The Bawdy Basket

Chapter Seven

As he rode along Cheapside at a steady trot, Lawrence Firethorn congratulated himself on his deft stage management. When the performance of Cupid’s Folly was over, he took Edmund Hoode into the taproom and plied him with Canary wine until the playwright was in an amenable mood. Barnaby Gill and Owen Elias had been recruited to lend their help and they moved in on cue to take over. While they engaged Hoode in conversation, Firethorn slipped quietly away to put his plan into practice. Having given Avice Radley time to return home, he now headed in the same direction. There was a limit to how long his friends could delay her beloved but Firethorn was confident that his horse would get him there well ahead of Hoode, who would travel on foot. He reached the house and tethered his mount. When a maidservant answered his loud knock on the door, his tone was peremptory.

‘Tell your mistress that Lawrence Firethorn is without,’ he declared.

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, gaping in awe at the actor.

‘Hurry, girl. Hurry!’

The command sent her scurrying into the house to gabble the message. It took Avice Radley by surprise but she was sufficiently curious to invite him in. Escorted into the parlour by the maidservant, Firethorn gave her the kind of bow that he reserved for his audiences at the Queen’s Head. He positively exuded charm.

‘Forgive this intrusion, dear lady,’ he said, ‘but I could not help observing that you were in the gallery this afternoon to witness our humble efforts.’

‘There was nothing humble about your performance, Master Firethorn.’

‘You are very gracious, Mistress Radley. And even though we are, in a sense, strangers to each other, I find that I know you well enough to call on you.’

‘That depends on why you are here, sir,’ she said.

‘In the first instance, it is for the pleasure of meeting you.’

‘That pleasure is shared. I have long admired your work at the Queen’s Head.’

‘Then why do you seek to hinder it?’

‘I seek nothing of the kind, I assure you.’

‘It seems so to us, Mistress Radley,’ he said with an appeasing smile. ‘But I am sure the damage you are about to inflict is not deliberate. Ignorance of our company leads you unwittingly to hurt us in this way.’

‘I have no desire to hurt anyone, Master Firethorn.’

‘That is what I told my fellows. When you understand the true state of affairs, you will, I am certain, change your mind. I can see at a glance that you are a reasonable person.’ He lowered his voice to a soft purr. ‘You are also the most delightful and beautiful creature to have graced our inn yard for many years.’

‘Dispense with this needless flattery,’ she advised, looking him in the eye. ‘It will not advantage you in the least. Now, sir, if it is not too much trouble, I would be pleased to hear why you have paid me this unheralded visit. Edmund warned me that you would try to win me over.’

He was taken aback. ‘Warned you?’

‘He is very familiar with your methods. That was why Edmund did his best to conceal my address from you. May I ask how you found it?’

‘A happy accident.’

‘For whom?’

‘For both of us, I hope.’

He smiled again and inclined his head forward in a token bow. Avice Radley fought hard to resist the sheer force of his personality. A man who was able to dominate a large audience at the Queen’s Head was almost overwhelming in a more intimate setting. If only to stop him from looming over her, she invited him to sit. Firethorn mistakenly took it as a sign of progress and he surged on quickly.

‘You have followed the fortunes of Westfield’s Men?’ he asked.

‘Very closely, sir.’

‘Which is your favourite play?’

‘The Merchant of Calais.’

He inflated his chest. ‘Because of my performance in the title role?’

‘No,’ she replied, ‘because it is one of Edmund’s finest dramas.’

‘Nicholas Bracewell had a hand in it,’ he said peevishly. ‘It is by no means pure invention by Edmund. The character I play is inspired by Nick’s own father.’

‘So Edmund told me. We have discussed every play he wrote.’

‘Did he mention his latest work?’

‘Yes, he described the plot of The Duke of Verona in detail to me.’

‘That is more than he has done for me,’ he complained. ‘You obviously have skills of persuasion far greater than my own. I could tease nothing out of Edmund beyond the fact that the play would be his most rewarding.’

‘He no longer labours under that illusion, Master Firethorn.’

‘It is no illusion. I have known him many years and have learnt to read him like a book. He is not given to boasting. If Edmund pronounces a play to be his finest, then I trust his judgement implicitly.’ He sat forward in his chair. ‘Would you deprive London of Edmund Hoode’s masterpiece?’

‘The decision is entirely his own.’

‘Strongly influenced by you, Mistress Radley.’

Firethorn was disappointed to have had so little visible impact on her. Beside the balding and unremarkable Hoode, he accounted himself exquisitely handsome and women usually fell at his feet in submission. It was not simply his striking appearance and glorious voice that they adored. What attracted his female admirers in such profusion was his bubbling energy. Avice Radley seemed strangely impervious to it. The irony was that he was increasingly drawn to her. Arresting when viewed from a distance, she was even more appealing in close proximity.

‘I hoped that we might be more closely acquainted,’ he said with a coaxing smile.

‘It would be an honour to be numbered among your friends, sir.’

‘That is my dearest wish.’

He gazed steadily at her with seductive charm, conveying interest, affection and desire in equal proportions. That look in his eye had presaged a whole series of conquests but Avice Radley was not about to join their ranks.

‘You must visit us in the country,’ she said politely.

‘I would prefer to visit you on your own.’

‘Edmund told me that you would, Master Firethorn. He knows you better than you know yourself. But it would be quite improper of me to receive attentions from anyone but my husband. Besides,’ she added, turning the knife gently in the wound, ‘you are yourself a married man, I hear. Did you swear no vows of fidelity?’

Firethorn was flustered. ‘My private life is irrelevant,’ he said with a sweeping gesture. ‘Put it aside, I pray. I am here on behalf of my company to plead for your assistance. If you have any feeling for Westfield’s Men, or any desire for the continuation of the high quality of its work, do not rob us of one of the main reasons for our success. In short, the excellence of Edmund Hoode’s plays.’

‘I am no robber, sir. Edmund’s withdrawal is voluntary.’

‘It is a catastrophe!’

‘Only until you find a worthy successor.’

‘There is no worthy successor to Edmund.’

‘He has many imitators. School one of them.’

‘We would rather retain the original, Mistress Radley,’ he argued, ‘and it lies within your power to grant us that favour. Enthral him, if you must, tease him, spoil him, pamper him, even marry him, if that is your ambition. But do not build a dam to hold back the torrent of his creative genius.’

‘I hold nothing back, sir. My intent is to encourage that creative genius. I can think of no better way to invest my wealth than by placing it at his disposal.’

‘I can,’ he said, seizing on the remark. ‘If you seek investment, why not donate the money to the company itself? Lord Westfield is our patron but he lacks the funds to lavish upon us. We are ever in need of money to buy new costumes, make new properties, train new apprentices and commission new plays. Put your wealth at our disposal,’ he went on, excited by the notion, ‘and you would bring The Duke of Verona to life, along with many other splendid dramas from the pen of Edmund Hoode.’

‘There is only one problem with that bold idea, Master Firethorn.’

‘What is that, dear lady?’

Avice Radley gave him a cold, bright, proprietary smile.

‘I do not wish to share him,’ she said flatly. ‘Edmund is mine alone.’

The visit to Bartholomew Fair had been enlightening. Nicholas Bracewell and Francis Quilter left Smithfield in a far more positive frame of mind than on the earlier occasion. The information obtained by Lightfoot gave them what was potentially their most important clue to date. Nicholas was circumspect. Instead of accepting the tumbler’s version of events without confirmation, he and Quilter called on the blacksmith in question and heard the evidence from his own lips. Luke Furness was open and honest with them. His memory was sound. As they walked away from his forge, they were even more convinced that the person seeking the whereabouts of Moll Comfrey had indeed been Justice Haygarth.

‘No wonder he was so obstructive when we met him,’ said Quilter.

‘I put that down to judicial caution,’ admitted Nicholas. ‘Moll had many virtues but, to a magistrate, she did not look like a reliable witness. Let us remember that, when she first came forward, you did not take the girl at her word.’

‘I confess it freely, Nick.’

‘She was the victim of her profession.’

‘At least, we now know who contrived her death.’

‘Do we?’

‘Yes,’ said Quilter. ‘It’s as plain as the beard on Ned Pellow’s face. The villain was that devious magistrate, Justice Haygarth.’

‘That’s by no means certain, Frank.’

‘Why else would he come in search of Moll?

‘So that he could take a fuller statement from her,’ suggested Nicholas. ‘Or in order to establish where she might be for the next few days in case he needed her. You may recall that he did ask her where she lodged. All that Moll would say was that she would be staying with friends.’

‘And stout friends they were to her,’ noted Quilter.

‘Just like your father.’

‘The magistrate must be involved, Nick. Apart from us, he was the only person aware of the damning evidence that Moll could give in court. He passed on the news to confederates.’ Quilter became animated, bunching his fists in anger. ‘Justice Haygarth has betrayed us. It is too great a coincidence that Moll should be killed on the very day that she comes forward as a witness.’

‘I agree, Frank. But we still rely on conjecture.’

‘We have linked Sir Eliard Slaney with the two false witnesses,’ said Quilter. ‘There’s no hint of conjecture there.’

‘Linking them together was not difficult,’ Nicholas pointed out, ‘especially as Cyril Paramore is employed by Sir Eliard. Proving that they were in league to send your father to the gallows will not be so straightforward. And the role of the slippery Justice Haygarth still remains unclear.’

‘Not to me, Nick. He’s another accomplice.’

‘We would need to be absolutely sure of that before we accuse a magistrate. His position as a justice of the peace is a strong defence in itself. Accuse him and he would bring an action for slander against us.’

‘Challenge him about his visit to Smithfield yesterday.’

‘He would deny it outright. What then, Frank?’

‘We have the word of the blacksmith.’

‘Will it stand up in court against that of a duly appointed magistrate? And even if it did,’ said Nicholas, ‘what would we achieve? There is nothing to prevent anyone from visiting Smithfield. We may prove that he was there but that will not convince anyone that he was contemplating murder.’

‘Very well, then,’ rejoined Quilter. ‘Let us go back to his house. Confront him with the blanket used to smother Moll Comfrey.’

Nicholas shook his head. ‘It would be a waste of time,’ he decided. ‘Whoever owned that blanket, it was not Justice Haygarth. You met the man, Frank. He may be a deceitful rogue but he is no killer. Can you imagine him creeping through Bartholomew Fair at night with intent to commit murder?’

‘No, Nick,’ conceded the other. ‘He’d lack the nerve.’

‘So would Bevis Millburne. He’s too fat and slovenly for such work. I have my doubts about Master Paramore as well. He’s young and strong enough to do the deed but would be found wanting in other ways. No, Frank,’ he concluded, ‘I’d absolve all three of them. All four, since we must include the name of Sir Eliard Slaney. Remember what we saw at the pieman’s booth. I think the crime was the work of a hired assassin.’

Quilter was scornful. ‘Sir Eliard pays others to do his dirty work for him.’

‘What we need is proof that Justice Haygarth has taken his bribes.’

‘How do we find that?’

‘Go back to Master Cleaton,’ advised Nicholas. ‘Lawyers pick up all the gossip about magistrates. Ask him what he knows about Justice Haygarth and whether the man is worthy of the position he occupies.’

‘He disgraces it, Nick.’

‘Then we must expose him. But only if we have sufficient evidence.’

‘I’ll speak with Henry Cleaton at once.’

‘Good. I’ll make my way to Bankside.’

‘Shall I join you there?’

‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘We’ll meet at your lodging. It will give us the privacy we need to trade what intelligence we gather.’

‘But it is such a long walk from Bankside for you.’

‘That is why I’ll spare my legs. I’ll borrow a horse from Anne this evening and ride back over the bridge. I’d not been in the saddle for weeks until today. It is by far the quickest way to get around the city.’

‘What time shall I expect you?’

‘As soon as may be,’ said Nicholas. ‘But I must speak to Anne first. She called on Lady Slaney today to discuss the design for a new hat. Anne may have gathered further information for us about Lady Slaney’s husband. He is the crucial figure here.’

Sir Eliard Slaney found that the easiest route to marital harmony was to indulge the whims of his wife, at whatever cost. It kept Lady Slaney happy and, more important, out of his way. While he provided the money, she supplied the marriage with decoration and respectability. It had always seemed a good bargain until now.

‘I’ll not hear of it, Eliard!’ she protested.

‘The decision has already been made, my dear.’

‘All my hats are made by Preben van Loew.’

‘His interest in your wardrobe ceases forthwith.’

‘But why? He is a magician at his trade.’

‘It is his employer that I distrust,’ said her husband. ‘Mistress Hendrik is far too inquisitive. She was here to design a new hat for you, not to ask questions about me.’

‘You are bound to provoke curiosity, Eliard.’

‘It was rather more than curiosity.’

‘Not at all,’ she insisted. ‘Anne Hendrik is the most polite of women. She would never pry into our personal affairs. If you must blame anyone, blame me. I love to trumpet your achievements abroad. And why not?’ she asked, touching him on the arm. ‘My husband is a rich and successful man. I am surely entitled to sing his praises.’

‘That is not what you were doing, Rebecca.’

‘It was, it was.’

‘My presence at a public execution is hardly a cause for praise.’

The couple were in their bedchamber, a large, low room with carved panelling that gleamed all round them. While her husband worked himself up into a rage, Lady Slaney surveyed the collection of hats set out on an oak table.

‘They are my pride and joy,’ she said fondly.

‘They can continue to be so, my dear,’ he told her. ‘But they must no longer be purchased from the same milliner.’

‘Why not, Eliard?’

‘Because I say so.’

‘I would never presume to tell you where to buy your hats. Why do you try to take away my freedom of choice?’

‘Because it has been abused.’

‘By whom?’

‘The woman who was here earlier, Rebecca,’ he said vehemently. ‘How did she even know that I went to Smithfield for the execution? What business is it of hers what I do with my time? She was interrogating you. I’ll not have this Anne Hendrik in the house again. Do you understand?’

‘Then I’ll visit her in Bankside.’

‘No!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I forbid it.’

‘Would you stop me from selecting my milliner?’

‘I’ll prevent you from ever seeing this one again,’ he asserted. ‘London has no shortage of milliners. Find another to make your hats.’

‘When I already have the best available?’ she argued, picking up her most recent purchase. ‘Look at it. Preben van Loew is a master of his craft.’

‘Forget that melancholy Dutchman.’

‘I need his skills to enhance my beauty.’

‘My word is final,’ he said with exasperation. ‘Why do you disobey me?’

‘Because I have just cause.’

‘Rebecca!’

‘I do, Eliard,’ she pleaded. ‘It is every woman’s right to employ the dressmakers and milliners that she finds most congenial. Anne Hendrik has become a friend.’

‘Only in order to spy on me.’

‘Why on earth should she want to do that?’

‘Never you mind.’

‘But I do mind, Eliard,’ she said tenaciously. ‘I’ve been a good wife and never once ventured to disagree with you. No husband could have less to complain about. You must admit that. On one thing, however, I must assert my privilege. Humour me, sir,’ she cooed. ‘It is little enough to ask, surely?’ She held up the hat for inspection. ‘Have you ever seen a more exquisite piece of work than this?’

Her husband exploded. Grabbing the hat, he flung it against the wall with such force that most of its jewelled accessories were dislodged. Lady Slaney let out a cry of horror and tried to pick up the hat. Firm hands took her by the shoulders and swung her round. Sir Eliard Slaney was in no mood for resistance from her.

‘Do as I tell you, Rebecca!’

‘Yes, yes,’ she said between sobs.

‘There’s more to this than you could understand.’

‘If you say so, Eliard.’

‘She dwells in Bankside, you say?’

‘That is true.’

‘Where?’ he demanded. ‘I need to know her address.’

Anne Hendrik’s account was both interesting and alarming. While he was pleased with the information she had gained, Nicholas was disturbed that she had fallen foul of Sir Eliard Slaney. He blamed himself for putting her in a position of danger.

‘It was wrong of me to send you again so soon, Anne.’

‘I went at Lady Slaney’s request.’

‘And asked questions at mine,’ he said. ‘Because of that, you are like to lose your most lucrative source of income.’

‘I would hardly have retained it much longer if Sir Eliard is the monster you take him to be. He frightened me, Nick,’ she confessed. ‘Had I not had Preben with me, I might have endured more than merely his reproach.’

He took her in his arms. ‘Can you forgive me?’

‘The fault is as much mine as yours.’

‘No, Anne.’

‘It was,’ she said. ‘I should have been more careful. But once Lady Slaney begins to talk, it is difficult to make her stop. I sought to take advantage of the fact by feeding her questions. It was foolish of me not to see her husband enter.’

‘What you found out was well worth the visit.’

‘Then I am content.’

He kissed her on the lips and embraced her warmly to show his concern. They were in the parlour of the house in Bankside. Nicholas had returned from Bartholomew Fair at as brisk a pace as the busy streets and a crowded London Bridge would allow. He was glad that he had made the effort to see Anne. After her unpleasant confrontation with Sir Eliard Slaney, she needed the sort of comfort and reassurance that Preben van Loew could never offer.

‘What of your day, Nick?’ she asked.

‘It has been filled with surprises.’

‘I want to hear about each one of them.’

‘Then I must start with the visit of Lightfoot.’

Nicholas told her about the letter that was discovered in Moll Comfrey’s basket and what transpired when the missive was delivered to the lawyer. He also gave her a full description of the visit to Smithfield. Her sympathy was immediately aroused.

‘Poor Frank!’ she said. ‘It must have been torture for him to return to the very place where his father was executed.’

‘I could see that the memory haunted him.’

‘He has been through so much in these past few days.’

‘Frank will gladly undergo far more in order to vindicate his father.’

‘I still do not understand why Gerard Quilter was falsely accused.’

‘It was an act of revenge, Anne,’ said Nicholas. ‘Sir Eliard Slaney had many bruising encounters with him in court and never forgave him for the courageous way that Gerard Quilter defended his brother’s property.’

‘But how would he know when to strike?’

‘By choosing the moment with care.’

‘The meeting with Vincent Webbe was a pure accident, surely,’ she said. ‘How could Sir Eliard have known that the two men would clash like that?’

‘Because he arranged it.’

‘Arranged it?’

‘That’s my guess,’ he said. ‘You forget my occupation, Anne. I spend my whole working day helping to devise effects onstage. I can discern contrivance when I see it elsewhere. Gerard Quilter lived in the country and only visited London rarely. One of those occasions was the annual banquet at his guild hall. Knowing that he would be there, I suspect that Sir Eliard arranged for Master Webbe to be nearby when Frank’s father arrived. That is where their brawl took place, close by the Mercers’ Hall in Cheapside. Vincent Webbe provoked the argument.’

‘Why?’

‘He had reasons of his own to hate Gerard Quilter.’

‘And you believe he was set on?’

‘No question but that he was.’

Anne was confused. ‘Then his murder was premeditated?’

‘It had to be,’ he reasoned. ‘The brawl took place on one day yet the victim, as we now know, met his death the following night. A definite plan was followed, Anne. Moll Comfrey was the only person who could have absolved Gerard Quilter in court but he was unable to call her in his defence.’

‘And the voices of two witnesses sent him to the gallows.’

‘Two false witnesses, paid and instructed by Sir Eliard Slaney.’

‘It accords with my experience of the man,’ she said. ‘Lady Slaney praises her husband to the skies but I saw another side of is character today. When he came into that room, there were murder dancing in his eyes. I was terrified, Nick.’

‘You’ll not have to go through that ordeal again.’

Anne smiled. ‘Then I’ll be saved from a further agony,’ she said. ‘Lady Slaney all but talks my ears off. I may lose her custom but I’ll also be spared that garrulous tongue of hers.’

Nicholas embraced her again. He stayed long enough to restore her confidence before making his excuses to leave. Anne readily acceded to his request to borrow the horse from her stable. She stopped him at the door.

‘Where will you go?’

‘To see what Frank Quilter has learnt from the lawyer.’

‘And then?’

‘To the Queen’s Head,’ he said. ‘I promised to tell Lawrence Firethorn what progress we are making. He wants Frank back in harness as soon as possible. The loss of a good actor like Frank is a bitter blow to the company. Though not,’ he added, ‘as profound a loss as that of our playwright.’

‘That shocks me, Nick,’ she said anxiously. ‘Edmund Hoode is such a loyal fellow. Can he really mean to desert Westfield’s Men in this way?’

‘So he affirms. But his plan may yet be thwarted. Lawrence Firethorn has a scheme to halt Edmund in his tracks,’ said Nicholas. ‘I hope it meets with success.’

Edmund Hoode was horrified at the news. He realised how he had been duped.

‘So that is why Barnaby and Owen kept me distracted for so long!’

‘Yes,’ said Avice Radley. ‘He wanted to visit me without impediment.’

‘What did Lawrence say?’

‘Exactly what you warned me he would say.’

‘Did he try to charm you into acquiescence?’

‘He tried and failed, Edmund.’

‘This is unforgivable,’ he said, stamping a foot. ‘Lawrence had no business to interfere in my private life. How did he even know where to find you?’

‘I fancy that he somehow always manages to learn what he wishes to know. When I first heard the knock on my front door, I hoped that it was you. Instead,’ she went on, ‘it was Master Firethorn, as bold as brass.’

‘He should never be left alone with any lady, least of all mine.’

‘I was proof against his wiles.’

Hoode beamed. ‘I never doubted you for a moment, Avice.’

‘Forewarned was forearmed.’

‘Every woman in London needs to be warned about Lawrence.’

Hoode was agitated. When he arrived at Avice Radley’s house, his euphoria had vanished as soon as he heard about her earlier visitor. He was vengeful. His resolve was steeled even more. Seated beside her in the parlour, his eyes sparkled with determination.

In trying to keep me, he has only managed to drive me away more speedily.’

‘There’ll be worse to come, Edmund.’

‘Worse?’

‘I think so,’ she cautioned. ‘You know your friend better than I do, but I sense that he is not a man to give up at the first repulse. Master Firethorn will be back before long with another stratagem.’

Hoode was defiant. ‘I’ll not let him make trial of your virtue again, Avice.’

‘He’ll use other means next time.’

‘Not if I order him to stay clear of my beloved.’

‘Master Firethorn is not inclined to obey orders. He prefers to issue them.’

‘Too true,’ he agreed. ‘You have caught his essence there. Lawrence has the habit of command, but I have tired of being told what to do and when to do it. As an actor, he is supreme. As a husband, he is unreliable. As a friend, alas, he can be duplicitous.’

‘What of the others?’

‘They, too, have tried to persuade me to stay.’

‘Have you been swayed by their arguments?’

‘Not an inch, Avice. My only commitment is to you.’

‘And to your work,’ she corrected.

‘That, too, naturally,’ he said, ‘though it will be solely in your service. I can imagine nothing more wonderful than writing sonnets in praise of the woman who has transformed my life. It is strange,’ he mused, stroking her hand. ‘A week ago, I would not have believed that anyone could separate me from Westfield’s Men. The theatre has been my life for so long. It has brought me heady triumphs and dear friends. Yet now I am ready to turn my back on them without a hint of regret.’

‘There must be some remorse, surely?’

‘None whatsoever.’

She was pleased. ‘Are you so completely mine, then?’

‘Wholly yours, my love. Before we met,’ he explained, ‘I only dwelt on the more pleasant aspects of working with Westfield’s Men. They have been my family, Avice. But since I met you, I see the defects of such a life. It is narrow, selfish and vainglorious. I pretend that I have the freedom to write but it is a poor sort of liberty. I have to meet Lawrence’s demands and Barnaby’s requests and serve the needs of an audience made up of everyone from mean apprentices to pampered courtiers. When I am at the beck and call of so many competing demands, wherein lies my freedom?’

‘Only in your imagination, Edmund.’

‘I want the privilege of writing what I choose to write.’

‘Then I am the person who is able to grant it to you.’

‘I’ll be eternally grateful, Avice.’

‘The gratitude is all mine,’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘I was a grieving widow until I met you. Now, I have the heart and happiness of a young girl.’

‘I will study to increase that happiness,’ he promised.

‘Will you, Edmund?’

‘Put me to the test.’

She looked at him shrewdly. ‘What did you dislike most about your life?’

‘Its emptiness.’

‘Yet you were feted every afternoon at the Queen’s Head.’

‘Applause soon dies away. It has no tangible quality.’

‘What else will you be glad to leave behind?’

‘There are so many things,’ he said as he pondered. ‘Uncertainty, for a start. The fear that plague, fire or Puritan disapproval will drive us from our inn yard. Then there is the constant bickering of my fellows, the sheer pain of creation, the rowdiness of our audiences, the shortcomings of the Queen’s Head and the endless arguments with its miserable landlord. And one thing more, Avice.’

‘Go on.’

‘The cruelty of my occupation.’

‘Cruelty?’

‘No matter how hard I work,’ he said gloomily, ‘no matter how cunningly I spin my webs of words, no matter how many different demands I try to answer, there is always someone to carp and criticise. Perfection is a mirage. I will never write the play that actors and audiences love without reservation. I inhabit a world of approximation. My plots are almost sound, my characters are nearly convincing, my verse borders on an excellence that I’ll never attain when I’m the servant of so many masters.’

‘And when you come to me?’ she asked.

‘I’ll be a willing slave to one mistress.’

She smiled. ‘I’ll expect some mastery from you as well, Edmund.’

‘You shall have it in abundance.’

‘There will be times when I may choose to play the slave.’

‘That is more than I dare wish,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘I love you, Avice. Until you came into my life, I never appreciated what true love really was. We will be overwhelmed with ecstasy.’

‘When?’

‘When we are together.’

‘I am glad that you mentioned that,’ she said, moving closer to him. ‘I have an idea I wish to put to you, Edmund.’

It was mid-evening before Nicholas Bracewell climbed the stairs at his friend’s lodging. Francis Quilter occupied two small attic rooms that were draughty in winter and stuffy during summer months. Low beams obliged visitors to duck at several points. Scant furniture owed little to the carpenter’s art. The cheap accommodation was a testimony to Quilter’s commitment to his profession. As the son of a wealthy mercer, he could more easily have followed in his father’s wake and led a comfortable existence in a large house. Instead, he spurned the luxuries that were his birthright in favour of the more ambiguous joys of the playhouse. Prosperity was an irrelevance to him. The riches that Quilter sought lay hidden in the plays in which he performed. That was where his true wealth was to be found. Yet even those rewards were far from his mind now. Another mission had supplanted his quest for glory on the stage.

‘Henry Cleaton was more than helpful,’ he announced.

‘What did the lawyer tell you, Frank?’

‘No more than I expected to hear. Justice Haygarth is not held in high regard with the legal profession. He has a reputation for being sly, supercilious and unnecessarily harsh on offenders.’

‘Can he be trusted?’

‘Not according to Henry Cleaton.’

‘How can such an unsuitable man become a magistrate?’

‘Patronage, Nick.’

‘It is the bane of our country,’ said Nicholas. ‘Those with influential friends will rise while more deserving people are pushed aside. It is shameful. Justice will never be dispensed fairly when it is in the hands of men like Master Haygarth!’

‘There is a more glaring example than him.’

‘Is there?’

‘Think of the judge who sentenced my father to death,’ said Quilter. ‘The higher a man goes in the law, the greater the damage he is able to create. Henry Cleaton was the first to admit it. The judicial system is rife with corruption.’

‘How much did you tell him, Frank?’

‘Enough to whet his appetite.’

‘Is he of the same mind as us?’

‘Yes, Nick,’ replied the other, ‘but he advises care. He is a true lawyer. Caution is ever his cry. Nothing I divulged surprised him in any way. He is ready to believe the very worst of Sir Eliard Slaney.’

‘So am I now, Frank.’

‘Why?’

‘He had the gall to turn on Anne.’

Nicholas told him about the visit to Lady Slaney that she had made that afternoon. Quilter was upset that he had been indirectly responsible for her discomfort at the house.

‘Anne should never have gone there on my account,’ he said. ‘It only deepens my feeling of guilt, Nick. I must not let my concerns put you or her in danger.’

‘That is not what happened.’

‘Yet you say that Sir Eliard turned on her.’

‘Anne is well able to look after herself,’ said Nicholas proudly. ‘Besides, his anger was checked by the presence of his wife and of Preben Van Loew. As for the loss of custom that ensued, she sees it as a blessing in disguise.’

‘It might shortly have been curtailed in any case.’

‘I hope so, Frank. If we are able to put Sir Eliard and his friends where they belong, Lady Slaney will have no income to pay for her expensive tastes. It is clear that her husband has beguiled her completely. She knows nothing of his villainy.’

‘The woman has been living in a fool’s paradise.’

‘Not for much longer,’ said Nicholas. ‘What you have learnt about Justice Haygarth is no more than we suspected but his name has yet to be linked to Sir Eliard. Is there any means by which we can do that?’

‘Henry Cleaton willingly took on that office.’

‘Good. This lawyer is proving his worth.’

‘He never doubted that the evidence against my father was false and vindictive,’ said Quilter. ‘Yet he was unable to save him. It troubles him like a deep wound. He will do all in his power to assist us.’

‘So will Lightfoot,’ recalled Nicholas. ‘We must not forget him.’

‘What help can he offer?’

‘He has already placed Justice Haygarth at the fair for us and I am sure there is more assistance he can render. Moll Comfrey was a creature of the fair, Frank. That was her universe. Lightfoot is our guide and we’ll not find a more eager man.’

‘True.’

‘He loved Moll as a friend. He begs to be of use.’

‘We need all the support that we can muster.’

‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘and we have gathered plenty already. The tumbler and the lawyer have been staunch allies, and Anne has been in a position to offer particular help. Then there is Lawrence Firethorn,’ he added. ‘Without his agreement to release you from the company, none of our enquiries would have been possible.’

‘I’ll hope to repay him in due course.’

‘You will do that best by exonerating your father.’

‘I know, Nick. What is the next step to be?’

‘That must be taken by you and by Lightfoot. I am somewhat preoccupied, Frank. You may be liberated from the company but I must attend a rehearsal and performance tomorrow. Until late afternoon, I’ll not be able to join the hunt.’

‘Direct us instead.’

‘Lightfoot will continue his work at Bartholomew Fair,’ said Nicholas. ‘It was the blacksmith who spoke with Justice Haygarth but there may be someone at Smithfield who caught a glimpse of a more sinister visitor at midnight. If there was such a witness, Lightfoot will track him down.’

‘What of me?’

‘Return to your lawyer in the morning, Frank. We do not simply need evidence of a friendship between Sir Eliard Slaney and a corrupt magistrate. There is someone else whom we must scrutinise.’

‘Who is that, Nick?’

‘The person whom we have forgotten,’ Nicholas reminded him. ‘Vincent Webbe, the murder victim. We know why Sir Eliard Slaney wanted to wreak his revenge on your father, but he must also have had a strong reason to see Master Webbe killed. What was his motive and whom did he hire to carry out the murder? Look to Vincent Webbe,’ he advised. ‘There may be matter in it.’

Opinions at the Queen’s Head were still divided with regard to the execution of Gerard Quilter. As they sat around a table in the taproom, Barnaby Gill, Owen Elias and James Ingram jousted once more. Gill was emphatic.

‘Lawrence should show leadership for once and ban Frank from the company.’

‘On what grounds?’ asked Elias.

‘The name of Quilter brings opprobrium to Westfield’s Men.’

‘So does the name of Barnaby Gill.’

Gill bridled. ‘There is no need to descend to insult.’

‘Then stop insulting one of your own fellows.’

‘Barnaby did not mean to do that,’ said Ingram, trying to calm them down. ‘He has a high regard for Frank Quilter as an actor, as do we all. Unfortunately, this business has tainted his name. Any ballad-maker will sell you a song about the foul murder of Vincent Webbe. The name of Quilter is on everyone’s lips.’

‘That does not mean we turn our back on Frank,’ said Elias.

‘We have to bow to circumstance, Owen.’

‘James shows the sense that you lack,’ said Gill, jabbing a finger at the Welshman. ‘I took Frank to be an honourable fellow but I was mistaken. Anyone else in his predicament would have resigned from the company to spare it any damage.’

‘That is what he has done, Barnaby,’ said Elias.

‘He has merely withdrawn from us and left us short of a good actor. Were he to quit, we would be able to replace him with a new sharer.’

‘There is some truth in what Barnaby says,’ decided Ingram.

Elias turned on him. ‘Will you desert Frank Quilter as well?’

‘A complete rest from the playhouse might be in his best interests.’

‘What would you have him do, James? Skulk away from London?’

‘Most people in his position would prefer the shadows.’

‘Only if they believed their father to be guilty.’

‘As he patently was in this case,’ insisted Gill.

Ingram sighed. ‘The evidence against him left no room for doubt, Owen.’

‘It did in Frank’s mind,’ said Elias, ‘and in Nick Bracewell’s. They’ll turn the city upside down in the search for the truth.’

‘I fear that we already know the truth. Gerard Quilter was guilty.’

‘Meanwhile,’ said Gill irritably, ‘we are deprived of an actor who should be replaced, and saddled with a book holder whose concentration is elsewhere.’

Elias banged the table. ‘That’s a foul calumny!’

‘I agree,’ said Ingram. ‘Nobody does his work more conscientiously than Nick Bracewell. That was an unjust remark, Barnaby.’

‘Was it?’ retorted Gill. ‘Then why did he rush off as soon as the performance was over this afternoon? It was to help Frank Quilter in a fruitless search for evidence. How can Nicholas fulfil his obligations when his mind is elsewhere?’

Elias and Ingram joined forces to refute the accusation. They were still defending Nicholas strongly when Lawrence Firethorn bore down on them. His arrival brought the argument to a halt. Attention shifted to a more immediate threat to the company.

‘Well, Lawrence,’ asked Elias, ‘did you visit the lady?’

‘I did,’ said Firethorn, forcing a smile, ‘and I was warmly received.’

‘In her bedchamber, I hope.’

‘Our meeting lacked that particular delight, Owen.’

‘But that was the reason we detained Edmund,’ said the Welshman. ‘You swore to us that you could quash this romance in the wink of an eye, if you were but left alone with Mistress Radley for a short while.’

Firethorn cleared his throat. ‘That course of action proved superfluous.’

‘She rejected him,’ announced Gill.

‘Quite the reverse, Barnaby. It was I who had to fight her off.’

‘I have never known you resist such advances before.’

‘Nor I,’ added Ingram.

Elias was suspicious. ‘What happened at Mistress Radley’s house?’

‘The lady began to see reason,’ replied Firethorn.

‘Reason to leave Edmund alone?’

‘It fell short of that, Owen. What I convinced her to do was to think about the effect his departure would have on Westfield’s Men. In short, I changed her mind.’

‘It does not sound like it to me, Lawrence,’ said Gill. ‘You boasted that you could charm the lady into bed and make her forget that Edmund Hoode even existed. I fancy that you have come back empty-handed.’

‘No, Barnaby!’

‘Then what did you actually achieve?’ wondered Ingram.

‘Time to reflect,’ said Firethorn.

‘On what?’

‘On what she is doing. Avice Radley is an intelligent woman. She appreciated the cogency of my argument. It will prevent her from making any rash decisions. That was my achievement, gentlemen,’ he said, almost believing it himself. ‘I have bought additional time. Edmund will be ours for longer than we thought. That will give us more opportunity to work on him — and on his beloved.’

Gill was derisive. ‘Is that all you have brought back? A stay of execution?’

‘Have faith in my powers of persuasion, Barnaby.’

‘They are at their best between the sheets of a bed,’ observed Elias.

Firethorn ordered a drink and tried to move the conversation away from the delicate subject of Avice Radley. The others were plainly disturbed. Hoping for a positive result from his visit to the lady, they sensed that it had only made the situation worse. Gill was especially fearful, predicting the collapse of Westfield’s Men.

‘Without Edmund, we are all doomed!’ he cried.

‘I admit that I’d sooner lose you from the company,’ said Firethorn spitefully.

‘But I am its unrivalled clown.’

‘Comic jigs are more easily replaced than a talented playwright.’

‘We need both,’ said Ingram, ‘so stop baiting Barnaby. He has no equal.’

Gill was mollified. ‘Thank you, James. It is a relief to know that I have one friend in the company.’

‘Two,’ said Elias with an affectionate grin. ‘We have our differences, Barnaby, but I’ve never seen a clown who could hold a candle to you. Like the rest of us, however, you shine best when Edmund has supplied the opportunity. We must not lose him.’

‘Nor shall we,’ insisted Firethorn with false confidence. ‘Leave him to me.’

But they would not relent. They continued to bombard him with questions about his visit to Avice Radley until they had him in open retreat. Firethorn was grateful when relief arrived in the form of Nicholas Bracewell. He embraced the book holder.

‘Thank heaven you have come, dear heart!’ he said. ‘I need your help.’

‘It is yours for the asking,’ offered Nicholas. ‘What has happened?’

Gill was malicious. ‘Lawrence has been spurned by a woman at last. He waggled his codpiece at Mistress Radley and she sent him on his way.’

‘That is untrue!’ howled Firethorn.

Nicholas was worried. ‘Did you call on the lady?’

‘Yes, Nick.’

‘Was that wise?’

‘I thought so at the time. Barnaby and Owen distracted Edmund so that I could pay my respects without interruption.’ He turned to the others. ‘And I did put our case with vigour,’ he insisted.

‘You promised to reserve your vigour for her bedchamber,’ said Elias.

‘Was that the device?’ asked Nicholas with disgust. ‘I am glad that I had no part in it. What a cruel way to treat Edmund after all he has done for the company. Had you succeeded, you might have blighted this romance but you would certainly have put Edmund to flight. Could you really expect him to stay with fellows who would descend to such underhand means?’

‘He need never have known he truth, Nick,’ bleated Firethorn. ‘I hoped to charm the lady in such a way that she would not even agree to see him again.’

‘Your charms grow weary, Lawrence,’ teased Gill.

Elias chuckled. ‘You should have sent me.’

‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘It is not a subject for mockery. Edmund loves the lady. The romance may not suit our purposes but that is no reason to destroy it utterly. Edmund is our friend and deserves to be treated with more respect.’

‘Nick speaks well,’ agreed Ingram. ‘Your behaviour was gross.’

‘We were forced into it by desperation,’ said Firethorn.

‘It was you who did the forcing, Lawrence,’ noted Gill. ‘Owen and I were mere accomplices. You were the author of the device.’

‘It might have worked, it might have worked.’

‘Plainly, it did not,’ said Nicholas. ‘What will the consequences be?’

‘Have no qualms on that account,’ said Firethorn airily. ‘Where charm failed, reason took a hold. I am convinced that I made Mistress Radley reconsider her actions.’

Nicholas was stern. ‘I hope that you regret yours.’

‘You should, Lawrence,’ said Ingram. ‘They were ill-founded.’

‘We were fools to think you could ever succeed,’ concluded Gill.

‘Enough of my adventures,’ said Firethorn, trying to wave the topic away with a swing of his arm. ‘Let’s hear what Nick has to say. Edmund will stay with us for at least a month. Frank Quilter has already gone. When may we expect him back, Nick?’

‘Never, if the decision were mine,’ said Gill.

‘It is not, Barnaby.’

‘You and he have brought disgrace upon the company, Lawrence.’

‘Frank is determined to remove all hint of disgrace,’ said Nicholas, interrupting the row before it could develop. ‘We are not only certain that his father was innocent of the charge of murder, we have gathered sufficient evidence to prove it. All that we need is a little more information before we can seek a review of the case.’

‘Information, Nick?’ asked Firethorn. ‘What sort of information?’

Nicholas did not wish to discuss their investigation in such a public place and was spared the awkwardness of having to do so by the appearance of Edmund Hoode. The playwright burst into the taproom with uncharacteristic urgency and glared around until he spotted Firethorn. Teeth gritted, he stamped across to the actor-manager.

‘I have just come from Mistress Radley’s house,’ he said. ‘She tells me that you had the audacity to call on her earlier, Lawrence.’

‘Yes,’ admitted Firethorn. ‘I just happened to be passing and felt it only a courtesy to introduce myself.’

‘How did you even know where she dwelt?’

‘That is neither here nor there, Edmund.’

‘Lawrence tells us that he prevailed upon your inamorata, Edmund,’ said Gill, seeing a chance to embarrass Firethorn. ‘As a result of his persuasion, he assured us, Mistress Radley would make you change your mind.’

‘And so she did, Barnaby,’ said Hoode grimly. ‘I have considered afresh.’

‘There!’ shouted Firethorn in triumph. ‘I knew that I could bring it off.’

‘All that you have brought off is our friendship, Lawrence. How dare you interfere in this way! I did not think that even you would sink so low. But it has forced me to change my mind,’ Hoode said with emphasis. ‘When I announced my decision to leave, I offered to remain until the end of next month. In view of your appalling behaviour today, Lawrence, I will alter my date of departure.’

Firethorn was hopeful. ‘You’ll stay much longer?’

‘No,’ affirmed Hoode. ‘Westfield’s Men will lose me at the end of this month.’