‘I’ll confess to the crime of dishonesty but no more.’
‘Your dishonesty is obvious enough,’ said Firethorn. ‘It’s brought fearsome retribution down upon us. If it was an assault on your person, I could understand it but it’s The Malevolent Comedy that’s under attack and we pay a heavy toll as a result.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Nicholas. ‘Because of your play, Hal Bridger is already dead and buried. And now, Dick Honeydew has been kidnapped. Be warned of this,’ he went on, fire pulsing in his veins, ‘if anything happens to Dick, I’ll come looking for you with a sword.’
Richard Honeydew was terrified. Bound and gagged, he was locked in a disused stable, lying on the vestigial remains of straw and watching a rat emerge inquisitively from a drain. The place was dank and fetid. Fingers of light poked in through the holes in the timber. Cobwebs abounded. The irony was that he was so close to a main thoroughfare. He could hear many people nearby and pick out the sound of passing horses and the occasional cart. Yet it was impossible for him to cry for help. When he had been attacked in the churchyard, he had been taken completely by surprise. All that he could do was to wriggle and protest. Honeydew’s resistance had been short-lived. The man carrying him had let the boy feel the point of his dagger, threatening to stab him if he struggled or shouted any more. Honeydew had obeyed so his kidnap aroused no suspicion in the street. It looked as if the man were carrying a bundle of clothing over his shoulder.
They had not gone far so were still within the city walls. But their location was a mystery because Honeydew had no idea in which direction he had been taken. Covered by the cloak, he had seen nothing and heard very little. All that he knew for certain was the beautiful young lady with the warm smile had deceived him, and that his kidnapper was strong and determined. He also suspected that he was the man responsible for Hal Bridger’s death during the play. That added an extra dimension of horror to his predicament.
He schooled himself to stay calm so that he could think clearly. The disappearance of the rat was a relief. Unable to defend himself, the boy had been in fear of an attack but the animal had merely sniffed at his feet before scurrying off. Westfield’s Men would look for him. He knew that. As soon as they became aware of his absence, Nicholas Bracewell would organise a thorough search but Honeydew did not have much hope of being found. His kidnappers had chosen his prison with care. He could be kept there indefinitely.
Honeydew began to tremble all over. Fear for his own safety was uppermost in his mind but he was also worried about the company. He was letting them down. Without him, The Malevolent Comedy could not possibly be performed at the Queen’s Head and he felt sure that that was why he had been seized. It meant that they intended to hold him there all night and all of the following day. Why release him then, if they wanted to keep the play off the stage? Honeydew could be there all week.
There was one way to ensure that Saul Hibbert’s play was never again presented, and that was to kill the boy apprentice who played the part of Mistress Malevole. A replacement could be found but Firethorn would not even consider it. The taint of a second murder would be too much for him and the superstitious actors. The play would vanish from the stage. Honeydew wondered if his kidnappers realised that. He trembled more violently. The rat poked its head out of the drain again. The boy closed his eyes in prayer.
Every available man was involved in the search. Nicholas Bracewell took control and sent them off in small groups. The first quartet was dispatched to the churchyard itself and told to stop passers-by, asking them if they had seen someone being carried away earlier on. Others combed all the side streets in the vicinity of the church, looking for clues, questioning anybody they met. George Dart was sent off to fetch Edmund Hoode, who would be deeply upset if he was excluded from the hunt. Lawrence Firethorn, Barnaby Gill and Francis Quilter all had horses so they could conduct their search from the saddle.
At his own insistence, Leonard was also involved, risking the landlord’s wrath to help in tracking down the missing boy. Nicholas went with him because Leonard was the only person who had met the man and woman presumed to have been the kidnappers. He could identify them. Owen Elias made up the trio, wearing his sword and yearning for a chance to use it against the kidnappers.
‘Saul Hibbert should be here as well,’ said Elias.
‘Hatfield,’ corrected Nicholas. ‘His name is Paul Hatfield.’
‘I don’t care if his name is Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon. He should be here to help.’
‘He’d be more of a hindrance, Owen.’
‘Do you think he told you the truth?’
‘Part of it.’
‘What did he leave out?’
‘Far too much.’
‘He has sworn enemies, after all,’ said the Welshman, ‘that’s clear. What puzzles me is why they attack his play and not him. If they’ll go to the lengths of poisoning someone, why not pour it down his throat?’
‘Because that would let him escape too easily.’
‘Easily? I’d hardly call Hal’s death throes easy.’
‘They want to keep him alive to suffer,’ said Nicholas. ‘We know how much this play means to its author. He’s pinned everything on its success. Somebody is set on taking that success away from him.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know and I’m not sure that he knows.’
‘In his position, I’d know at once who the culprits were.’
‘That’s because you have many friends and few enemies, Owen. It’s the other way round with Master Hibbert, or Hatfield, or whatever his real name is. Few friends and so many enemies to choose from that it’s impossible to know where to start.’
‘I’d start with Rosamund, Chloe and Eleanor.’
‘He swears it must be someone else.’
‘A woman scorned can become a wild virago,’ said Elias, soulfully. ‘I can tell you that. Even the softest of them can turn termagant in a second. Last year, one such meek and mild lady tried to deprive me of something I hold most dear and send my singing voice much higher.’
‘Lead a more wholesome life.’
‘And lose all the excitement? That I’ll never do, Nick.’
They walked on up Gracechurch Street until they saw Edmund Hoode, running towards them with George Dart beside him. The two newcomers were panting for breath.
‘Have you found him yet?’ asked Hoode.
‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘There’s no sign.’
‘This play will be the death of us.’
‘As long as it’s not the death of Dick Honeydew.’
‘I think we should burn the prompt book,’ Elias put in. ‘The sooner The Malevolent Comedy goes up in smoke, the better.’
‘I’d rather put the torch to its author,’ said Hoode. ‘I hate to say it of a fellow playwright but he must go. He’s like the seven plagues of Egypt all in one.’
‘Forget him for the time being,’ urged Nicholas. ‘The only person we need to think about now is Dick Honeydew. He’s the youngest of us and the one least able to look after himself.’
Elias nodded. ‘We’ve been hit at our weakest point,’ he said. Putting back his head, he roared his question to the bustling street. ‘Where are you, Dick?’
Richard Honeydew did not hear him. There were so many competing noises filling his ears and he was, in any case, too far away from Owen Elias to catch the slightest sound of his question. The gag around his mouth prevented him from giving an answer to anyone and the ropes were starting to dig into his wrists, arms and legs. Honeydew was in great discomfort. Propped up against a wall, he was aching in every limb. When he heard footsteps approaching, he tensed himself, afraid that his kidnapper was returning to kill him.
A rusty bolt was drawn back on the top half of the door and it was opened a few inches. Someone looked in to check that he was still there. Minutes seemed to pass before the lower half of the stable door was unbolted. Honeydew swallowed hard and tried not to show the dread that was gnawing away at
his stomach. The door opened and the young woman he had met in the churchyard stepped inside with a cup of water. She looked sternly down at him.
‘If I give you this to drink,’ she cautioned, ‘you must promise not to cry out. Do you understand?’ He nodded obediently. ‘Nobody would hear you but we’d have to punish you hard. Do you want to be punished?’ He shook his head. ‘Sit still while I undo this.’
Putting the cup down, she used both hands to untie the gag and remove it. Honeydew gave a gasp of relief and coughed. She held the cup to his mouth. The water was cold and refreshing. He sipped it greedily. When he had drunk it all, she used the gag to wipe away the moisture around his mouth. It was a gesture of almost maternal kindness. Yet the woman seemed far from kind. He could not believe that someone so beautiful could also look so hard-faced and forbidding.
‘Where am I?’ he asked.
‘Where your friends cannot find you.’
‘How long will you keep me here?’
‘We shall see.’
‘Who are you?’
‘The important thing is who you are,’ she said, coldly. ‘Mistress Malevole. You do not look so cruel and cunning now, do you?’
‘Why do you hate me so?’
‘I only hate what you represent, Richard.’
He was surprised. ‘You know my name?’
‘Your name and your significance to Westfield’s Men.’
‘They’ll come after you for this,’ he said, bravely. ‘Let me go or Nick Bracewell and the others will follow you to the ends of the earth until they catch you.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of this book holder of yours.’
‘He’ll find you somehow.’
‘He will not get the chance.’
‘Will you hurt me?’
‘Not if you do as we tell you.’
‘Must I stay here all night?’ he bleated.
‘You’ll do what we decide.’
‘Who was that man in the churchyard?’
‘You ask too many questions, Richard Honeydew.’
‘Why did he say that he’d kill me?’
She gave no reply. Instead, she tied the gag back in position and picked up the cup. After glancing round, she went out again and bolted both halves of the door after her. Honeydew was alone again. He was to be imprisoned all night, far away from the house he knew and the friends he loved. It was getting colder. He fought back tears.
Bernice Opie was unable to keep the news to herself. After reading the sonnet dozens of times, she felt such an upsurge of love inside her that it could not be contained. Her joy had to be shared. She found her sister in the parlour, still reading a book and lost in a world of contemplation. Bernice came up behind her and snatched the book from her hands. Ursula was outraged. She jumped up from her chair.
‘Give that back to me, Bernice,’ she demanded.
‘Not until you hear what I’ve been reading.’
‘That book is mine.’
‘You shall have it in a moment,’ said Bernice. ‘First, listen to my tidings. I’ve received a declaration of love, Ursula.’
‘What?’
‘A poem was delivered to the house earlier. It’s a sonnet in praise of me and it has made my head spin.’
‘I can see that,’ said Ursula. ‘Who wrote this poem?’
‘Master Hoode. There’s no name given but it has to be him.’
‘Are you sure of this, Bernice?’
‘Who else could it be?’ She handed the scroll to her sister. ‘Read it for yourself. He calls me his opal and plays upon my name.’
Frowning with concentration, Ursula read the sonnet, taking more notice of its artful construction than of anything else. There were clear hints that it was, in fact, addressed to her but she discerned none of them, thinking it inconceivable that any man would dedicate such a poem to her. The depth of feeling that was revealed brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. She gave the scroll back to her sister.
‘Is it not the most wonderful thing you ever read?’ asked Bernice.
‘I do not care for some of the rhymes.’
‘Ursula!’
‘And the final couplet is a trifle clumsy.’
‘I’ll not have a word said against it.’ She handed back the book. ‘Be happy for me. Your sister is loved and loves the man in return. Does that not please you?’
‘It might if I could be sure that Master Hoode was the poet.’
‘Look to “Hope’s jewel” and you’ll see it must be him.’
‘It could equally well be Master Jewell,’ warned Ursula. ‘You saw from his song that he has a gift for language.’
‘Master Jewell is far too religious,’ said Bernice with mild disgust. ‘His breast could never harbour such love and devotion. Besides, I gave him no encouragement. “E” must stand for Edmund.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I’ve written a letter to him.’
‘Is that wise, Bernice?’
‘It’s only polite.’
‘You must not be too impulsive. That’s ever your failing.’
‘What would you do, then, in my position?’
‘Nothing at all. I’d simply wait and watch.’
‘Edmund has declared himself. He deserves an answer.’
‘You must at all costs preserve your dignity,’ said Ursula. ‘Our parents brought us up to be honest and open in all our dealings. You should not have a secret correspondence with a man.’
‘Why not? It makes my blood race.’
‘Bernice!’
‘I could never show this poem to Mother or Father. They would both disapprove strongly. I’d not be allowed to see Edmund again.’
‘That would only be for your own good.’
‘How can you say that?’ protested Bernice. ‘I love him.’
‘You hardly know the man.’
‘I know enough to realise that I adore him. When he wrote this,’ she said, holding up the poem, ‘he was reaching out to me. I felt that I had to respond.’
‘No,’ said Ursula. ‘You are too hasty and unguarded. I can see how much this has affected you, but you must restrain yourself. Whatever happens, Bernice, do not send that letter.’
‘That advice comes too late.’
‘Why?’
Her sister smiled dreamily. ‘It’s already on its way.’
The search for the missing apprentice went on for hours but to no avail. Nicholas Bracewell adjourned to the Queen’s Head with Edmund Hoode and Owen Elias so that they could review the situation. They sat around a table in the taproom with a jug of ale to help their deliberations. Their concern for Richard Honeydew was growing.
‘I pray that Dick is still alive,’ sighed Hoode.
‘I feel sure that he is,’ said Nicholas.
‘They did not stop short of murder before, Nick.’
‘No,’ said Elias, anxiously. ‘Look what happened to Hal Bridger. If the same people kidnapped Dick, then he’s in mortal danger.’
‘I prefer to think not, Owen,’ said Nicholas. ‘Had they meant to kill him, they could have done so in the churchyard. The young woman must have won his confidence so that he could be seized unawares by her accomplice. Mrs Bridger saw it happen. Why carry the boy off like that if murder was their intention?’
‘They’d not have struck him there on consecrated ground.’
‘Then we’d have found the body in some alley by now.’
‘How did they know he would visit Hal’s grave?’
‘I think he was followed from here, Owen. The street was far too crowded for them to pounce on him there. They bided their time until he turned into the graveyard.’
‘Villains!’ cried Hoode. ‘And one of them, a young lady.’
‘The two of them deserve hanging.’
‘The three of them,’ said Elias, sourly. ‘Add the name of our new playwright to the list. But for him, none of this would have happened.’
‘They’ve finally found a way to keep his play off the stage,’ said Nicholas. ‘My fear is that they’ll
try to take Dick far away from London to make sure that The Malevolent Comedy is truly finished. That’s why I’ve posted someone at every gate out of the city. If we keep them there, we’ve a chance of finding the boy.’
‘We’ve not had much luck so far, Nick.’
‘No, but we’ve only searched the streets. Now we turn to the inns.’
‘Why?’ asked Hoode.
‘Because that’s where they might be, Edmund. These are strangers to London, remember. Leonard spoke to them both and each had a voice that came a long way from the city. That means they would have found somewhere to stay.’
‘Then it’s probably somewhere close enough to the Queen’s Head to keep an eye on us. ‘
‘Yet no common tavern,’ decided Nicholas. ‘They were well dressed and educated. I fancy that they’ll be used to comfort. They’ll have chosen their accommodation with care.’
‘Then let’s visit every inn that might attract them.’
‘You go with Owen. I’ll partner Leonard. He, at least, has seen the pair. If we divide our strength, we can cover more establishments. Drink up,’ he said. ‘It will grow dark soon.’
‘Teach us the way to go, Nick.’
‘We’ll search all night, if need be,’ vowed Elias.
‘So will I,’ said Nicholas.
‘When Anne is waiting for you in a warm bed?’
‘I’ve sent George Dart to tell her I’ll not be home tonight, and to explain why. Dick Honeydew’s safety obliterates all else.’
‘Then let’s get out there,’ said Elias, rising to his feet.
‘Yes,’ said Hoode, getting up and stroking the hilt of his sword. ‘I’m armed and ready for action. We’ve many crimes to avenge.’
‘We have to find the malefactors first,’ Nicholas told them, ‘and I’ll not rest until that’s done. Dick is here in London somewhere – I feel it. And he’s relying on us to rescue him.’
He got up and glanced across the taproom. Leonard was talking by the counter to one of the servingmen, who handed him a letter. Leonard brought it across to them.
‘It’s for you, Master Hoode,’ he said.
The Malevolent Comedy Page 20