The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [224]
The truth was Gabriel Furzey was in trouble.
The presence of Charles II in the New Forest that year was not entirely a matter of royal whim. The Forest was very much in the royal mind just then. The merry monarch was always on the lookout for extra income and, like his father before him, he had realized after a time that the royal forests might be a useful asset. The second King Charles was going about things in a much jollier manner; but he was just as thorough. He did more than institute a Forest Eyre; his Commission of Inquiry was going into everything. The regarders were checking every boundary in the Forest. The encroachments and land grants were all carefully recorded; timber selling, charcoal selling, the administration of the forest officers – all were inspected. The king was letting them know that his Forest was to be properly managed in future. There was even a deer census, which revealed that the New Forest still contained some seventy-five hundred fallow and nearly four hundred red deer. Clearly the king wanted to know exactly what the place was truly worth. And, the largest task of all, his justices were ordered to record exactly who held what rights in the Forest and what they should be paying for them.
‘A complete register of claims, right down to the last hog to eat the acorns on the forest floor,’ Hancock the lawyer had described the inquiry to Alice. The justices in Eyre had already held two sessions about the claims. A final one, at which Alice’s would be dealt with, was due shortly. ‘As well as establishing what everyone owes,’ Hancock had pointed out, ‘this will cut off any further claims. Either a claim is recorded, or it’s invalid. It also seems to me’, he added, ‘that the king is cleverly preparing the ground for the future. Once our claims are recorded, we can’t complain about anything he may do at a later date. So long as he doesn’t infringe what is already registered he can look for ways to profit from the Forest in any way he can.’
Whatever the royal motives might be, one thing was very clear: these claims would be final and binding. If yours wasn’t in here it would never be recognized in the future. Every landlord and peasant in the Forest had understood that perfectly by now and they had all turned up before the justices at Lyndhurst. The basis of most claims was the less formal register made thirty-five years before. Whatever was in that would be recognized. If there were further claims they could be added but would need to be proved.
And that, for Gabriel Furzey, was the trouble.
It was his own fault, that was the worst of it: a moment of obstinacy and bad temper a long time ago. Worse still, it was Stephen Pride who had urged him to go and make his claim with young Alice; Stephen Pride who knew he hadn’t. So now the Prides of Oakley had all their rights and he didn’t.
Not that it had made any difference. All through the years of political strife, when no one had bothered much about the Forest, the people of Oakley had gone about their lives as they always had before. He had pastured his few cows, cut turf, collected wood and no one had ever questioned it. Until recently he had clean forgotten about that business of claims back in 1635. And then this New Forest Eyre had come along.
It was his son George who had brought up the matter. Furzey had two sons: William, who had married a girl over in Ringwood and gone to live there, and George, who had stayed at Oakley. When Furzey died, George would take over the smallholding, so naturally he had an interest in the business. Furzey had heard about the coming registration of claims that spring and wondered if he ought to be doing something. Since he hated this sort of thing, though, and remembered the previous occasion with embarrassment, he had tried to put it out of his mind.
Then one evening George had come home with a worried look on his face. ‘You know this register of claims?