The Triple Goddess Read Online Free Page A

was that of Uberrima Fides , or Utmost Good Faith, and anyone who was discovered to have breached the highest standard of honesty and truth was banned from the Room, his name vilified for ever more.
    For ease of access by the brokers, underwriters sat at the corners of the boxes, and the claims underwriter at the other as far away as possible from the men who had put the loss-making business on the books. In between were the entry boys who received the stamped and signed slips that the underwriters tossed at them. There were no fat entry boys: owing to the lack of space, they had to be not clever but thin, and were expected to keep their weight down like jockeys.
    In the middle of one side of the marine floor was the Rostrum, or Podium: a mahogany pulpit under a canopy that housed the world-famous symbol of Lloyd’s of London, the ship’s bell that had been salvaged from the wreck of HMS Lutine after she sank in 1799. The rostrum was where the waiter-on-duty, or Caller, sat and, at the request of any broker mounting the step to either side, would announce over a Tannoy system the name of an associate he wished to make contact with. The waiter would call each name three times at intervals as if he were auctioning him off. The sound reached the farthest corners of the Room, and brokers’ ears were attuned to hearing themselves being called above the din, even when they were “in” with an underwriter. As soon as they were free, they would either rush to the rostrum to meet their colleague, or stand at the balcony and snap their fingers until they were spotted.
    The area around the podium was busiest at one o’clock, when those who had arranged to have lunch together met there. At Lloyd’s, seniority of tenure counted for everything; in proof of which there was an informal society called the Three Rooms’ Club, of which the unelected members were those who had worked in all three of the last trading locations.
    There was a highly charged atmosphere about Lloyd’s that thrilled even grizzled veterans of the market, as they pushed through the heavy revolving doors of brass and reinforced glass at the corners of the Room and were engulfed by the roar within. The mettle of the most glib and well-prepared brokers was tested as they made their presentations on behalf of their clients to underwriters who depended for their survival on an ability to assess and rate risks, and make informed decisions on whether or not to subscribe to a slip In this they were guided both by their professional assessment of the information submitted by the brokers, and the intuition bred of long experience.
    Underwriters would decide on rates and whether or not to subscribe to a risk, irrespective of its size, and for how much, on the spot. Risk assumers did not ask to take information away to review in their offices, or consult with other parties on, or sleep on a possible commitment; to habitually suggest such a thing would so stigmatize their reputations that brokers would endeavour to complete their placements elsewhere.
    Each risk was “led” by a one of a small number of quoting underwriters who specialized in the relevant class of business, and with whom the broker, or intermediary, negotiated a rate that he was able to sell to his client. When the broker was successful in obtaining a “firm order”, he returned to the lead, who would put down his stamp, which was personalized with his initials and syndicate number, at the top of the slip underneath the terms and conditions, write a percentage share against it, and sign it on behalf of the “Names”, or Members, of the syndicate that he represented.
    This was known as “taking a line”, and once a line had been written the syndicate was “bound” to the terms and conditions of the contract. The broker would then proceed to see the other syndicates of his choosing around the rest of the market, “show” the slip to them, and continue around the “following” market until one