‘Avaunt! Begone! Take your leprous visage away!’
‘I have come on an errand of mercy.’
‘Take mercy on me and go as fast as you may!’
‘This is no kind of welcome, Margery.’
‘It is the warmest you will get, sir,’ she said. ‘Have you so soon forgot your last visit here when you sewed such discord between man and wife that Lawrence and I have barely exchanged a civil word since?’
‘That is one reason I came.’
‘To part us asunder even more! Saints in Heaven! You will depopulate the city at this rate. Who can engage in the lawful business of procreation with you standing outside their bedchamber? What woman will submit to her husband’s pleasure if she sees your ghoulish face staring at her over his naked shoulder?’
‘I am here to beg your apology,’ he said.
‘Do so from a further distance, sir. Stand off a mile or more and I’ll let you grovel all you wish.’
She tried to close the front door but he stopped her.
‘Please do not turn me away!’
‘Be grateful I do not set the dogs on you!’
‘I am desperate, Margery.’
‘Shift your desperation to another place, for we’ll have none of it. Though it be the Sabbath, I’ll use some darker language to send you on your way, if you dare to linger.’
‘I must come in!’
‘Go ruin another marriage instead.’
‘I implore you!’
‘You do so in vain,’ she said. ‘Lawrence is not within. Since you made converse with his wife impossible, he has taken himself off with his fellows.’
‘But it is you I wish to see.’
‘Wait till I fetch a broom and you will see me at my best. For I can beat a man black and blue within a minute.’
Seizing his cue, Hoode flung himself to the ground in an attitude of contrition.
‘Beat me all you wish!’ he invited. ‘I deserve it, I need it, I invite it. Belabour me at will.’
Margery was taken aback. She looked at him properly for the first time and saw the haggard face and the hollow eyes. Hoode was suffering. She bent down to help him up from her doorstep.
‘What is wrong with you, man?’
‘Admit me and I’ll tell all.’
‘Have you stared at yourself in a mirror today?’
‘I dare not, Margery.’
‘Plague victims look healthier.’
‘Their symptoms are mild compared to mine.’
Concern pushed belligerence aside as Margery brought him into the house and closed the front door. He was shivering all over. She took him into the kitchen and sat him down.
‘What has happened, Edmund?’
‘Armageddon.’
‘Where?’
‘In a lady’s chamber.’
‘Did she reject you?’
‘Worse. She accepted me. Time and again.’
A series of uncontrollable grunts came from outside the door as if a frog with a sense of humour were eavesdropping. Margery darted out to find John Tallis bent double with mirth. She clipped his ear, kicked him on his way, then closed the door firmly behind her. Edmund Hoode’s anguish needed the balm of privacy. A sniggering apprentice would only intensify the playwright’s already unbearable pain.
She sat on the bench beside him and enfolded him in a maternal arm. This was no bold interloper, pounding on the door of her bedchamber. It was the old Edmund Hoode.
‘This tale is for your ears only,’ he insisted.
‘Then it must be worth the hearing.’
‘Lawrence would only mock me cruelly.’
‘He will learn nothing from me. Speak on.’
Hoode needed a minute to summon up his strength before he could embark on his narrative. He was honest. He held nothing back. Margery was attentive and sympathetic. She realised that instant help was needed.
‘When must you see the lady again?’ she asked.
‘This evening at the Unicorn.’
‘Do not go.’
‘That would be ungentlemanly,’ he said. ‘I must go. I owe her that. But I will not submit to another night of seductive exhaustion. My flesh and blood cannot stand it.’
‘Explain that to her.’
‘She would not listen. I know what she would say.’
‘What?’
‘Again!’ he moaned. ‘Again, Edmund, again, again! As if my manhood is a water-wheel that turns and turns with the flow of her passion. Save me, Margery! I drown!’
‘There is only one sure means of rescue, Edmund.’
‘What is that?’
She smiled benignly. ‘You will see.’
***
You have still not told me what took you to Blackfriars.
‘My own folly.’
‘Folly?’
‘Yes, Nick,’ said James Ingram. ‘I thought I knew best. I was convinced that Raphael Parsons was our Laughing Hangman and sought to spy on him. While you were watching the rehearsal, I was hiding up in the gallery.’
‘You sneaked back into the building?’
‘Geoffrey has grown careless. He did not see me.’
Nicholas Bracewell was relieved to learn that Ingram’s presence at Blackfriars had no darker significance. His doubts about his friend were groundless. While Nicholas had a personal reason for hunting the killer of Jonas Applegarth, the actor had a personal reason for catching the man who hanged Cyril Fulbeck. From differing motives, both were searching for the same man.
‘Parsons will no longer bother us,’ said Ingram.
‘True.’
‘Nor will the Chapel Children.’
‘Do not be so sure, James.’
‘Why not?’
‘One manager may have died, but another will soon come to take his place. A private playhouse with a resident company which can stage its work for twelve months of the year. What temptation! It will not be long before a new Raphael Parsons is installed there.’
‘Competing for our audience.’
‘We must take our chances there,’ said Nicholas. ‘We have rivals enough without the children’s companies, but we cannot stop them. Westfield’s Men must find new and more cunning ways to outwit these young thespians.’
They were walking briskly across London Bridge together. Having given sworn statements regarding the killing of Raphael Parsons, the two men were free to leave. They plunged into Bankside and picked their way through its labyrinthine streets. Nicholas stopped outside a house.
‘Whom do we visit here?’ asked Ingram.
‘You go on to another port of call.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes, James. The Clink.’
‘You are sending me to prison?’
‘Only to make an enquiry.’
‘The place is full of debtors and brothel-owners.’
‘Not entirely. The man in whom I am interested is neither. Do you have money about you?’
‘Sufficient. Why?’
‘You’ll need to bribe the prison serjeant.’
After arranging to meet him back in Gracechurch Street, Nicholas gave Ingram his instructions, then sent him on his way. The book holder then tapped on door of the house. When the servant showed him into the parlour, Anne Hendrik got up from her chair with alacrity and embraced him.
‘I prayed that you might come, Nick!’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘It has been such a trying time since we parted.’
‘In what way?’
‘Ambrose Robinson has been here.’
She took him through the events of the previous day and admitted how frightened she had been of the butcher. Nicholas was deeply upset that he had not been there to protect her.
‘Did he bother you at all today?’ he asked.
‘No. The only time I saw him was at Evensong, and that was not for long. Ambrose got up in the middle of the service and stalked out with his face aflame. It was as if he suddenly had an irresistible urge to go somewhere.’
<
br /> ‘He did, Anne.’
‘Where?’
‘To Blackfriars. I was there when he arrived.’
‘At the theatre?’
‘He came looking for his son.’
‘I feared that might happen. Was there a tussle?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘but not with the boy. He ran away from his father. It was Raphael Parsons who tussled with your neighbour and who came off worst. The butcher had armed himself with a meat-cleaver.’
‘Oh, no!’ said Anne in horror. ‘Murder?’
‘One blow was all it took.’
‘What then?’
‘We overpowered him and constables led him away. Master Parsons did not survive for long.’
‘What of Philip? It must have been a terrible experience for him. Such humiliation! His own father!’
‘Fortunately, he did not witness the killing. I made a point of talking at length with him to explain precisely what had happened and to prepare him for what was to come.’
‘Poor child! He has lost everything!’
‘There are gains as well as losses here.’
‘Ambrose is like to be tried and hanged.’
‘Most certainly.’
‘Philip will have to bear that stain.’
‘He has already foreseen that.’
‘Will there be a place in the Chapel Royal for him after this?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Where will he go if they turn him out? This could blight his young life.’
‘There may be salvation yet for him,’ said Nicholas, touching her arm. ‘But I may not tarry. I came simply to give you the tidings before you heard them from a less well-informed source.’
‘I am deeply grateful, Nick. And relieved.’
‘Ambrose Robinson will never pester you again.’
‘Thank heaven!’ she said. ‘And yet, it did not seem like that at first. He helped me. I must not forget that.’ She glanced towards the adjoining premises. ‘Without his loan, I would have struggled to keep the business afloat. That was an act of friendship, whatever else he hoped to gain by it. Was he a good man with a streak of evil in him? Or an evil man with a vein of goodness?’ She shook her head. ‘Had his dear wife lived, we would not even be asking that question.’
‘Too true.’ He moved to the door. ‘But I must go.’
‘Nick…’
‘Yes?’
‘Now that you have remembered where I live, do not pass my house again without calling.’
‘We play at The Rose next week.’
She smiled. ‘Then I will expect you.’
***
Alexander Marwood surveyed the yard of the Queen’s Head with mixed feelings. Instinct told him to sever all connections with Westfield’s Men and thereby liberate himself from the recurring crises which beset the company and the ever present threat of assault upon his nubile daughter by one of the lustful actors. Commonsense whispered a different message in his hairy ear. The troupe paid him a rent and brought in custom. Westfield’s Men also gave his inn a status in the capital which was important to him, and, more decisively, to his wife. The Queen’s Head was recognised as the home of one of the most celebrated theatre companies in London.
Commonsense was still wrestling with instinct when Lawrence Firethorn and Owen Elias sidled up to him. They beamed with delight at a man whom they found unrelievedly loathsome.
‘We need a decision from you,’ said Firethorn.
Marwood grunted, ‘I am thinking, I am thinking.’
‘Is there any way we may aid your thought?’
‘By leaving me alone, Master Firethorn.’
‘You must not delay the verdict any longer. Too much rests on it. Do we play here tomorrow or not?’
‘I do not know, sir.’
‘The company is waiting to be told,’ said Elias. ‘We have lost one performance and would hate to lose another. That would empty your yard for two afternoons next week.’
‘Two?’
‘Yes,’ explained Firethorn. ‘We play at The Rose on Wednesday. There’ll be no crowds thirsting for your ale.’
‘And no ruffians pissing in my stables,’ said the landlord. ‘No lechers ogling my daughter.’
They could see that he was weakening. Firethorn felt that he could handle the negotiations more easily on his own and nudged Elias accordingly. The Welshman moved away and was in time to welcome Nicholas Bracewell as the latter came in through the archway.
‘Nick!’ he called. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I’ll tell you anon,’ said Nicholas, looking across at Marwood. ‘Has our landlord relented yet?’
‘Lawrence is slowly bringing him round.’
‘He must not be rushed. That’s the trick of it.’
‘I tried to help but was shooed away.’
‘Then I’ll borrow you for a weightier purpose.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘I need to hang you, Owen.’
‘Hang me!’
Nicholas laughed at his expression. ‘Come. You’ll find me a gentle executioner.’
He led the way to the storeroom where the dead body had been discovered the previous morning. The noose had been taken away as evidence by the constables, but Nicholas quickly fashioned another out of a length of rope. Elias watched his deft fingers at work.
‘You have done this before, I see.’
‘What you see is a sailor’s hands at work. If you spent as much time at sea as I have, you learn to tie knots of all kinds in a rope.’ He pointed to the floor. ‘Now, Owen. Lie there.’
‘Why?’
‘To please my fancy.’
‘What is this all about?’ grumbled Elias, lowering himself to the floor. ‘Am I the dupe in this little game?’
‘It is no game,’ said Nicholas, placing the noose around his neck. ‘How heavy are you? Half the weight of Jonas?’
‘A third at least. I carried that man home and he was like a ton of iron. A triple Owen Elias.’
‘I’ll make allowances for that. Put your hands inside the rope to stop it cutting into your flesh.’ He flung one end of the rope over the central beam. ‘Are you ready!’
‘Iesu Mawr! He really means to hang me!’
‘Hold on.’
Nicholas pulled on the rope until it tightened around the hands and neck of his friend. He applied what he judged to be the correct pressure but could not move the body from the floor. Even when he wound the rope around his waist to give himself a stronger purchase on it, he could not lift the supine Elias.
‘Thanks, Owen. You may get up now.’
‘Good,’ said the other, tugging at the noose.
‘No, leave that on,’ ordered Nicholas. ‘I want to find another way to kill you.’
‘You’ve tortured me long enough.’
‘One more minute. That’s all it will take.’
‘Be quick about it then.’
‘Stand there and do not move.’
Owen Elias was in the middle of the room. Nicholas moved the workbench until it almost brushed his jerkin. Picking up the mallet from the floor, he mimed a blow to the back of the Welshman’s head, then grabbed him by the collar.
‘Fall gently back.’
‘Are you mad?’
‘Go on. The table will catch you.’
Elias did as he was told and Nicholas guided him so that his back was across the workbench. When he tested the other end of the rope this time, he got more response. By applying some real pressure, he lifted the body into a sitting position. Hands inside the noose, Owen Elias gave a dramatic gurgle and pretended to be choking. Nicholas tossed the rope back over the beam. He then brushed the grains of sawdust from his friend’s buff jerkin.
‘Am I dead?’ asked Elias, removing the noose.
‘Completely. And now I know how he did it.’
‘Who?’
‘The Laughing Hangman.’
‘Do you mind if we get out of here, Nick? I’m starting to feel like his next victim.’
&nb
sp; They returned to the yard and found Firethorn talking volubly to James Ingram. The actor-manager preened himself as the others approached.
‘I have done it, sirs! We play here tomorrow.’
A concerted cheer went up from the others.
‘Marwood was like wax in my hands. Soft and smelly.’
‘But you moulded him into shape,’ said Owen.
They congratulated him profusely. Firethorn wanted to take them all to the taproom to celebrate, but Nicholas was more interested to hear the news from Ingram.
‘Did you find out what I asked?’ he said.
‘I did, Nick. At a price.’
‘A prison sergeant will do nothing without garnish.’
‘I paid up, then came straight back here.’ He turned to Firethorn. ‘Please give my deepest apologies to your wife.’
‘You’ve been to a prison and seen my wife?’
‘No,’ said Ingram. ‘It was on my way back. I did not recognise her until it was too late. She must have thought it rude of me to ignore her. Explain that I was in such a rush to get back here.’
Firethorn was perplexed. ‘Margery is in Shoreditch.’
‘Not this evening.’
‘Where else can she be?’
‘Five minutes away at another inn.’
‘An inn? Here in the city?’
Elias cackled. ‘I spy merriment here.’
‘You must have been mistaken, James,’ said Firethorn.
‘When I passed as close to her as I am to you? It was her. I’d swear that on the Bible.’
‘I’m sure that there is a simple explanation,’ said Nicholas with easy tact. ‘Perhaps she is visiting a friend.’
‘What kind of friend?’ nudged Elias.
‘And why did she make no mention of this to me?’ added Firethorn as his suspicions grew. ‘Was she alone, James?’
‘She was.’
‘And how was she attired?’
‘In her finest apparel.’
‘What was the name of the inn?’
‘I did not mean to put you to choler in this way.’
‘What was the name?’
‘I assumed that you knew Margery was there.’
‘The name!’ demanded Firethorn.
‘It was the Unicorn.’
***
Cecily Gilbourne did not waste much time on the formalities. Romantic dalliance was cast ruthlessly aside in favour of more tangible pleasure. As soon as Edmund Hoode was conducted in to her, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and took him through into the next chamber. He looked down at the bed on which they spent their torrid night together and he blenched. There was no resemblance to the Garden of Eden now. It reminded him of the gruesome rack which he had once beheld in the house of Richard Topcliffe, the master torturer. The bed was an instrument of pain.
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