Kathryn Kramer (34 page)

“
Frizer will tell you of Christopher's innocence, you will see."  Alandra said to Radcliffe. She was certain, for she too believed that all would be well.

Triumphantly
, she put her hand on the door latch and opened that portal wide. She gasped when she saw Robert Armin slumped upon the floor. "Robert!"

Fearing the worst
, she hurried to his side, relieved to see that he was  only out cold and not dead.  The same, however, could not be said for the man he had been guarding.  Not five feet away, lying face down in a pool of blood, was Will Frizer. 

"God's thunder!"  At first having thought Frizer the
culprit of Armin's cracked head Nicholas was stunned.  Hoping beyond hope, he bent down and sought a heartbeat.  There was none.  Frizer had been stabbed in the heart by someone who had aimed well.  "Who could have done this?" Nicholas asked in despair.

"And why?"  Alandra waile
d.  They had been so careful, had guarded the rogue night and day.  How could this have happened?  Who would want Will Frizer dead?" 

Thomas Radcliff eyed Nicholas with undisguised suspicion.  "So one witness denies what you insist and the other ends up dead.  We shall see what the queen has to say of this."

"The queen......."  Nicholas muttered.

Alandra recognized a pained resignation in his expression, as if h
e realized there was no use in arguing.

"Shall we go." 
Radcliffe nodded his head, and the two guardsmen who had been as silent as bookends during the conversation moved toward Nicholas. They grabbed hold of his arms, leaving no doubt as to his status.  He was their prisoner.

Will Frizer was dead and Morgana steadfast in her falsehood of being nowhere near the inn.  Nicholas was on his way to see
Elizabeth but for what purpose?  With no witnesses from the Black Unicorn to corroborate his story, Alandra knew very well how perilous was his fate. And though she and the others had heard Frizer’s confession, would Elizabeth believe them?

Chapter Forty-Two

Tension engulfed Nicholas.  Suspicion rose up like a stone wall.  He could see that in Thomas Radcliff's eyes he was already tried and condemned. 
Yet he made a last attempt to convey his innocence as he struggled against the iron-fisted hands that held him. "I did not commit murder!  Not this man's and not Lord Woodcliff's."

Radcliffe cleared his throat then proclaimed loudly, “I arrest you in the name of the queen.”

Nicholas stood deathly
quiet, but when he was dragged toward the door, he came back to life. "Just a moment alone with Alandra to say goodbye," Nicholas pleaded.

"To say goodbye.  to her?"  Morgana's usually beautiful face tu
rned ugly with her anger.  "No, I do not allow it."

Radcliff looked as though he wanted to deny such a privilege but reluctantly nodded
, and the guardsmen released Nicholas. "A few minutes only!  And just remember  that we are right outside the door.  An attempt at escape will be construed as a confession of your guilt, not only in Woodcliff's murder but this man's murder as well."

With a grimace of disgust
, Thomas Radcliff pulled a sheet from the bed and draped it over the corpse of Will Frizer, then for once ignoring Morgana's protestations, he led the small group from the room, leaving the two people alone.

Nicholas slid his arms around Alandra's waist and pulled her close against his heart.  "And so I am right back where I began.  An accused murderer."  Threading his fingers through her dark brown hair, tilting up her face, he shook his head.  "No, not where I began, for then I did not know you, love you."

"Oh, Christopher....."  Her eyes glittered with  love for him.  "There must be something we can do.  We'll come to London.  To the Black Unicorn.  There were witnesses.  I'll find them somehow, make them give testimony in your name. And we all heard Frizer confess. Perhaps we can convince Elizabeth of your innocence."  Her lips quivered, and she bit her lip to fight against crying.

"No!  You
will stay here." 

He didn't want her to have anything to do with all of this
, for to do so would put her life and theirs in danger. Will Frizer's murderer was on the loose and Nicholas knew very well that were Alandra to interfere her own life might be forfeit.  That he could never bear."

"But I must.  I can't let you face this all alone." 

Steadfast in her loyalty she made a radiant sight.  Her large copper-colored eyes and the slant of her brows gave an impish quality to her face emphasizing her youth.  Her full lips, the  sensuous curve to her mouth, and the depth of emotions churning in her eyes, however, left no doubt that she was a woman.  His woman.

Never had she been more beautiful to Nicholas' eyes, never had he wanted to cling to her as fervently as he did now.  Deep down  he wanted to be with her, wanted her to come with him, to soothe him in his darkest hour of need, but he knew with heavy heart he would have to set her free.  Unselfishly he knew it to be the best thing for
her
. 

"I must go alone and you must stay here!" 

"I won't, nor will the others."  Alandra was indignant.  "We'll all come back to London and....."

Nicholas bent his head and kissed her, silencing her tirade.  Sliding his hands down the curve of her spin
, he  touched her with a long, lingering caress, then cupping her bottom, he crushed her intimately against him.  Alandra responded with a fervor which tormented him.  Oh, if only they had time, how passionately he would have made love to her, he thought.   But Nicholas knew his time had run out.

Alandra longed for his arms again the moment he set her free
, but when she reached out to him, he alluded her embrace. 

"We must not make this harder than it already is.  Goodbye, Alandra.  May God in his mercy be with you all the days of your life."

"Goodbye?"  Just like that.  One kiss and then
adieu
?

He looked down into her determined face and felt a fierce upsurge of love
, but answered, "There is nothing else to say." 
Oh, God
, he thought, if only she knew how this was tearing him up inside.  It was only by the greatest of self-control that he kept his sanity, lest he fall to his knees blubbering like a child.  He loved her.  Had he not known it before, he knew it now.  Leaving her was going to be the most difficult thing he had ever done.

"Don't forget me, Christopher."  Morgana's beauty loomed in her mind.  A cat who would find a chance to pounce now that he was at her mercy.  The very thought made her miserable.  "Alas, but I know you will."

Forget her?  Nicholas knew that as long as he lived Alandra Thatcher would be in his heart.  He'd remember her pert prettiness, her spunk, her gentleness, her giving nature.  He'd remember her smile and the bright sound of her laughter.  The days she so patiently taught him, the time they had spent together  would be implanted in his mind.  Forger her? Never.   She was a part of his very soul.  The memory of the love they had shared would fill the gloomy corners of his soul in days to come.   Even so, he forced himself to be gruff for her sake.

"It would be for the best.  One day you will meet another man....."

"Nay, do not speak of it!"  No man could ever take Christopher's place.  The very idea made her shudder.  Far better to die alone.  "We were too happy for me to even think about it."

Nicholas closed his eyes to his pain.  "Aye, we were happy
, but happiness does not last forever.  We loved each other, aye, but we knew one day we would have to part.  We entered into our love with open eyes.  Now the time has come to say goodbye and to wish each other well."

She was taken aback, stung by his words.  "Just like that.  I'm to just watch you leave and wave a fond goodbye?  No, Christopher, if you think I can do that then you never really knew me at all."

He looked away from her, for it was the only way he could control his emotions.  "Nicholas.  My name is Nicholas." 
Don't touch her
, he thought,
or else you are lost
.  "Sir Nicholas Leighton.  The moment I walk out that door, Christopher Nicholas is dead and my time among the players no more." 

The sound of Alandra's sobbi
ng broke through his resolve, such a mournful keening he could not ignore it.  "Alandra, love.  Don't...."  But her tears fell like rain.  "Alandra...."  How could he do else but pull her into his arms again?  Nicholas wiped away her tears with a gentle hand, his fingers lingering on the flushed curve of her cheek.

Alandra wound her arms around his neck, nestling he
r soft breasts into his chest.  "I adore you, Christopher.  We will be together again.  This I swear.  God couldn't be so cruel as to keep us apart."

She kissed him then,
ravishing him with her lips, teeth and tongue.  They held each other close until Radcliff and the guardsman intruded. 

"Come, you must make yourself ready.  It is still light and Lady Woodcliff is anxious to get back on the road for the return journey."  At his nod the two guardsmen grabbed hold of Nicholas again.  He was marched away, put upon a horse with his hands
tied behind his back to ride for London at the head of the tiny caravan. 

As they traveled down the road
, the inn got smaller and smaller, still as he looked back, Nicholas could see the outline of Alandra's head and shoulders leaning from the window as she bravely watched him ride away.  Her wave seemed to emphasize her promise that they would be together again. Then as the entourage rounded a bend in the road, he could see her no more.                           

ACT Three:   A Surprising Revelation

“And when love speaks the voice of all the gods,

Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.”

Love’s Labor Lost

HAMLET, act 4, scene 2

Chapter Forty-Three

It was a lonely world for Alandra without Nicholas, just as she knew it would be.  There was an ache inside her, a void that nothing
and no one could fill.  Yet she knew that Murray and Shakespeare were right when they said that life must go on. It did. Tediously. The only thing that kept Alandra going, however, was Shakespeare's promise that as soon as they were finished with the tour, the players would head straightway to London and there do what they could to aid in clearing their friend, Christopher.  Robert Armin had seen his assailant and could at least clear Christopher of Frizer’s murder.

"Whoever killed Will Frizer was behind Lord Woodcliff's murder and feared to be exposed,"  Shakespeare had concluded.  But who had killed the actors' captive?
How had the culprit taken Robert Armin unaware? Was the murderer still on the prowl?  Those questions deeply troubled Alandra.

The answer to one
question at least had been replied to when Robert Armin had been revived after Nicholas and the entourage had left the inn. Robert had sheepishly confided that he had opened the door when the tavern maid had called out that she had brought him some ale. Wanting the beverage, he had thought there would be no harm in opening the door to her. Instead of getting a drink, he had gotten a bump on the head that had rendered him senseless, but he seemed to remember a woman's voice calling out the name "Tom".  Before he had succumbed to the black whirling before his eyes, he had also caught sight of  a man with coal black hair, bushy brows and a crooked nose.  A man with only one ear.

Alandra had inquired after the tavern maid, hoping to learn the whole story
, only to find that she had been  thrown out by the inn keeper because of Morgana's complaint about the young woman's clumsiness.  As to the dark-haired man with the thick brows, misshapen nose, and missing ear, it was as if he were but a figment of Armin's imagination.  No one recalled having seen him at the inn.

"And thus it is hopeless,"
Alandra had dejectedly announced to Shakespeare.  "Will Frizer was killed before he was given a chance to speak up on Christopher's behalf."

The brown
eyes of the playwright were gentle as he looked at her.  "We'll get your Christopher out of trouble.  I promise.  Somehow we'll find the real murderer and expose him to the queen."  And once they had discovered the killer’s identity, Will had a remarkable idea for making certain that Elizabeth was told directly when they learned of the killer's identity.  "A masque began Christopher's problems. It seems only fitting that a play likewise get him out of the noose, so to speak."

"We'll act out the murderer's identity when we g
ive our play before the queen!" Alandra threw back her head and laughed

"Precisely!"
             

"Oh, I can hardly wait!"  Imagine Christopher's surprise when he learned that the Lord Chamberlain's men had come to his rescue
, she thought.  He would be free and then they could be together again.

Instead of calming her as they set out again upon the road
, it had only made her all the more impatient to have done with the tour and return to the city on the Thames.  Suddenly London and Christopher seemed so far away.

The last stop on the
player's journey was Bristol, a city upon Will's beloved Avon, England's busiest west cost port for hundreds of years.  One of the chief cities of England, the second city of the realm, it stood northwest of Bath, on a hill that afforded a clear view of its cathedral and the beautiful houses that had been built by the town's merchants.  It was a city that loved the theater, thus the players looked forward to a successful week of play-giving, but as soon as the Lord Chamberlain's men arrived, they could see at once that the city was not at its best.  Years of depression and bad harvests had hit Bristol.  Hardly an atmosphere that guaranteed replenishing the company's coffers.  Even so, it was decided that they would stay. Alandra, however, doubted that the play Will had chosen,
The Merchant of Venice
, had any chance of being a success, not amidst such turmoil.

"As part of our fee for giving performances here our stay at the inn will be free,"  Shakespeare reported.  "Though we will not have a room for each of us but will double, nay triple up."  Heminges and Shakespeare would share a room, Kempe, Condel and Sly, Armin and Burbage and so on.  Alandra was to share a room with
Murray.

Nor were the actors the only ones forced to share quarters.  The mayor had decreed that all the citizens had to keep as many poor persons in their houses as their income would permit, for fear of an insurrection.  The mood of the townspeople was surly as the actors rode into town.  There was none of the pomp and frivolity that had accompanied their earlier entrances.  Wheat was selling for twenty shillings a bushel and matters might have been even worse had one of the aldermen not imported rye from Danzig to make available to the people of
Bristol at half the local price.

"Well, at least her
e we won't feel impoverished," William Sly quipped.  "For sooth, we will fit right in."

The actors tried to keep an op
timistic spirit about the situation, but it became more and more difficult as they rode along.  There was rioting in the city.  Tempers flared, heads were smashed and the general attitude was one of hostility towards everyone and everything.  Egg-vendors and butter-women were beat up for increasing and more than doubling their prices.               

Alandra tried to shut out the babble of voices that surrounded her as the play
wagon rolled along.  Still, the loud cries of the vendors hawking their wares pierced her ears, to be answered by howling protest declaring that eggs at a penny each, butter at seven pence a pound was not to be tolerated.  Butter was smeared on the cobblestones, eggs were used as ammunition.  Despite the fact that they were not involved in the squabble, the players were the victim of more than one or two.

"We'll keep these for our breakfast," 
Murray said behind his hand, coming forth with two eggs that had somehow remained unscathed.  "Save money where we can."

"Chin up, Alandra.  Put
on a brave face.  Those in our profession always forget themselves so that others might be entertained."  Shakespeare's tone held gentle scolding and in the end Alandra agreed, hoping beyond hope that the play would be well received despite the townspeople’s troubles

To her delight and surprise, the performance was a success
!  Longing to forget their troubles, if only for a little while, the common folk of Bristol and the elite as well came in a flock to see the players. 

"They loved us,"
Richard Burbage exclaimed at play's end, coming off stage after his twentieth bow. 

"And what is more
, they didn't throw even one apple or orange,"  William Sly said with a purposeful wink.

"That's because they didn't want to waste an
ything edible," William Kempe quipped.  "For once I had hoped that they would, considering our meager circumstances and all."             

Playfully the actors engaged in cheerful and witty joking.  "Banter", as
Murray called it.  Good humored fun.               

"Banter,"  Alandra repeated.  There was something about the word that tugged at the tendrils of her brain.  "Banter."

"A word meaning to tease, Alandra," Shakespeare informed her, mistaking her wide-eyed expression.  "Banter."

"Banter!"  The word tripped off her tongue as she repeated it over and over, until the actors were staring at her, thinking she must surely have lost her mind.  "Tom.
Banter. Tom Banter. Of course!"  Her face grew pale as she suddenly put it all together, remembering the name.  "That's who killed Will Frizer.  It all makes sense."

"It does?" 
Murray looked at her quizzically, whispering behind his hand that he was going to take her at once to the inn and put her to bed. "I fear she has always been of a choleric humor."

"No!"  Alandra pulle
d away from her father's outstretched arms.  She needed no doctoring.  "You don't understand."  Thus she hurried to explain that Christopher had mentioned that one of the rogues who had been with Frizer at the Black Unicorn had been named Banter. Tom Banter. "Don't you see, it all fits together."

"The Tom who hit me over the head,"  Robert Armin exclaimed.

"It makes sense."  Will Frizer and Tom Banter had killed Lord Woodcliff.   Tom Banter had killed Will Frizer.  But what about the woman Armin had heard calling to Banter?  Who was she?  The answer hit Alandra like a physical blow.  Morgana!  Who else?  It all added up and explained so many things. 

Rushing over to Shakespeare, Alandra tugged at his sleeve.  "We have to go to
London.  Not at week's end but as soon as we can.  Early tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow?"  Will shook his head.  "We can't.  We promised another four days worth of performance."

"We have to.  If you and the others won't go with me then I'll go alone.  I swear it."  Even if she had to steal a horse or walk all the way, she had to hurry to London.  The truth of the matter was clear to her now.  Christopher was in more danger than he could ever have suspected.