The hospital was independent of the Archbishop, and only subject to the king or his deputies. The great Walter Langton, when master in 1294, ordered each chaplain a seat and desk in the cloister. In 1344 there were, amongst others, in the hospital a clerk of the church, a cooper, 3 bakers, 2 brewers, 2 smiths, 3 carters, a miller, a swineherd, 12 boatmen, a ferrywoman, 2 valets, a groom, a cellarer, a clerk of the exchequer, an auditor, and a seneschal. There was plenty of work for all in such a large establishment. There were the master, brethren, and sisters to wait on, the sick and needy to attend to, the destitute to relieve at the gates, whilst a few in their own homes had a corrody in the shape of food or money. The inmates were well provided for; the king’s almsmen received the same fare as the chaplains, namely, a loaf of white bread and a gallon of ale of the better quality, flesh and fish for dinner and supper, also a loaf and a gallon of ale of the second quality. During the year, 565 stones of cheese and 60 stones of butter were consumed. In the year 1469 there were in the hospital the master, 13 brethren, 4 secular priests, 8 sisters, 30 choristers, 2 schoolmasters, 6 servitors, and 206 beadmen. Seventy years later this useful hospital was dissolved, Dr. Thomas Magnus, Archdeacon and a member of the Privy Council being then master. He became parson of Sessay Church where he died eleven years later. He is commemorated by a fine brass engraved with his effigy. A story tells how once a miracle was wrought in St. Leonard’s Hospital. The hero of the tale, so far from being a saint was very much a sinner. After a not too reputable secular career, he was persuaded to become a religious. The change in his life was more apparent than real, for, it seems, when fair-time came round, he made up his mind to join, as on many a previous occasion, in the festivities of the season. Taking advantage of the after-dinner sleepiness of the porter, and seizing the latter worthy’s keys, Brother Jucundus, for that is the hero’s name, made his exit, contemptuous of discipline. Whether it was the unusually severe life he had lately been leading, is not known, but it appears that by the evening the brother’s ideas were, as a result of his unwisely frequent potations, in quite a nebulous state. Meanwhile, attention having been directed to the absence of Jucundus from the monastery, two brothers were deputed with orders to discover his whereabouts and to rescue him. Eventually they conveyed their erring comrade home in a wheelbarrow. Such a breach of discipline was a most serious offence; indeed, Jucundus was sentenced to be walled up alive. This unpleasant process was actually carried out, and our friend thought that he had looked his last upon the sun.