great limestone nave of the King’s Bench had been transformed into the sovereign payback counting house of the realm. Where barrister rows and ministerial benches had once stood in rigid hierarchy, eight massive counting tables of white oak had been erected upon frame stands, covered in green baize cloth and lit up by copper candelabra. Across these tables sat thirty-two sworn clerks from the town parishes, working side by side with court scribes and apprentice draymen to weigh, catalog, and disburse four hundred and twelve thousand gold sovereigns seized from the vaults and foreign accounts of Lucian Vane.
Outside in the Grand Public Square, an extraordinary gathering of working people had assembled under the pale autumn sun. Forty heavy freight wains with broad iron tires and canvas tilts had arrived from the country valleys. Their draft teams of was heavy Clydesdales and roan geldings standing quietly in the traces. Common citizens from the capital had brought baskets of crusty rye bread, roasted root vegetables, and wooden jugs of hot spiced cider to share with the rural wagon drivers. For thirty-five winters, the capital had pulled out wealth from the provinces through an unbending network of tolls and caveats. Today, the wealth of the countryside was returning home.
