“They won’t. An understanding exists between Danbye and the Master of Trinity. He has several men claiming to be former employees of his working at the college. You’ll be accepted without question and given the job of bedder.”
“That sounds suspiciously like the same job everyone else thinks I’ve got,” William said wryly. He could only hope he would not be expected to work the first day.
Richard grinned at him. “There is no bed work, not until we’re done, anyway. You’ll be like a servant, cleaning and tidying the scholars’ rooms. Your job will be a simple one. You need only get into Jacob Hobbes’s room and open the window, through which I will enter. After that, you must leave the grounds immediately and return to the inn.”
Open a window? That was to be William’s contribution to the job? Richard might as well do the whole thing himself. “That’s it?” he scoffed. “You behaved as if I am to do something dangerous.”
“It is dangerous. If you are caught helping me—”
“What is dangerous is you climbing through a window in broad daylight,” William said, unimpressed with the plan. “Everyone will see you scrambling in, and that is if you are lucky. If he is on the upper floor, you won’t be able to get in at all. If I can enter easily to open the window, then I can find the list too. No one will question why I am there going through his things if I am to be tidying them.”
“A man died because he wrote that list,” Richard muttered in reply. “Hobbes isn’t likely to leave it lying around. This needs someone with experience, someone who knows where to look.”
“Then why aren’t you applying for the position? Is it beneath you to play a servant?”
Richard gave him a withering look. “I can play a servant, all right, but think how many people have already seen me do it. I played in Cambridge as often as I did Oxford in the last two years, and I am well-known to many of the scholars here. I wouldn’t be surprised if the servants remember me too.”
If only we had the costumes and paints.
William grinned, a new plan forming in his head. They had a razor, and he could surely find a suitable disguise somewhere within the college. They would just have to improvise.
AN HOUR later, he stood in the corner of the college’s bustling kitchen with the steward, a tall, slim man with white hair that needed a cut and an expression that failed to hide his irritation at William’s arrival. He’d probably been pressed into taking on a number of men he didn’t want because they’d previously been employed by Danbye. William did not blame him for his mood.
“You worked for the justice?” the steward asked wearily, having done no more than glance over the letter and inspect the seal.
William shrunk back slightly, hoping to appease him by appearing unthreatening. “I did, sir,” he murmured.
“Why did you leave?”
Realizing that he should have prepared a convincing lie, William simply said, “He’s a good master, but I’d done two years. It was time I moved on.”
The steward glanced at the letter again. “You’re not a local, and he’s given no mention of your background. Where are you from?”
Now William was on surer footing, glad of his heritage because it made the lie come easily. “I’m from Oxford, originally. I worked at Christ Church, and I first came to Cambridge to work in one of the colleges.”
“Really? Well, we are affiliated to Christ Church College, so I can check that,” the steward simpered. He looked like he would enjoy discovering one of Danbye’s men was a liar.
William’s heart sank. It would take the steward weeks to check with the college and he would be long gone by then, but if he’d been playing a longer game, he would have given himself away. It was a blow to his confidence, but it lasted only a moment. He was determined to do better.
The steward handed him over to another servant and disappeared off to more important work.
William was left with a woman who introduced herself as Eleanor. She was attractive—dark-haired with bright blue eyes, full lips, and clear skin. She appeared well proportioned, with ample breasts and skirts to match, and she was a good age, being maybe thirty.
“I’m William.” He gave her his best smile.
“Lovely to meet you, William. You can help me today, and we will set you up with your own rooms tomorrow. Can you read?”
“Yes.”
She looked as if she expected no less. “You’re one of Danbye’s men, aren’t you.” She made it a statement rather than a question. “I’ll fetch you a list of students, and you can arrange to swap rooms with the others if you want to.”
Why he would want to was left unsaid, but William realized Danbye’s spy ring was not as secret as he hoped. The servants knew everything, and William wondered why Danbye didn’t just pay the ones in situ to do the work. Perhaps they had their own loyalties already.
“Now,” she continued, “some advice. These young masters can be trouble. You’re a handsome young thing. Watch yourself with some of the students, and the scholars too.”
William giggled. “You’re telling me they would be more interested in me than a beautiful woman like you? I’m not sure whether or not that’s lucky for me.”
“I’ve got my admirers.” Eleanor chuckled, her eyes dancing merrily. “But you would be surprised at the types we get here.”
“I’ve never heard anything like it,” William teased.
They left the kitchen, and Eleanor gave him a short tour of the building. William noted the exits, hoping he’d worked out correctly which door Richard would be standing behind. He didn’t want to open the wrong one and find himself somewhere he ought not to be seen.
Soon they were walking to the private rooms, and William didn’t have long if he wanted to charm her into leaving him alone on his first day. He had vague ideas of asking to have a go at cleaning by himself so she might inspect the work afterward, but, as ever, he wasn’t sure of the details.
“So, tell me about your admirers,” he said casually as they approached the halls.
When she met his eyes, he made sure he wore a cheeky grin.
“Not much to tell,” she replied, giving him a wink. “Some were better than others.”
“Tell me about the good ones.” She hesitated, so he asked, “How am I supposed to impress you if I don’t know how your other suitors did?”
“You’re far too young to be trying to impress me.” She laughed. “But I do like a verse.”
“Poetry? I don’t know many poems.” That was no lie. Most of William’s reading had been the Bible and the odd chapbook he’d borrowed. He knew verses that were passed around the fire at night, but none suitable for wooing women. Then he remembered the terrible ode he’d seen the previous evening. Hoping she might be charmed by its lack of skill, he said, “Raven-haired mistress. In your eyes, I see only light.”
It did not have the desired effect. Eleanor became pale and whispered, “Who are you? What are you doing here?” She stumbled into a wall, trying to get away from him.
Just his luck to find the raven-haired mistress among every woman in Cambridge. “What?” he asked, hoping he appeared confused and concerned. “I don’t understand? Have I said something I should not?”
She relaxed a little physically, but her manner told William she was still wary of him. “Where did you hear that poem?” she hissed. “How could you know it?”
“I used to work for the justice of the peace, Roger Danbye, just as you were told. I saw the poem on the table in his library and read it one day while I was cleaning. I thought it was good.”
He did not think it worth the ink and paper, but if she was the subject, it might soften her again. Then he allowed a little suspicion into his voice as he asked, “How do you come to know a poem that His Worship keeps? I’ve never seen you there during the day.”
She blushed heavily. “I have never been to Danbye’s home during day or night, don’t you worry about that. I heard it from the lips of the man who wrote it. He was a student her
e.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” William said, dismissing the subject as if it no longer interested him. “The master seemed to know so many students. If you like it, then you should get him to write it down for you.”
“Too late for that,” she murmured, her fear being replaced by sadness. She put a protective hand over her belly and said, “He’s gone, and he won’t be coming back.”
William didn’t press for details, having a fair idea what fate had befallen her lover and half an idea what had befallen her. “You know,” he said quietly as they began to walk again, “Danbye doesn’t care for that poem at all. I could get it for you.”
She stopped abruptly and then carried on, staring straight ahead.
“How?”
“I’d borrow it and then lend it to you. If I forget to get it back from you, well, that’s my fault. He won’t miss it. It’s in a pile of scrap paper… well, I assume it still is. He may have used the back of it for a note by now. If you let me sneak away, I can have it back here to you in an hour, but you must do a favor for me first.”
Now she looked at him. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
He could hear the hope in her voice. She sounded like she would risk a lot for that poem.
It was a fair question, and William wasn’t sure how to put her mind at ease. Eleanor had revealed she knew enough about Danbye’s men to know he wasn’t what he appeared, but that hadn’t worried her when it came to her former lover. Deciding a degree of honesty would win him more trust than another lie, William said, “You have nothing but my word, but I promise I speak from the heart. I will get you that poem if it buys me the smallest assistance. I’m not here to lie to you or trick you. Do you think Danbye would waste his resources on that?”
They reached the end of the corridor and were about to enter the hall of residence where they would begin their work. Eleanor paused at the door, holding it shut. William waited while she decided his fate, watching her weigh up the risk in her mind. It was just a piece of paper, and as time went on, William began to worry he hadn’t offered enough.
Then she asked, “What would you have me do?”
“Nothing that will compromise you,” he promised, disguising his relief with a gentle tone. “I just want directions to a fellow’s room.”
“Who?”
“Jacob Hobbes.”
Eleanor balked, and there was fear again in her lovely blue eyes, but William let her have her dignity and did not try to comfort her. After a moment, she bit her lip and controlled it. “May I ask what interest you have in that gentleman?”
“I have none personally, but I have been asked to pay special attention when cleaning his room.”
She didn’t question by whom, but she did whisper, “You’re too young to cross him on Danbye’s behalf. You will not get the best of him. He is a dangerous man.”
“I can protect myself,” William replied, thinking of Geoffrey’s dagger, which he’d tucked into the back of his hose again that morning.
“He won’t fight you fairly. No weapons, no fists.”
Having already suffered a taste of how unfair these men could be, William didn’t want another false accusation against him. Thankfully he knew he wouldn’t be around long enough for that.
“I am not afraid, and you needn’t be either. Just tell me the room number. That’s no secret, and I will find it out easily enough without your help. You’re doing no wrong.”
“You will get me the poem?”
“I promise.”
She hesitated only a moment more before whispering, “He’s in number twenty-three. He’s lecturing now and will be seeing students at dinner. He will be here all afternoon, so make sure you clean the room this morning.”
William beamed at her. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret this. I will fetch your poem and meet you outside the kitchen just before noon.”
Silently she handed him the keys to the corridor then left him to his work.
William hurried through the door and along to number twenty-three. He gave a brief knock and then let himself into the room.
It was a large, bright space, well ordered but with a lot packed inside. Everything William owned fit into his bag, but this man had stacks of papers on his table, plus a drafting table with yet more papers and instruments, and William counted twelve books on a shelf along the wall. There were also a number of curiosities: animal bones, unusual shells, hideous masks, and terrifying dolls. It was a horrible collection, and as William eyed the simple single pallet bed in the corner, he wondered how Hobbes slept surrounded by it all.
He hoped to find robes and a cap, but there were none hanging. He left the room, locking it behind him, and was thankful to find them two doors down.
A few minutes later, William stepped outside to a long garden where Richard waited, crouched among the bushes. No one else was about, and seeing him, Richard jumped up from his hiding place and hurried to the door.
Richard appeared relieved to see him and was in high spirits. He had a boyish charm without his beard, and William quite liked his new look.
“You took your time,” Richard teased. “I was sure I would take root before you arrived.”
William swatted his arm in jest, finding Richard’s happiness infectious. It was all happening now, and soon the job would be done. They had a lot to be pleased about.
“I’ve got you a scholar’s robes, Hobbes’s plans for the day and the key to his room,” he mock chided. “You could greet me better than that.”
He handed Richard the disguise, and his master was clearly thrilled with his work.
“You clever thing,” Richard said. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“That’s not even the best of it. We have almost an hour to search his room.”
“If we’re still here in an hour, I will weep.”
Richard donned the robes and held out a hand to indicate William should lead the way.
“There is just one thing,” William said, remembering his promise. “Have you got the poem on you?”
“Yes, but let’s keep it safe until we are inside.”
“Good idea. I’ve promised it to a woman who helped me.”
Richard’s good mood disappeared in an instant. Stone-faced, he asked, “You told her our plan?”
“I told her nothing but that I worked for Danbye previously, just as we agreed, and that he has the poem. She knew her lover was connected to the justice in some way or another, and she appeared to believe me. Right now she thinks I have sneaked out to steal it for her.”
Richard frowned, but his face showed concentration rather than anger. “Is she the raven-haired mistress?”
“Who else would want it? I think even less of it now I’ve seen her. She’s far prettier than the poem.”
Richard raised an eyebrow at that comment, and William heard a tinge of jealousy in his voice as he said, “I’ve seen a new side to you these last few days. Not just this nymph. You called the hostess in Cheshunt ‘sport,’ which is fun in itself, but there’s little sweeter than winning the match. Have you a liking for the fairer sex? I’d encourage you to have a taste if you do. Your life will be a lot easier if she pleases you.”
Richard meant well, but William’s life would be no different, no matter how stiff a girl could make him. William’s cock liked many men, but he was only besotted with one. Surely that was the same for any man, no matter where they took their pleasure.
William let him worry just for a moment before he dropped his voice and murmured, “You needn’t worry about that. Unlike your last apprentice, you’ll never taste a girl on my lips.”
He turned to take them back through the door, but Richard caught his arm.
“You were there, weren’t you, in the barn?”
“Close enough. I was outside it. Spying.”
“What else would my lover be doing?” Richard murmured. “Sometimes I think you were put here by God just for me.”
William’s stomach fluttered
the way it had when he first saw Richard on stage. Richard gazed at him with a tenderness William wasn’t used to. For the first time, he wondered if Richard Brasyer—handsome, wonderful, perfect Richard Brasyer—had fallen in love with him.
The look lasted only seconds before Richard was hurrying him out of the garden as if nothing had passed between them. William had to accept that this was not the time nor the place to speak on it further.
Richard walked four paces behind him. When they stepped inside, William fought the urge to turn and look at his master, but focused instead on the job at hand. That wasn’t hard; now Richard was in the college and it was all coming together, William was beginning to enjoy himself.
The same excitement he’d experienced at the bookshop overtook him. He felt brave and clever, and more than anything—despite everything that had happened to him—he felt he had luck on his side.
Soon he was back at Hobbes’s door. He knocked and then let himself inside, glancing around to make sure he was alone. He went straight to the papers on the table, looking up when Richard entered a moment later.
“Excellent. Get to work on the room. If someone finds you in here, it needs to look like you’ve been doing something. You’re new, so you can claim you thought I was Hobbes if we are found in here together.”
William busied himself dusting the collection of oddities. They were filthy, and he guessed the other servants wouldn’t touch them because they were frightened. It didn’t appear Hobbes picked them up often either.
While William cleaned, Richard searched around for a box or small chest but found nothing hidden away. Next he shuffled through the papers on the table, not bothering to replace them neatly, and muttering obscenities under his breath. This was not part of the plan.
William went to the table and rearranged the papers Richard had displaced. “For someone who is supposed to work in secret, you’re very careless,” he said, keeping his tone light, though he was worried.
“You’re supposed to be tidying the room, remember? Neaten it,” Richard muttered.
The First Act Page 19