‘It is the lodger that we need to worry about, Sir Eliard.’
‘I agree.’
‘What is to be done?’
‘In the first instance, I have alerted Bevis and Cyril to the situation. They need to be on their guard in case anyone comes asking questions about them. They were the witnesses at the trial. Francis Quilter is bound to turn his attention to them.’
‘They are staunch men. They’ll not let us down.’
‘Nor must you, Adam,’ cautioned the other. ‘I’ll not tolerate any sign of weakness. You must stand four-square with us.’
‘That goes without saying, Sir Eliard.’
‘Betray me and I’ll carve the sentence on your heart.’
Haygarth shuddered. ‘You will have no cause to do that.’
‘Describe him to me.’
‘Who?’
‘Nicholas Bracewell. All that you have told me is that he is sturdy and resolute. What of his age, his height, his colouring, his attire, his bearing?’
‘Well,’ recalled Haygarth, ‘he’ll not see thirty years again, Sir Eliard. He is a tall man, something of your own height, with fair hair and beard. In his own way, I suppose, he is handsome enough. Francis Quilter was in doublet and hose but Nicholas Bracewell wore a buff jerkin. He bore himself well,’ he said. ‘In short, he was a fine, upstanding fellow, more able to control his temper than Master Quilter.’
Sir Eliard was thoughtful. ‘It
has
to be the same man,’ he decided.
‘The same man?’
‘Your description tallies with that given to me by Bevis Millburne. On the night of the execution, we celebrated at the Golden Fleece. A stranger arrived to see Bevis and congratulate him on his part in the trial. He left before Bevis could find out his name but I am certain it must be Nicholas Bracewell. This is upsetting,’ said Sir Eliard, chewing his lip. ‘Since he saw Bevis at the Golden Fleece, the chances are that he noticed me as well. Small wonder that he is poking about in my affairs.’
‘What are we to do about him, Sir Eliard?’
‘I think that you predicted his future accurately, Adam.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes,’ said the other with a ghost of a smile. ‘You said that you were as close as the grave. There’s nothing as close as that, is there? Graves seal up everything tidily. Gerard Quilter learnt that and so did Moll Comfrey. I think it may be time for Nicholas Bracewell to make the same discovery.’
Henry Cleaton defied all his expectations. When he was introduced to the lawyer, Nicholas Bracewell expected to find a worthy, studious man in the dull garb of his profession, careful in speech and obsessed with the need for caution. Instead, he was looking at a jovial individual of fifty with a shock of red hair that matched the colour of his cheeks, and a stocky frame in a blue doublet. There was a faintly bucolic air about Cleaton. His office was small and cluttered, making its occupant seem even larger. Chuckling to himself, the lawyer cleared piles of documents off a chair
and a stool so that his visitors could sit down. He glanced at Nicholas.
‘Frank tells me how helpful you have been to him,’ he said.
‘Nick has been a godsend,’ affirmed Quilter. ‘Without him, I’d be lost.’
‘At a time like this, you need a reliable friend.’
‘I’m happy to lend my assistance,’ said Nicholas. ‘I do not know the full details of the case but I am persuaded that a terrible injustice has taken place.’
Cleaton’s face clouded. ‘It is monstrous!’ he declared. ‘Gerard Quilter was the most inoffensive of men. He would not kill a fly, still less a human being. Those who sent him to the gallows committed a heinous crime and they must answer for it.’ His manner softened as he appraised Nicholas. ‘So you are the famous book holder, are you? I have oftentimes been in the gallery at the Queen’s Head to watch the company at work. They are always well-drilled.’
Nicholas was modest. ‘That is Master Firethorn’s doing rather than mine.’
‘Do not listen to him,’ said Quilter. ‘Nick is the true power behind the throne. If a play runs smoothly, it is usually because of his control behind the scenes. That reminds me,’ he added, turning to his friend. ‘How did
Black Antonio
fare this afternoon?’
‘Very poorly, Frank.’
‘I am surprised to hear that,’ said Cleaton. ‘When I last saw the piece, it was acted with a vigour that set my old heart racing. What was amiss today?’
‘The actors’ minds were elsewhere,’ explained Nicholas. ‘They were slow and lacklustre. The audience let them know it. We rallied towards the end but, in truth, it was not an occasion in which we could take pride.’
The performance had, in fact, verged on chaos but Lawrence Firethorn had saved the day with his brilliant account of the main character. Alone of the other actors, Edmund Hoode had managed to shine in a supporting role, attesting his excellence on the eve of his departure and reminding everyone of what they would be losing when he went. Nicholas had stayed long enough to see everything cleared away before joining Quilter at the lawyer’s office. He warmed to Cleaton on sight. The man had a bristling intelligence.
‘Enquiries have been made,’ said the lawyer, reaching for a document on his table. ‘I have spent the whole day asking questions and chasing down the answers like a dog after a rabbit. We have made progress, gentlemen.’
‘Good,’ said Quilter.
‘What have you found out, sir?’ asked Nicholas.
Cleaton read from the paper before him. ‘Firstly, that a certain Adam Haygarth became a justice of the peace as a result of the direct intercession of Sir Eliard Slaney. There’s no doubting it. Haygarth is Sir Eliard’s creature in every way.’
‘Then he must have told him about the new evidence that came forward.’
‘Yes, Nick,’ said Quilter, ‘and thereby prompted the murder of Moll Comfrey. The man is beneath contempt. He ran to his master like the cur he is. What hope have we
for justice if rogues such as Adam Haygarth administer it?’
‘Not everyone in the law is so devoid of honesty,’ promised Cleaton. ‘There are still a few of us who believe in the ideals that brought us to the profession. One of those ideals is to root out injustice wherever we find it and there is no more appalling example of it than here. But there’s more,’ he went on, looking down again. ‘Haygarth is also a friend of Bevis Millburne, close enough to be invited to his wedding, I am told. And he must be acquainted with Cyril Paramore too, because the latter works with Sir Eliard at all times.’
‘In short,’ said Nicholas, ‘all four men are confederates.’
‘So it would appear.’
‘Your enquiries prove it beyond any contention, Master Cleaton.’
‘True, sir,’ replied the lawyer. ‘I’ve unearthed several links between the four of them. What I cannot prove as yet, however, is that they were instruments in the death of Frank’s father.’
‘They were!’ asserted Quilter.
‘I know and I am as eager as you to proclaim it to the world. But the law requires more evidence, Frank. Trial for murder is a most serious business. To overturn a verdict will take much more than we have at our disposal.’
‘Moll Comfrey was the decisive witness,’ said Nicholas. ‘That is why she had to be silenced so abruptly. Sir Eliard Slaney is a ruthless man.’
Cleaton gave them a warning nod. ‘You would do well to remember that. When he becomes aware of what you are doing, your own lives may be at risk.’
‘That will not stop us,’ said Quilter boldly.
‘No,’ said Nicholas, ‘but it does mean that we should be more circumspect, Frank. I was followed home last night and Anne tells me that someone was watching the house earlier. I spy a connection with Sir Eliard.’
‘Everything seems to be connected with him somehow,’ said Cleaton, studying the document in front of him. ‘The paper trail leads directly to his house in Bishopsgate.’
He listed all that he had found out about the relationship between Sir Eliard Slaney and the other three men. Nicholas and Quilter were duly impressed with the amount of information he had gathered in such a short time. There was, however, a significant omission.
‘What did you learn about Vincent Webbe?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Precious little, I fear,’ replied the lawyer. ‘My energies were taken up with the enquiries I made in other directions. All that I discovered about Master Webbe is where his widow now lives.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘It is not the most salubrious part of London.’
Quilter was positive. ‘Wherever it is, I’ll visit her.’
‘No, Frank,’ said Nicholas. ‘This is work for me. Vincent Webbe hated your father. The name of Quilter will bar the door against you. Let me call on the widow. We’ll go first to the fair to seek out Lightfoot, then I’ll go on to speak to the lady. She’ll not suspect me. I’ll say I was a friend of her husband. Then I’ll draw her out. Leave her to me, Frank,’ he insisted. ‘I’ll find out much more on my own.’
When the visitor gave her name, Avice Radley’s surprise turned to incredulity. The last person she expected to come to her house was Margery Firethorn. During the social niceties, they weighed each other up. Margery was struck by the other’s handsome features and by her rich attire. By the same token, Avice Radley was impressed by her comely appearance. Margery’s crimson gown had actually been donated to the company and been worn by one of the female characters in a number of plays but it was far more striking on its present owner. A mutual respect was established between the two women at once. Both had great self-possession. As she took her seat, Margery knew that she would have to use reason instead of bluster against her hostess.
‘I do not need to tell you what has brought me here,’ she began. ‘Edmund Hoode is a good friend of mine and I would hate to see him abandon the company.’
‘Save your breath,’ said Avice politely. ‘Edmund’s future has been decided.’
‘In so short a time?’
‘The moment we met, I knew that I wanted to marry him.’
Margery smiled appreciatively. ‘I can see why he feels the same about you, Mistress Radley. But must marriage and the playhouse be worlds apart? Why cannot Edmund enjoy both?’
‘Because he has no wish to do so.’
‘Have you given him the choice?’
‘That is a private matter.’
‘Not when it affects the lives of so many others, my husband among them.’
‘Master Firethorn has already made that point to me.’
‘It can bear repetition.’
‘I think not,’ said Avice. ‘It is good of you to call but I have to say I think less of Master Firethorn for delegating this work to his wife. Because he failed to prevail upon me himself, he has sent you to approach me afresh.’
‘That is not the case at all,’ retorted Margery. ‘I come strictly of my own volition. Were Lawrence to hear of this visit, he would be exceedingly angry. I am not allowed to meddle in the affairs of Westfield’s Men.’
‘Then why do you do so?’
‘Because the quality of their work is at stake.’
‘There are other playwrights in London.’
‘None so fruitful as Edmund Hoode.’
‘What of young Lucius Kindell?’ asked Avice. ‘Edmund speaks well of him.’
‘And so he should, Mistress Radley. They worked together on
The Insatiate Duke
and Lucius has written two tragedies of his own. His time will surely come,’ said Margery, ‘but he is no substitute for the master himself.’
‘Other companies have no difficulty in finding plays. Look at Banbury’s Men. They are always announcing the performance of a new work.’
‘Yes,’ argued Margery, ‘and as soon as they find a talented author, they bind him hand and foot with contracts so that he can write for nobody but them. Banbury’s Men have tried to lure Edmund away time and again. Has he told you that?’
‘Naturally. We have no secrets from each other.’
‘Then you will know how much joy and satisfaction he gets from his work.’
‘The joy has gone, Mistress Firethorn,’ said the other sadly, ‘and the satisfaction has fallen away. Edmund seeks new pleasures. I thank God that he has chosen to do so exclusively in my company.’
Margery could see that she was making little impact. Avice Radley was not susceptible to any form of persuasion. There was a quiet certainty about her that was forbidding. Margery decided to change her tack.
‘I must thank you for one thing,’ she said effusively.
‘Thank me?’
‘You have brought some happiness into Edmund’s life at long last. He has been led such a merry dance by Cupid in the past that we feared he might perish from unrequited love.’ She smiled benignly. ‘It is heartening to see that he has finally found someone who understands his true worth.’
‘I adore him,’ said Avice quietly. ‘He is a complete man to me.’
‘What first drew your attention to him?’
‘His plays. When I saw
The Merchant of Calais
, I was captivated. It had such a keen understanding of human nature. And such sublime verse,’ she went on. ‘I went home that afternoon with my head spinning.’
‘What else have you seen of Edmund’s?’
‘Almost everything that he has written. I watched in wonder until I felt compelled to send him a letter of
appreciation. From that single action, so foreign to my character, all else has flowed.’
‘When you enjoyed his work so much, why prevent others from like pleasure?’
‘But that is not what I am doing,’ Avice reminded her. ‘Those same dramas that delighted me are the property of Westfield’s Men. They can be performed whenever Master Firethorn chooses. Edmund bequeaths them with his blessing.’
‘And lays down his pen for good.’
‘No, Mistress Firethorn. He wishes to employ it in a worthier cause. Henceforth, he will devote himself to sonnets and shun the cruder arts of the playhouse.’
‘It was those cruder arts that enslaved
you
,’ said Margery pointedly.
Avice Radley acknowledged the fact with a smile. She admired Margery for what she was trying to do and touched by her obvious fondness for Edmund Hoode. But that did not sway her in the least. She sought to give her visitor an explanation.
‘When did you meet Lawrence Firethorn?’ she asked.
‘Many years ago.’
‘Can you recall the moment when you first set eyes on him?’