Kathryn Kramer (31 page)

"What the devil?  Now what are they about?"
Stafford craned his neck for a view of what was going on down below.

"Dear God!"  Alandra exclaimed.  Christopher w
as unaware of Stafford's presence in the audience. He might give himself away. She had to think fast, had to distract his enemy before Stafford got wind of what was going on.

"What is it, girl?"  Lord Stafford reached out  to pull her out of his way
.

In that moment Alandra was inspired.  Taking a step forward
, she feigned a stumble, tipping the basket of oranges as she fell against the haughty nobleman.  Oranges went everywhere, scattering in a myriad of directions.   Most of them were plucked up and confiscated by those of a less-than-honest nature.

"Oh, my oranges! You brute!"  Alandra wailed as loudly as she could.  "Look what you have done! I'm ruined, I am.  'T
is shame, shame on you Lord Stafford!" 

Surely even Burbage's voice could not have carried
as far as Alandra's scolding.  Nearly every head in the gallery turned to get a glimpse of what was going on.  For the moment it seemed to rival the goings-on in the play.

From his position down below
, Nicholas also heard Alandra's shriek and knew in an instant that she meant to warn him, but God rot it all, he had Frizer within his grasp.  He had to make his move now or never have another chance.

"Kempe, Robert, Edwin........quickly!" 

Obeying, they moved like lightning, closing in on Nicholas's prey.

"God's balls, what is this?"  Frizer reached for his knife
.

Nicholas's quick kick, aimed at the groin, thwarted him.  A brutal punch to the jaw followed, then another.  It was Kempe, however, who saved the day.  Not too proud to use less than sporting means to subdue an enemy
, he reached for an empty bottle of ale and broke it over Frizer's head.  With a moan the man sank to the ground.

"Cover his head with your cloak, Edward.  Now!"  Nicholas's command was instantly obeyed.   "Hold him up,"  Nicholas took one side, draping Frizer's left arm over Nicholas's shoulder, Kempe too
k the other, supporting his weight.  "That's right.  Now move towards the outer exit."  Like a six-legged caterpillar, they made their way towards the gate where the admission was taken. 

"Poor old fellow.  Never could hold his ale."  Kempe repeated the phrase as he and Nicholas moved along with their human "baggage".  "Drunk as a wine
-taster he is.  Tut, tut, tut he will miss such a frolicsome play."

From her place in the gallery
, Alandra   watched from the corner of her eye with hammering heart as the "groundlings" and their companion left the inn yard.  All the while she continued her tirade against the man who she insisted had purposefully upended her orange basket. "Oh, I know you fine lords, I do. You wanted to sample one of my oranges for free."

"For the love of God shut up!"  Unnerved that so many pe
ople were staring at them, Stafford hurried to vindicate himself.  "It was an accident!  Besides, you  spilled them yourself, you clumsy little twit.  Oh, what matter?"  Oblivious now to what was happening down below, Stafford reached in his money pouch, thrusting a handful of coins at Alandra.  "Here, take these if it will silence you!"

Alandra made great show of biting each and every coin, as if to ascertain that they were real, then with a wide grin curtsied.  "Thank you, my lord."

It was all she could do to contain her absolute joy.  It had worked.  Christopher had gone about his plan  without being spotted. And she had made a profit from the episode of the spilled oranges. For the moment at least all was well.  Looking hastily over her shoulder to make certain none of Stafford's men were following, she scampered through the crowd.             

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Like a snarling, angry wolf Will Frizer struggled against the ropes that held him tied securely to a chair. "I'll get loose, I will, and when I do I'll slit somebody's gizzard!"  The direction of his gaze targeted Nicholas as the victim.

"I wouldn't be making any threats if I were you."  Nicholas' gray eyes flashed sparks as he poked the point of his sword into his enemy's ribs, just enough to cause a prick of warning

Nicholas tensed his shoulders and clenched his teeth, remembering the exhilaration he had felt when he had looked over Will Kempe's head at the crowd of groundlings and caught sight of Frizer's head bobbing up and down.  It had been like the answer to a prayer knowing his prey was so close at hand.  Raising his arm as if to seek the hawkers in the audience, he had made the signal to the others.  Slowly, they had closed in and with an ease that was nearly frightening had caught Frizer. Now that evil man was his prisoner, and yet far from feeling victorious, Nicholas knew only frustration.  Where did he go to from here?

"You're nothing but gibbet bait, Frizer.  A thief, a hackster, a
hired murderer."

For just a moment the scoundrel was confused as he looked at his accuser.  Though Nicholas had taken off his wig
, he was still in his actor's makeup and padding. None-the-less he was finally recognized.  "'T is you!"

"Aye.  You had thought to sic Stafford's dogs on me, but I evaded their snapping jaws.  The worm has turned, and you are the one who has been cornered.  Now, it's only a matter of time before you are dangling from a rope."

"Hang? Me? Hah!"
Though the growl sounded confident, Will Frizer's face paled for just a moment.  The hideous kind of death suffered on the scaffold was brutally painful, as well he knew. 

"Yes hang!"  Nicholas countered.  The sweetness of hi
s success in capturing the villain was  made bitter by the knowledge that the real culprit was Lord Stafford and not this disgusting, pathetic creature. After all, Nicholas was not certain Frizer had even done the foul deed. But the only way to ferret out the truth was to convince this scoundrel that Nicholas believed he had

"Hang?" For just a moment his blustering faltered and Frizer cunningly pleaded innocence.   "For what?  I  be an honest man."

"Honest!"  Nicholas addressed the small group  gathered in his room to interrogate the prisoner as if to reassure them. "This man is the foremost cutter in all of London.  A man who makes quite a good living selling his villainous services, despite the look of him."             

Alandra stared at the captured murderer and thief, thinking him to be a fearsome sight indeed.  Scars crisscrossed his face, one slicing the muscle of his left eye so that it was frozen in a permanent wink.  His auburn hair w
as long and unkempt, his dun-colored doublet and hosen in need of mending.  By the looks of him it hardly appeared that being a hired killer was profitable.  For just a moment she nearly felt sorry for him, at least until he turned his heated gaze on her.  His eyes revealed an evil, murderous nature.

"I repeat, I be an honest man!"  Again he struggled with his bonds but found them to be much too secure to enable him to escape.

Nicholas snorted in disgust. "So honest that you inhabit darkened alleyways and run with rogues...."

Ignoring Nicholas, Frizer turned to the others.  "You must listen to me kind people. I have done no wrong.  'T
is naught but a misunderstanding."  He seemed to have a hope of convincing the small assemblage that he had been erroneously accused but the murmur of outrage quieted him.  There seemed to be no question as to whose side these men were on. "So, I am not only accused but also found guilty."

There was a mumble as heads were nodded.  Only Heminges seemed disagreeable.  "Now see here, Ch
ristopher!  I don't like this. I don't like this at all.  It could bring the entire countryside down upon our heads."

Seeing that he had at
least one sympathetic ear, Frizer anxiously said,  "Aye,  it will make of you all marked men to so abduct a peaceful man who was but minding his own business."

"Damn you, Heminges!"  Alandra swore angrily before she could even think, yet did not regret her outburst.  She knew what Christopher was trying to do, frighten this evil man into agreeing to testify in his behalf.  "You have not the brains of a simpleton."  Heminges was going to ruin everything. 

"I beg your pardon!"

"Let Christopher handle this," she further admonished.

Alandra is right."  Shakespeare was quick to speak out.  "We all agreed to help Christopher and BiGod that means not interfering in what he thinks must be done."

"But.....?"

"John!  On matters of finance I never argue but on this....."

In the face of Shakespeare's censure Heminges took a step backward. 

Nodding his head in Nicholas' direction, Frizer practically shouted,  "He is the one wanted for murder, gents.  Not I!  There be a price on
his
head.  He murdered one of the Queen's noblemen." 

"Save your lies."  Nicholas was enraged that he, a nobleman and scion of good family, should have to
suffer a thief's condemnation. "They know the true story." His eyes turned to slits of gray fury.  "I have told them that you were behind that brave, bold man while he was engaged in a quarrel with me and I suspect that you ruthlessly stabbed him in the back! Then like the coward that you are fled and let me take the blame."

"I didn't......!"

"You did!  I saw you flee.   Upon my oath and as God as my witness I am sure you did the foul deed."  Again Nicholas jabbed his prisoner with the tip of his sword.  "Lord Owen Stafford paid you to kill Lord Woodcliff, didn't he?"  When Frizer made no answer he put the sword point to his neck.  "Didn't he?"

"Go ahead and cut my throat, for I will never answer.  Never!"  Frizer was defiant.  "I would have to be a fool to do so.  Were I to say to anyone that I laid a finger on that senile old nobleman, my life wouldn't be worth spit!"  To emphasize he did just that, aiming his saliva at Nicholas'
s boot.  "And even if I did, no one would give credit to a statement made while a man is threatened with death.  So yer see.  Yer might as well let me go.”

"Oh, Christopher......"  Alandra felt nearly as disappointed as Nicholas did.  Without this man's confession, he was lost.  What made matters more complicated was what to do with Will Frizer now?

"Let you go?  I think not!  What then?  Take you with us?  No. You have not the good looks to be an actor among us!"  Nicholas turned to Kempe.  He could never be a cold-blooded killer.  Even so he knew he had to bluff.  "Bring me a rope!"

"A rope?"  Heminges was horrified.  "Now see here, Christopher, I will not be a party to murder, no matter what sins you say this man has committed."

Once again coming to Nicholas' aid, Shakespeare silenced Heminges' protest.  "Silence, John. What Christopher requests makes perfect sense for I have no desire to feed an extra mouth on our travels."  His eyes twinkled mischievously as he also addressed Kempe.  "You heard, Christopher.  Bring forth a rope." 

There was a hushed, mortified silence as Kempe hurried to obey
, but Shakespeare's all-knowing look seemed to calm those in the room.

"You wouldn't!"  Will Frizer's eyes glinted fear.

"Oh, wouldn't I?"  As if to give credence to his threat, Nicholas took the rope from Kempe's hand and slowly, leisurely tied it in a hangman's knot.  He had seen Walsingham, the queen's great spymaster, bring forth  many a confession by  use of fear.   "Now, will you tell us all?"

"Never!"  Though Frizer was defiant his voice squeaked.

"Then you are of no use to me."  Nicholas slipped the noose around his captive's head.  "Alive you pose a danger to me and to my friends.  But dead men tell no tales."  With a flip of his wrist, Nicholas tossed the loose end of the rope over one of the room's wooden ceiling beams.  "It is your choice, Frizer.  Do you live or do you die?"

"God's elbows, Christopher has gone quite mad!"  William Sly was stunned by what he saw.

"Mad?  Perhaps."  Alandra  turned to Sly, knowing full well that Christopher did not really plan to carry out his threat.  "Or perhaps it is just that he seeks to protect all of us.  Were we to set this weasel free, he would go running to his master and then where would we all be?"  She winked to alert Sly to the ruse Christopher was using.

"Yes....I suppose...."  Wink or not William Sly was terribly uneasy.

"Your last chance, Frizer?  Will you exonerate me?"

"No!"  Frizer's answer was a groan as he suddenly felt the noose tightening.

"Then so be it!" 

With a tug on the rope
, Nicholas carried out his threat, watching sternly as Frizer choked and gasped, his face turning red.

"All right!"  Frizer's voice was a shriek.   "I will do as you say."

Relieved that this charade need go no further, Nicholas loosened the noose.  "You will be witness to my innocence in the stabbing death of Lord Woodcliffe?"

"Yes!  Yes!"  Frizer sputtered as he fought to catch his breath.

"And you did kill him and will confess to the crime."  Fearing a change of heart he amended, "with  promise of the queen's mercy."  He knew the lighter sentence would mean imprisonment, instead of death and wondered if such a sentence would truly be a blessing.

"I
will clear you, but I will not confess to murder!"  Frizer was surly on the matter.

Yet
Nicholas was encouraged.  It was as beginning.  At least there was now a chance that he might be exonerated of Lord Woodcliff's murder.  With that thought in mind, he summoned a messenger and hastily scribbled a missive to Elizabeth.