‘You saw qualities in him that eluded me.’
‘I may be wrong, James. I hope that I am.’
‘He spoke so warmly of Cyril Fulbeck,’ said Ingram, ‘and I can forgive a man most things if he does that. For what it is worth, my judgement is in his favour. I do not believe that Raphael Parsons was involved in this crime.’
‘I delay my verdict on that.’
‘He shook with grief when he talked of the murder.’
‘It is a grief that is not allowed to interfere with his business affairs,’ remarked Nicholas coolly. ‘He may mourn his partner but he has not suspended performances at the Blackfriars as a mark of respect. His company are due to perform again tomorrow, young actors who must themselves be consumed with their own grief and beset by terror. Master Parsons tempers his sorrow with an instinct for gain.’
‘That is strange behaviour.’
‘Strange and unfeeling. What was his profession before he became a theatre manager?’
‘He was a lawyer.’
‘That explains much.’
They finished their drinks, then Nicholas took his leave. He crossed to the table at which Owen Elias was sitting with other members of the company, trading impersonations of the luckless John Tallis. Nicholas waited for the laughter to subside. Crouching beside the Welshman, he plucked his sleeve and kept his voice low.
‘Will you undertake a special task for me?’
‘Willingly, Nick.’
‘Go about it privily.’
‘A secretive assignment? You arouse my curiosity at once. What is it?’
‘The rumour is that Jonas fought a duel.’
‘More than a rumour. I know it to be a fact.’
‘Find out who his opponent was.’
‘Why?’
‘Jonas was attacked last night as we walked home,’ said Nicholas quietly. ‘The ambush may be linked in some way to the duel. We need to recognise the face of the enemy so that we may safeguard Jonas from him.’
‘He made no mention to me of any ambush.’
‘He denies it happened in the same way as he refuses to admit that he was involved in a duel. But I was there when a dagger was thrown at him. Jonas is one of us now. Though he may spurn it, he needs our help.’
‘This is work I’ll readily accept, Nick,’ said Elias with concern. ‘I am grateful you chose me for the task.’
‘You can get closer to him than me.’
‘That is because Jonas and I are birds of the same feather. Roisterers with red blood in our veins. Lovers of life and troubadours of the tavern. We were both born to carouse.’ Elias grinned. ‘I need him alive to buy his share of the ale. Besides, he’s asked me to teach him some Welsh songs. I’ll not let an assassin kill my fellow-chorister.’
‘Then we must find the man before he strikes again.’
‘I’ll about it straight.’ He looked around the taproom. ‘Jonas was here even now. Where is the fellow?’
‘Returned home.’
‘When danger lurks in the streets? He is too careless. Each time he goes abroad, he is at risk. Jonas needs protection.’
‘I arranged it,’ Nicholas assured him. ‘Have no fear. He had a companion on his journey. By now, he will be safely bestowed in his house.’
***
The Maids of Honour had amused Jonas Applegarth for a couple of hours that afternoon, but it also fed his arrogance. He regarded the play as vastly inferior to anything he had written and voiced that opinion loudly in the taproom of the Queen’s Head. Watching one comedy prompted him to work on another. After only one tankard of ale, therefore, he left the inn to waddle back to his house.
When Nathan Curtis fell in beside him, it never occurred to Applegarth that the carpenter had been assigned to act as his bodyguard. He was happy enough to have jocular company on the walk back home, not pausing to wonder for a moment why a man who lived in Bankside was walking in the opposite direction. The sturdy presence of Curtis kept any potential attacker at bay. Once Curtis saw the playwright enter his house, he turned his steps back towards the river. The duty which Nicholas Bracewell had given him was discharged.
Jonas Applegarth clambered up the stairs to the little room at the front of the house. He sat down before a table set under the window and covered in sheets of parchment. After sharpening his pen, he dipped it into the inkwell and wrote with a swift hand. The surge of creativity kept him bent over the table for an hour. Evening shadows obliged him to light a candle and he used its flame to read what he had written. Pleased with his progress, he took up his pen once more.
Hugh Naismith watched it all from the cover of a fetid lane opposite the house. While the actor stood in a stinking quagmire, the playwright sat in comfort in his window as he created a new theatrical gem to set before the playgoers of London. Naismith spat with disgust. The difference in their stations rankled. He was cast into the wilderness by a man whose career was now flourishing. It was unjust.
The sight of Jonas Applegarth made his rage smoulder. As he breathed in the foul air, he contemplated the various ways in which he could kill his enemy, dwelling longest on those which inflicted the greatest pain and humiliation.
***
Nicholas Bracewell approached the house from the far end of the street so that he did not have to walk past the premises owned by Ambrose Robinson. It irked him that since Anne Hendrik stepped back into his life, he had not yet managed to have a proper conversation alone with her.
When the servant opened the door to him, Nicholas heard voices within and feared that the truculent neighbour was already there, but the visitor was in fact a good friend.
‘It is wonderful to see you again, Master Bracewell!’
‘Thank you, Preben.’
‘We have missed you in Bankside.’
‘I lodge north of the river now.’
‘That is our loss.’
Preben van Loew was the senior hatmaker in the business which Anne Hendrik had inherited from her late husband and which she managed in the adjoining building. A spectral figure in a black skull-cap, the old Dutchman embraced Nicholas warmly before quitting the house. Anne herself waited until they were alone in the parlour before she gave him her welcome.
‘This is a lovely surprise, Nick!’
‘Do I call at an inconvenient hour?’
Her answer came in the form of a light kiss on the cheek. He wanted to enfold her in his arms, but she moved to a seat and gestured for him to sit opposite her. There was a long pause as they simply luxuriated in the pleasure of being together again. Nicholas let a tidal wave of fond memories wash over him. When it passed, he was left with a profound sense of loss and of waste. Why had he walked away from a house which had given him so much happiness?
‘What did you play this afternoon?’ she asked.
‘The Maids of Honour.’
‘I have seen the piece more than once.’
‘Not quite as it was performed today,’ he said wryly. ‘John Tallis came to grief at a most unfortunate moment. His voice broke as he was about to marry the Prince of Navarre.’
‘Poor boy!’
‘He is a man now.’
Nicholas recounted the incident in full and the two of them were soon sharing a chuckle. It was just like old times when the book holder would repair to his lodging and divert her with tales from the innyard of the Queen’s Head. Each day brought new adventures. A theatre company inhabited a world of extremes. Anne was a kind audience, interested and responsive, always rejoicing in the heady triumphs of Westfield’s Men while sympathising with their numerous disasters. Her bright-eyed curiosity in his work was one of the things that he missed most.
‘How goes it with you?’ he asked softly.
‘The business fares well.’
‘Good.’
/>
‘We are to take on a new apprentice.’
‘Preben will teach him his trade.’
‘I have learnt much from him myself.’
Nicholas nodded. ‘And the house?’
‘What about it?’
‘Do you have a lodger here?’
‘That is my affair,’ she said with a note of gentle reprimand. ‘As it happens, there is nobody here at the moment, but that situation may change.’ She looked at him with a cautious affection. ‘Why did you come?’
‘To see you.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘My own pleasure. Do I need a larger reason?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not when that pleasure is mutual.’
She met his gaze and Nicholas thought of a dozen compliments he wished to pay. All of them had to be held back because there was now an obstacle between them. Until the intrusive figure of Ambrose Robinson were removed, he did not feel able to express his true feelings to her.
‘A peculiar visitor called on me this morning,’ he said.
‘Who might that be?’
‘Raphael Parsons.’
‘Peculiar, indeed! Why did he come?’
‘To ascertain the facts about the discovery of Cyril Fulbeck’s corpse. Master Parsons had already questioned James Ingram on the matter. This morning, it was my turn.’
‘Is he the beast that he is reputed to be?’
‘Far from it, Anne.’
‘Maligned by report, then?’
‘Not entirely,’ said Nicholas. ‘He is a lawyer by training. He knows what to hide and what to show. Like most lawyers, he has the touch of an actor about him. I found him pleasant enough and remarkably candid. The Chapel Children no doubt see aspects of him that were concealed from me.’
‘They loathe him.’
‘So I am told.’
‘You saw the letters written by Philip Robinson.’
‘I did, Anne.’
‘They speak of a cruel master, who makes them work hard and who beats them into submission if they try to disobey. Philip is more or less a prisoner there.’
‘That is not what Master Parsons says.’
‘Oh?’
‘He claims that the boy is very happy at Blackfriars.’
‘Happy? It is one long ordeal for Philip!’
‘So his father alleges.’
‘You read the boy’s own testimony.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Nicholas. ‘That is why I found Master Parsons’s denial surprising. Why does it contradict the lad’s version of events so completely?’
‘The man must be lying.’
‘That was not my impression.’
‘What other explanation can there be?’
Nicholas let her question hang in the air for a moment.
‘How well do you know Philip?’ he said at length.
‘Reasonably well. He lived but a step away from here.’
‘Did you see much of him?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He was a quiet boy. Always polite but rather diffident. And very lonely after his mother’s sad death. Philip was almost invisible. Until Sundays, that is.’
‘Sundays?’
‘When he sang in the choir. He came alive then. I have never seen a child take such a delight in singing the praises of God. His little face would light up with joy.’
‘Does he not have that same joy in the Chapel Royal?’
‘I fear not.’
‘What chorister would not relish the opportunity of singing before Her Majesty?’
‘His pleasure is marred by the misery he endures at the Blackfriars Theatre, where he is forced to be an actor.’
‘By Raphael Parsons.’
‘Even so. Philip’s father has told you all.’
‘Has he?’
She grew defensive. ‘Of course. Do you doubt Ambrose?’
‘Not if you can vouch for him.’
‘I can, Nick.’
‘I see.’ He felt a flicker of jealousy. ‘You and he seem well acquainted.’
‘He is a neighbour and a friend.’
‘Does he have no closer hold on you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nathan Curtis has observed you in church together.’
‘So that is it!’ she said, stiffening. ‘You have set your carpenter to spy on us.’
‘Not at all, Anne. He vouchsafed the information.’
‘In answer to your prompting.’
‘I simply wondered if he knew Ambrose Robinson.’
‘This is unworthy of you, Nick.’
‘If I am engaged to help the man, I am entitled to know as much about him as I can. Nathan’s opinion of your friend was helpful. It confirms my own impression.’
‘You do not like Ambrose, I know that.’
‘My concern is that you do, Anne. Sufficient to walk to church with him on a Sunday and to kneel beside him.’
‘That is my choice.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes!’ she said, rising angrily from her seat. ‘If you have come to turn me against Ambrose, you have come in vain. I live my own life, Nick, and you are no longer part of it. I am grateful to you for the help you have offered, but it does not give you the right to meddle in my private affairs.’
‘I do it out of affection.’
‘Then express that affection in a more seemly way.’
‘Anne…’
He got up and reached out for her, but she moved away. There was an awkward pause. Before he could frame an apology into words, there was a loud knock on the door. The servant answered it and Ambrose Robinson came blundering in. His face was puce with indignation.
‘Fresh tidings from Blackfriars? Why was I not called?’
‘I came to speak with Anne,’ explained Nicholas.
‘Philip is my son. I have prior claim on any news.’
‘How did you know that I was here?’
‘I met with Preben van Loew in the street,’ said the butcher. ‘He told me that you were here. What has happened? I demand to know.’
‘Can you not first offer my guest a polite greeting?’ chided Anne. ‘You burst in here with improper haste, Ambrose. Remember where you are.’
‘I do, I do,’ he whined, instantly repentant. ‘Forgive my unmannerly behaviour, Anne. My anxiety over Philip robs me of my wits yet again.’ He took a deep breath and turned back to Nicholas. ‘Please allay my concern. What has happened?’
‘I spoke with Raphael Parsons.’
‘Did you insist on the release of my son?’
‘I raised the topic with him.’
‘What was his answer? How did that snake reply?’
‘He told me that your son was content to perform on the stage at the Blackfriars Theatre. The boy has talent as an actor. He is keen to develop it.’
‘Lies! Deception! Trickery!’
‘That is all Master Parsons would say on the subject.’
‘Falsehood!’
‘Lower your voice!’ urged Anne.
‘Why did you not take hold of the rogue and beat the truth out of him?’
‘He came to discuss the murder of Cyril Fulbeck,’ said Nicholas firmly. ‘It weighs heavily upon him. Set against the death of the Master of the Chapel, the fate of one chorister was an irrelevance.’
‘It is not an irrelevance to me, sir!’
‘I will try to pursue the matter with him.’
‘Parsons is an arrant knave,’ said Robinson. ‘I should have done what a father’s love told me to do at the very start. Attend a performance at Blackfriars and snatch Philip off the stage.’
‘That would be madness,’ argued Anne.
; ‘I want my son back home with me.’
‘Then achieve that end by peaceful means. Take him away by force and the law will descend on you with such severity that you’d lose both Philip and your own freedom.’
‘Anne counsels well,’ added Nicholas. ‘What use are you to the boy if you’re fretting away in prison? I’ll speak with Master Parsons again and use what persuasion I may. In the meantime, you must learn patience.’
Robinson’s fury seemed to drain away. Face ashen and shoulders dropping, he stood there in silent bewilderment. He looked so wounded and defenceless that Anne lay a hand on his arm, like a mother comforting a hurt child. The gesture annoyed Nicholas but it had a different effect on the butcher.
It only served to ignite the spirit of vengeance until it glinted in his eyes. Taking her by the hand, Robinson led Anne gently out of the room and closed the door behind her so that he could speak to Nicholas alone. There was no ranting this time, no bluster and arm-waving, only a quiet and quite eerie intensity.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Try once more, Nick. Work within the law. Use reason and supplication to restore my son to me.’ His jaw tightened. ‘But if you fail, if they keep Philip locked up, if they continue to spread malicious lies about him wanting to stay there, I’ll seek Raphael Parsons out and play a part for him myself.’
‘A part?’
‘The Laughing Hangman.’
‘Keep well away from Blackfriars.’
‘That is what Anne advises,’ he said, ‘and for her sake, I have stayed my hand. But not for much longer. Unless Philip comes home to me soon, I’ll hang Raphael Parsons by the neck from the tallest building in London and I’ll laugh until my sides burst.’
The threat was a serious one.
Chapter Seven
The Elephant was a large, low, sprawling inn, famed for its strong ale and unflagging hospitality. It stood near near The Curtain, one of the two theatres in Shoreditch which brought the citizens of London streaming out through Bishopsgate in search of entertainment. Banbury’s Men, the resident company at The Curtain, used the inn as a place to celebrate their frequent successes or to drown their sorrows in the wake of occasional abysmal failures. When Owen Elias arrived at the Elephant that evening, the boisterous atmosphere told him that celebration was in order. Banbury’s Men were basking in the triumph of their new play, The Fatal Dowry, performed that afternoon to general acclaim.
The Laughing Hangman Page 11