Simon Hawke [Shakespeare and Smythe 02] The Slaying of the Shrew(v2)

by The Slaying of the Shrew (v2. 0) (mobi)

  "Tuck!" said Shakespeare, as soon as he recovered from his initial shock and found his voice. "Angels and ministers of grace defend us! What deviltry is this?"

  "Treachery and murder, Will," Smythe said, looking shaken. "Murder most foul."

  Braithwaite stood there with rapier drawn and held ready, looking both stunned and uncertain. Behind them, Middleton and several others came into the chamber.

  "God's mercy!" Middleton exclaimed, as he beheld the startling tableau before him. "What foul, horrible and loathesome desecration is this ! Seize that man!"

  Several of the servants rushed forward and grabbed hold of the young man, prying him away from Catherine's body. For a moment, he resisted them, holding onto her corpse as if with desperation, then he seemed to resign himself and simply went limp, allowing them to pull him away.

  Middleton's eyes widened even further as he recognized Elizabeth, who had turned around at the sound of Shakespeare's voice and now stared at them all with desolation, her ashen face streaked with tears. "Elizabeth! Dear God in Heaven, what are you doing in here?"

  Her mouth opened as if she were about to reply, but no sound issued forth. It was as if she had lost the power of speech. She could simply find no words.

  "We came in and found her thus," said Smythe, indicating Catherine's body, which now lay sprawled at an awkward angle, her head hanging down, the dagger protruding starkly. " 'Twas Elizabeth who screamed. Catherine was already dead."

  "Is this some ill-conceived notion of a joke?" asked Middleton, his face pale and drawn. "My God, man, what else should she be but dead in her own tomb?"

  "That dagger was not there when she was laid to rest earlier this day," said Smythe.

  "Of course that dagger was not there, you imbecile!" said Middleton, his voice trembling with fury. "Because this… this… foul, perfidious, evil fiend has violated both her tomb and body and thus desecrated my poor dead girl by plunging it within! Oh, horrors! Horrors! What manner of vile beast would mutilate the dead?"

  "Methinks that was not what happened here," said Braithwaite slowly, gazing at the body curiously. He put away his rapier and approached Catherine's corpse. "I truly mean no disrespect by what I am about to say, Master Middleton, but as any hunter would readily attest, blood does not gush forth from a carcass as 'twould from a body freshly slain. And what we have here, I would hazard from my experience at tracking, is blood that seems but freshly spilled within the hour. ‘Twould seem Will Shakespeare spoke the truth in what he told us all tonight. Without a doubt, your daughter was still alive when she was stabbed."

  "Can this be possible?" said Middleton, his voice strained. "Am I to bury the same daughter twice within the same day? Oh, Heaven! Oh, monstrous spite! Then this foul villain has slain her!"

  "No!" Elizabeth shouted. "No, 'tis not true! He loved her!"

  "Then from whence came that dagger buried in her breast?" Middleteon demanded.

  " Tis mine," Mason said, dully.

  "John, no!" Elizabeth shouted.

  "There! You see? Convicted out of his own mouth!" cried Middleton, pointing at him. "Venomous wretch! Who are you, that you would visit such vile treachery upon me? What is your name, villain? Speak!"

  "My name is John Mason," he replied, emptily. "I am… or I have been a groom at Green Oaks. Now… now I am nothing."

  "A groom! A groom, by God! And at good Sir William's estate! Incredible! And you…" He turned his wrathful gaze on Elizabeth. "My best friend's daughter, and I had treated you as if you were my own! Thus do you repay my kindness towards you, by conspiring with this deceitful rogue to seduce my poor daughter and lead her to her ruin! You are as guilty of her death as he is!"

  "Oh, that was base!" Elizabeth said, flushing red with anger. "In your spiteful eagerness to place the blame, you put it everywhere save where it belongs, squarely upon your own shoulders! Had you not tried to force her into a farcical and loveless marriage intended solely to advance your own ambitions, there would have been no need for Catherine to resort to the deception that has led to this sad end! John Mason is no murderer. Look at him! See his face! So utterly undone is he by Catherine's death that he will not even speak out to defend himself! He did not do this awful thing! If you have him arrested for this crime, then the true criminal shall go free! And God Himself shall judge you for it!"

  "Enough!" said Middleton. "You go too far! This is what comes of too much tolerance and too soft a hand with children! You have said quite enough, Elizabeth! Had you been born a man, so help me, I would seek my satisfaction, but as you are a woman, I will leave you to your father. Let him decide what is to be done with you. Henceforth, you are no longer welcome in my house. You may stay the night, until your father comes for you in the morning, but I shall suffer neither your impertinence nor your presence any longer. Now get out of my sight!"

  "Tuck," she said, trying hard to keep her voice from breaking, "would you be so kind as to escort me?"

  "Of course," said Smythe. He glanced at Shakespeare. "Will?"

  Shakespeare nodded and started to walk out with them.

  "Get out, all of you!" shouted Middleton to the others. "Jackals! Get out and let my poor daughter rest in peace!"

  Elizabeth walked quickly with her head held high and Smythe hurried to catch up with her. Shakespeare paused to take a torch from one of the servants, then trotted after them. They quickly outdistanced all the others, who slowly made their way back up the path.

  "Elizabeth…" Smythe said.

  "I am all right," she replied, although her voice was strained. "I am more afraid for John. What shall they do to him?"

  "I do not think they shall do anything, for the present," Smythe replied. "Middleton will likely have him locked up somewhere, until he can be delivered to the authorities in London."

  "I would agree," said Shakespeare. " 'Tis likely that he shall turn him over to Sir William, since he is his servant, and let Sir William make proper dispensation of his fate."

  "But John is innocent!" Elizabeth said. "You know he did not do it, Tuck."

  "In truth, Elizabeth, I do not know it for a certainty. And he did admit the dagger was his own. How else should it have gotten there?"

  "Because he left it there for her! He was concerned that she might be defenseless in the tomb and so we arranged to leave it hidden there for her in case she should awake and feel frightened, or in the event that robbers should come to steal her jewelry."

  "Then why did he not say so?" Shakespeare asked.

  "Because he no longer cares what may become of him!" Elizabeth replied. "He loved Catherine with all his heart! He hated the whole idea of this plan, despised it and said 'twas much too dangerous. He wanted simply to run away with her, instead. And now he blames himself. You saw him! A part of him died along with her! But you know he did not do this, Tuck! You were there with us!"

  "Aye, for a time," said Smythe. "Because I had followed you, I know when you met him at the vault, but I cannot say when he got there. 'Tis possible that he had come there earlier, which means that he could have found Catherine when she awoke, and then slain her for some reason that we do not know."

  "You cannot believe that, surely!"

  "Elizabeth, I do not know John Mason. I have never before laid eyes on him until this night. But while I admit 'tis possible he may have killed her, I do not believe he did."

  "What reasons have you for thinking so?" asked Shakespeare.

  "Several," Smythe replied. "For one thing, I am inclined to believe Elizabeth. While I did not have much speech with Mason, he struck me as a decent sort. I do not think he is a killer. And I have no doubt that he loved Catherine."

  " 'Twould not be the first time a love had led to murder," Shakespeare said.

  "Perhaps not," said Smythe, "but there would have to be some reason for it and there is none here that I can see. The whole plan was designed so that Catherine and he could safely go away together and never be pursued. If his love were so intense and feverish that he mi
ght have gone mad if she were to change her mind at the last moment, then I suppose 'tis possible he might have killed her. Yet, if Catherine were to change her mind, for whatever reason, the time to do so would have been before she took the potion. Otherwise, why take the risk?"

  "Why, indeed?" said Shakespeare. "Your reasoning is sound. Well done. And I agree completely."

  "And there is one more thing that makes me doubt his guilt," said Smythe.

  "And what is that?"

  "The fact that someone tried to kill me tonight while I was following Elizabeth to the vault."

  "What?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "And you never said a thing about it!"

  " 'Twas not the time, I thought. And I wanted to see what would occur between you two."

  "What do you mean someone tried to kill you?" Shakespeare asked, with concern. "How?"

  "With a crossbow," Smythe replied. "And whoever shot that bolt damn near put it through my eye."

  "Good Lord!" said Shakespeare.

  "Nearly killed!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "And you said nothing!"

  "There seemed no reason to say anything about it then. I had thought he saw an opportunity to strike and followed me out from the house, for I heard someone running back toward it after the bolt was shot. Now, however, it occurs to me that whoever shot at me may have been coming back to the house from the tomb, instead."

  "Then would I have not seen him on the path?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Not if he heard you coming and hid until you had passed."

  "I do not understand," Elizabeth said. "Why would someone wish to kill you?"

  "Because I had overheard their plot," said Smythe.

  "What plot? What on Earth are you talking about?"

  "Elizabeth, do you remember when I told you that 'twas I who shouted out to warn you there were others present in the maze that night? There were two men… unfortunately, I never saw them, for there was a hedge between us, but I had overheard them plotting. One of them said to the other that with Catherine out of the way, he would be free to make his move. The plot, it seems, was to impersonate a nobleman and his son, then seek to secure Middle-ton's consent for Blanche's hand in marriage. The prize would be Blanche, herself, and of course, her dowry, which would likely be considerable, especially if Middleton believed that he were dealing with a nobelman. I heard no further, for I had made some noise and gave myself away, whereupon they tried to run me through with their rapiers right through the hedge."

  Elizabeth gave a gasp and stopped, staring at him with alarm. "Then twice someone has tried to kill you!"

  Smythe took her arm and moved her along, not wishing any of the others to catch up and overhear them. "True, they have tried twice, and they may yet try thrice if I cannot unmask them. But… here is my point. I know they were in the maze that night. And now I also know they must have seen me, for they now know who I am, which puts me at a considerable disadvantage. What if they had also overheard what you discussed with Mason? Then they would have known about the plan you made with Catherine. And they would have known that Catherine was not truly dead."

  "But if everyone believed that she were dead, and she was going away with John, then what purpose would be served in killing her?" Elizabeth asked.

  "To divert attention and suspicion from themselves," said Shakespeare.

  "Precisely," Smythe agreed. "We are clearly dealing with coldblooded men who shall stop at nothing to achieve their ends."

  "You must tell Godfrey Middleton about this!"

  "He already knows, Elizabeth. As does Sir William. We have told them both about it and have their charge to do anything we can to help get to the bottom of it."

  "He knows about it?" she replied, with amazement. "Then why in God's name does he blame John?"

  "Because he is distraught, Elizabeth. Give the poor man some consideration. He has had a daughter murdered twice in the same day. And then there is his outrage over John being her lover, and worse yet, being a lowly groom."

  "A neighbor's groom," said Shakespeare. "A neighbor with whom he fancies himself to be in competition."

  "And do not forget John admitted that the dagger stuck in Catherine's breast was his," added Smythe. "Under the circumstances, can anyone blame Middleton for reaching the conclusion that he did? In time, when he has had a chance to recover from this heavy blow, then Middleton shall no doubt see reason and reach the same conclusions that we have. But in the meantime, we must do what we can to find the real killer."

  "And, with any luck, do so without being killed ourselves," Shakespeare added, wryly. "God's wounds, but this has been a day to try a man's soul! Just when I think that things cannot possibly get any worse, they promptly do!"

  "You seem to have had quite a time of it," said Smythe. "You look a sight. What happened?"

  "That fool of a driver wrecked the carriage," Shakespeare replied.

  "And some of your best clothes, it seems."

  "Aye, but that is of no consequence. What plagues me beyond all measure is that if Braithwaite was right, then if the wheel had not come off the carriage and delayed me, I could have returned in time to save Catherine's life."

  "Oh, no, Will! Do not blame yourself for that!" Elizabeth said.

  "Elizabeth is right, Will," said Smythe. "You are no more at fault than she is for helping Catherine, despite what Middleton has said. 'Twas Catherine's own choice to do what she did, as 'twas the killer's choice to murder her. We should not hold ourselves responsible for what others choose to do of their own free will. We can but be responsible for our own actions. Each of us must suffer the slings and arrows of his own outrageous fortune."

  "Gad, Tuck, that was well put! I wish I had said that."

  "Never fear, I am sure you will."

  "Zounds! You dare unpack your wit at my expense? I have half a mind to pay you back in kind!"

  "That would make you a halfwit, then."

  "Villain!"

  "Clod!"

  "Scurvy knave!"

  "Steaming turd!"

  "Rustic mountebank!" "Bad poet!"

  "Oh, that was base! Where is my rapier?"

  "You do not own one."

  "Right. I must make amends at once and buy one at the fair so that I can call you out."

  "You might buy some clothes first, so that you are fit to go out."

  Elizabeth laughed, and then brought her hands up to her head. "Oh, Heaven, that I should find myself able to laugh at such a time as this! How vile must I be?"

  "Without laughter, Elizabeth, we have no saving grace at all and must perforce go mad," said Shakespeare.

  "Thank you, Will. You are a kind soul."

  "I am a damned weary soul. This has been a very long and very trying day."

  "And I have been sent packing, to leave upon the morrow," said Elizabeth. " 'Tis a sad thing to be no longer welcome in this house, and yet, 'tis a house that no longer holds any pleasant memories for me. What do you suppose will happen now?"

  Smythe shook his head. "I am not sure, Elizabeth. A great deal will depend on Middleton and what he chooses to do. And then do not forget that we still have not heard from Sir William, who does not yet know the full story of all that has transpired."

  "The fair was to last three days," said Shakespeare. "Under the circumstances, however, I do not think that anyone would blame our host if he were to cancel the remainder of it."

  "True," Smythe said, "but at the same time, in a peculiar sort of way, nothing has really changed since we first spoke with Master Middleton, has it? I mean that at the time, we had all, except Elizabeth, of course, believed Catherine to be dead. Well, she was not, but now, she is. We also believed her to have been murdered. She was not, but now, she has been. Middleton was grieving for his daughter, yet wanted to see justice done. And now, he is still grieving for his daugher, so… what has changed?"

  "Hmm, I see what you mean," said Shakespeare. " Tis a curious situation, indeed. Our expectations of the situation were unfounded, yet now, we have found them to be true.
Most strange. I cannot imagine how I would respond in Middleton's place. Would I wish to continue with my original plan to find the murderer and get justice, or would I fold under the weight of this new blow and wish to banish everybody from my sight?"

  "Well, only Middleton can answer that," said Smythe. "Elizabeth, you know him best. What do you think he will do now?"

  She shook her head. "Godfrey Middelton, for all his stout and doughy looks, is a strong-minded and most ambitious man. In many respects, Catherine took after him. Their similarity of character was the source of many of their clashes. They were both strong-willed and stubborn. Once she had made up her mind, Catherine would not easily be dissuaded. Her father is no different. He is not the sort of man who would forgive a slight. I cannot imagine that he could forgive the murder of his own daughter."

  "So you believe that he shall stay the course, then, and do everything possible to find the killer?" Smythe said.

  "I cannot think he would do otherwise."

  They were approaching the house now. They glanced behind them and saw torches on the path not far away. The others were returning.

  "There are still things we need to speak of before you must leave in the morning," Smythe said to Elizabeth. "The rain has stopped. Will you walk with us awhile in the garden?"

  "Of course. I am far from eager to retire. I do not think that I shall sleep at all tonight. And I do not really want to be alone right now."

  They reached the courtyard and turned to go around the house, to the opposite side where the garden was, with the maze, thought Smythe, where it all began for him.

  "What of Blanche?" Smythe asked. "What can you tell us about her?"