The Bawdy Basket (26 page)

‘You are as much at fault as they,’ accused Gill.

‘Their cause was a worthy one, Barnaby. I tried to support them.’

‘And brought about the collapse of all our hopes in the process.’

‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘That is not true.’

‘It is, Nick,’ said Firethorn. ‘This moneylender will buy us out of business.’

Gill pointed a finger at him. ‘Much of the blame must rest on your shoulders.’

‘I did what I felt to be right and honest.’

‘Is it right and honest to steal my occupation from me?’

‘Stop bickering!’ yelled Firethorn.

‘You have betrayed us all, Lawrence.’

Nicholas slammed an object down on the table to bring their argument to an end. Both men fell silent and stared down at the dagger that gleamed before them.

‘What is that?’ asked Gill.

‘The weapon that was meant to kill me yesterday,’ explained Nicholas coolly. ‘You talk of losing your occupation, Master Gill, but I came close to losing my life. And I have Sir Eliard Slaney to thank for it.’

Firethorn was alarmed. ‘Can this be true, Nick?’

Nicholas told them about the attack, omitting the reason that had taken him to Turnmill Street but telling them enough to convince them that the moneylender had ordered his death. Firethorn was full of sympathy for his friend but Gill saw it only from his own viewpoint.

‘Are we to be hunted down by hired assassins?’ he cried.

‘You are quite safe, Master Gill,’ said Nicholas. ‘Sir Eliard has found a way to stab us by legal means. He knows that Frank and I are involved with Westfield’s Men. A strike at the company is a broadside against us.’

Gill leapt up. ‘Then there’s the remedy, Lawrence,’
he urged. ‘Evict both Frank Quilter and Nicholas from our midst and we are saved. Sir Eliard will not need to destroy us then. Let him know that we have got rid of the troublemakers.’

‘Sit down, Barnaby,’ ordered Firethorn.

‘My plan solves everything.’

‘Sit down!’ He reached out to pull Gill back onto his seat. ‘Even for you, that is a shameful suggestion. At the very moment when we should pull together, you want to cast two of our number adrift.’

‘But they are the ones dragging us down into the water.’

‘We are not,’ said Nicholas firmly. ‘Apply a little thought to the situation and you will see that it may not be as gloomy as it appears.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Firethorn.

‘Firstly, there is the question of time. Westfield’s Men will not expire at the end of the month. If our patron cannot repay his debts,’ Nicholas pointed out, ‘that is when he may be taken to court. But the law’s delay will add valuable time to our life.’

‘That’s like saying we’ll twitch a little longer at the end of the hangman’s rope.’

‘It was Gerard Quilter who was executed. Unjustly, in our view. We have already gathered some evidence to exonerate him. Once our investigation is complete,’ promised Nicholas, ‘we will be in a position to confront Sir Eliard Slaney with his villainy and free Westfield’s Men from the threat of dissolution.’

‘True,’ said Firethorn, scratching his beard. ‘Sir Eliard
cannot enforce payment of the debts if he is languishing in prison.’

Gill was sceptical. ‘You are assuming that he is guilty.’

‘He is!’ attested Nicholas.

‘How do we know that it can be proved?’

‘Put your trust in us, Master Gill.’

‘We did that before,’ retorted Gill, ‘and look where it has got us!’

‘Sir Eliard is far too slippery to be caught,’ said Firethorn.

Nicholas shook his head. ‘We believe otherwise.’

‘He is, Nick. If your guess is correct, he has manipulated the law in the most blatant way. Sir Eliard could only have done that if he had powerful friends. We have none of equal merit,’ he said wearily. ‘Except our patron, that is, but he has turned out to be our worst liability.’ He picked up the dagger. ‘Sir Eliard will stop at nothing to get his way. He now intends to push this between the shoulders of the whole company.’

‘That is why we must fight back.’

‘How?’

‘It is impossible,’ said Gill.

‘Would you rather lie down and let him trample over us?’ said Nicholas, trying to shame them. ‘Will you admit defeat without even lifting a hand to save Westfield’s Men? Yes, I know that Sir Eliard Slaney is a dangerous enemy. The speed with which he has moved shows that. One of his creatures must have looked into our affairs,’ he concluded. ‘I’ll wager that he goes by the name of Cyril Paramore. It is the kind of work that gentleman would do swiftly and well.
No matter who it was, Sir Eliard had enough information at his fingertips today to threaten Lord Westfield with extinction.’

‘When our patron falls,’ said Gill, ‘then we fall with him.’

‘Not if Sir Eliard Slaney falls first.’

‘How can we ensure that, Nick?’ asked Firethorn.

‘I have a plan.’

‘If it involves Frank Quilter,’ said Gill, ‘I’ll hear none of it.’

‘Nor will I,’ agreed Firethorn.

‘It involves all of us,’ said Nicholas quietly. ‘The axe is hanging over Westfield’s Men. If we are to avoid its keen edge, we must fight as a company. It is the only way to stave off Sir Eliard Slaney.’

‘Tell us how, Nick.’

‘Let me speak to Edmund first.’

‘Edmund?’ repeated Firethorn. ‘He does not care if we sink or swim.’

‘I’ll play on his loyalty.’

‘He
has
no loyalty,’ declared Gill.

Firethorn was dejected. ‘If we are to rely on Edmund Hoode, we may as well start to dig our graves now. He’ll not lift a finger to help us. A pox on it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I do believe that this is the worst day of my life. I am spurned by our playwright, abandoned by our patron and brought down by a foul toad of a moneylender. As for Margery, I fear that she may bar the door of our bedchamber against me.’ Looking up, he raised both hands to the heavens. ‘What further torment do you have in store for me?’

It was at that moment that Alexander Marwood appeared, hobbling across to them on a stick. His face had a deathly pallor but there was a sharp crackle of life in his voice.

‘There you are, Master Firethorn,’ said the landlord. ‘Now that I am recovered, I have some complaints to make against your company. When I needed sleep, the thunder of your performances kept me awake for hours. I demand recompense, sir.’

Firethorn sagged. ‘Why did I have to tempt Providence?’ he said.

Edmund Hoode was enjoying a contentment that he had never known before. Events had moved so swiftly that he was in a state of pleasant bewilderment. A short while ago, he had never even heard of Avice Radley yet now he could not imagine life without her. To his glazed and adoring eyes, she was the epitome of beauty, a woman who possessed all of the female virtues yet who was, miraculously, within reach of his undeserving hands. During their brief romance, he had moved through every stage of infatuation until he had attained the deep joy of lasting togetherness. Alone of all the women in his past, she loved him in the way that he wanted to be loved, admiring him for himself as well as for his talents and intent on creating a protected world in which they could grow even closer. Hoode put something of his devotion to her in the first sonnet that he had produced. Gazing soulfully at her, he recited the closing couplet.

‘
And yet, I own, I think my love so pure
,

In thy sweet arms, I stand at heaven’s door
.’

Avice Radley was enthralled. She gave him a kiss of gratitude on the cheek.

‘Thank you, Edmund,’ she said. ‘The sonnet was beautiful.’

‘It needs more work on it yet.’

‘I would not change a single syllable.’

‘It is too rough-hewn.’

‘Not to my way of thinking.’

‘I had thought to weave your name into the sonnet,’ he confessed, ‘but neither Avice nor Radley lend themselves to pretty rhymes. “Sadly” and “badly” have no place in any poem that celebrates you.’

She smiled. ‘You may find room for “madly” on another occasion.’

‘That word rhymes with Edmund Hoode,’ he declared, ‘for I have been in the grip of a divine madness ever since we met.’

‘It was so with me. When I wrote that letter to you, I gave way to a madness.’

‘Then we are both happy lunatics, shut away in a private Bedlam.’

‘Throw away the key,’ she said, ‘for I can think of no finer place to be.’

They were sitting beside each other in the parlour of Avice Radley’s house. Hoode’s cheek was still glowing warmly from the kiss that she had bestowed upon it. Wanting to place his lips on her own cheek, he lacked the courage to lean impulsively forward so he kissed her hand instead. She stroked his arm with her fingertips until he was tingling all over. Sufficiently
emboldened, Hoode was about to embrace her when there was a knock at the front door. He moved back guiltily.

‘Are you expecting a visitor?’ he asked.

‘No, Edmund. I want nobody to disturb us.’

His voice hardened. ‘I hope that it is not Lawrence Firethorn again.’

‘If it is, he will not be admitted across the threshold.’

‘He will try anything to lure me back again.’

‘You are mine now,’ she avowed.

There was a tap on the door then it opened to reveal the maidservant.

‘A gentleman is asking for Master Hoode,’ she said.

‘Tell him I am not here,’ he replied.

‘No,’ said Avice, overruling him. ‘Let us at least hear his name.’

‘It is Nicholas Bracewell,’ said the maidservant, ‘and he sends his apologies for disturbing you at this hour.’

Avice saw the indecision in Hoode’s face. She suspected that he would refuse to see anyone else from Westfield’s Men but he had spoken so warmly of its book holder that she sensed a close friendship between them. The visitor could represent no danger to her. From what she heard of him, Nicholas Bracewell would hardly seek to pay his attentions to her as Lawrence Firethorn had tried to do, nor could he divert Hoode from his chosen path while she was beside him. Though she was annoyed by the intrusion, she was also curious to meet a man of whom she had heard so much praise.

‘Show him in,’ she said to the maidservant.

Seconds later, Nicholas entered the room. After
introductions had been made, he reiterated his apologies for disturbing them. Avice Radley was very impressed by his appearance and by his manner. Hoode, however, was extremely wary.

‘How did you know where to find me?’ he asked.

‘Lawrence Firethorn gave me this address,’ replied Nicholas. ‘I went first to your lodging and, since you were not there, hoped that I might track you down here.’

‘You have come on a fruitless errand, Nick. My answer remains the same as the one I gave to George Dart earlier. I am no longer at Lawrence’s beck and call.’

‘I understand that, Edmund.’

‘Then take the message back to him.’

‘But I have not come at his behest,’ said Nicholas. ‘Had it been left to him, I would not be here at all for he assured me that it would be a waste of time. I like to think that I know you rather better than he.’

Hoode raised a warning hand. ‘I’ll not be persuaded, Nick.’

‘Our decision is inviolable,’ said Avice. ‘Nothing can change it.’

‘I respect your decision, Mistress Radley,’ said Nicholas politely. ‘I am not here in the vain hope of retaining Edmund’s services for Westfield’s Men. Mine is a much simpler request.’

‘In that case,’ decided Hoode, ‘speak on.’

‘You did promise to stay with us until the end of the month.’

‘That is so.’

‘While you are there, we still have a right to call on you.’

‘That was the undertaking I gave to Lawrence. I’ll play
the parts assigned to me and do so to the best of my ability. It is the least I can offer to the company.’

‘Do you know what we perform on Tuesday, Edmund?’

‘
The Merchant of Calais
.’

‘My choice of all his plays,’ said Avice, clapping her hands together. She appraised Nicholas. ‘And I believe that
you
had a hand in its invention.’

Nicholas was modest. ‘Edmund is the sole author, I assure you.’

‘Come, Nick,’ said the playwright graciously. ‘You were my inspiration.’

‘Providing inspiration is not the same as writing the piece.’

‘Writing is impossible without a creative spark and it was you who gave me that.’

‘Perhaps,’ agreed Nicholas, pleased to hear the warmth in his friend’s voice. ‘It is also my favourite of your plays, Edmund, because it carries so many echoes of my own family. I am glad that you think I have some claim to its authorship because that is what has brought me here today.’

‘What exactly do you wish Edmund to do?’ asked Avice.

‘Honour his contract with the company.’

‘In what way?’

‘He is not only obliged to take part in whatever we perform,’ said Nicholas, ‘he is also required to improve or make alterations to existing plays. That’s my embassy. I want some important changes made in
The Merchant of Calais
.’

‘But why, Nick?’ wondered Hoode.

‘Because it may be the one way to rescue the company from extinction.’

‘You see how easily it is done, Adam?’ he asked. ‘So much for the power of money.’

‘Or
lack
of money, Sir Eliard.’

‘Those who live on credit must face a day of reckoning.’

Haygarth gave a brittle laugh. ‘It is now at hand for Lord Westfield.’

They were in the upstairs room that Sir Eliard Slaney used as his counting house. The oak shelves that lined the walls were filled with ledgers and piles of documents. More tomes and sheaves of paper lay on the table. Sir Eliard was sitting in his high-backed chair while his visitor remained standing. Though he was pleased to hear the news, Justice Haygarth was not entirely persuaded that it would solve their problem.

‘Will this cunning device work, Sir Eliard?’

‘It has already worked, Adam,’ replied the moneylender. ‘Once I learnt that Lord Westfield was heavily in debt, I saw the way to bring his company down. Nicholas Bracewell will have no time to bother us while he is fighting to save his beloved company.’

‘What of Francis Quilter?’

‘He is no threat to us on his own. Besides, he has a contract with the troupe as well. If they call on all their reserves, they may summon him back to their bosom.’

‘But what happens then?’

‘They struggle in vain to survive,’ said Sir Eliard, gloating
happily. ‘When I bring their patron down, they will fall apart. Nicholas Bracewell will have been taught the consequences of meddling with me. He’ll not trouble us further.’

‘I fear that he might.’

‘He’ll be too busy trying to find employment elsewhere.’

‘He’ll want revenge. So will Francis Quilter.’

‘They’ve no means to achieve it, Adam.’

‘They have great determination.’

‘That will be taken up with the battle to keep Westfield’s Men in existence. By the time that is over,’ said Sir Eliard airily, ‘they’ll have no stomach left to measure their strength against me. In any case, the trail will have gone cold. I’ll make sure of that.’

Haygarth grinned. ‘You have thought of everything, Sir Eliard.’

‘That is a precept of mine.’

‘I would never have believed that you could bring the company to its knees.’

‘We have Cyril to applaud there. The irony is that he admires Westfield’s Men and would rather see them flourish than decline. He and his wife have watched them perform at the Queen’s Head. But he appreciates the need for our safety.’

‘It is paramount,’ said Haygarth.

‘That is why he gathered the necessary facts so quickly.’ Sir Eliard leafed through some of the papers on his table. ‘Here they are. Outstanding bills that show the full extent of Lord Westfield’s debts. He has borrowed from almost every moneylender in the city apart from me.’ He cackled dryly. ‘I have the sense to charge higher interest than they
do. I also make sure that I only lend to people who can be made to pay. That is the beauty of these transactions, Adam. I made a profit before I even started.’

‘How, Sir Eliard?’

‘By offering to settle a debt while paying only half of the principle. They could not wait to take my money. Cash in hand is better than the promise of twice that amount if you know that the promise will never be honoured.’ He squinted up at his visitor. ‘We are in twin professions, Adam. The law and the lending of money have a kinship. In order to get the best results, we have to be merciless. Lord Westfield is like so many of his kind. He is an extravagant man without the money to sustain that extravagance. As long as there are enough fools to supply him with credit, he’ll continue his prodigal ways.’

‘Not any more, it seems.’

‘No, Adam. Even as we speak, Cyril is still calling on some of his creditors. Well,’ he said, spreading his arms. ‘It is Sunday, is it not? Are we not enjoined to
give
on the Sabbath? I have been more than liberal in the way I have dispersed my funds.’

‘Only to gain a higher return, Sir Eliard.’

‘Usury is an art.’

‘Nobody practises it with such consummate skill.’

‘That is what Nicholas Bracewell and his company will find out. They will be wiped from the face of London. Their patron will be disgraced and forced to surrender much of his property to me.’ He cackled again. ‘Is this not cleverly done, Adam?’

‘It has the lustre of brilliance.’

Sir Eliard preened himself. ‘What a joyous time it is proving to be!’ he said. ‘I send a hated enemy to the gallows at Smithfield and then, when his son has the gall to pursue me in the name of justice, I destroy the company he belongs to and make a handsome profit into the bargain.’

‘There have been moments of apprehension,’ Haygarth reminded him.

‘Trivialities that were brushed aside.’

‘Moll Comfrey was more than a triviality, Sir Eliard.’

‘She was a bawdy basket of no account.’

‘Her evidence could have put us all behind bars.’

‘Only if it had been heard and believed.’

‘She was a serious threat to us.’

‘That is why I had her silenced.’

‘You swore that you’d have Nicholas Bracewell silenced as well.’

‘He deserved the same fate.’

‘What went wrong?’

‘He was not such easy game as the girl,’ admitted Sir Eliard. ‘But he will be utterly silenced now. We’ll hear no more from him while his company is in peril.’

‘Is he aware of what you have done?’

‘He will be very soon, Adam.’ He held up the sheaf of papers. ‘When I had enough power in my grasp, I sent Lord Westfield a courteous letter, warning him that I would need repayment of all outstanding debts within a month. It was such a pleasure to ruin his Sunday for him,’ he added with a grin. ‘I daresay that he will have passed on the tidings to Westfield’s Men by now.’

‘What will they do, Sir Eliard?’

‘The only thing they can do.’

‘And what is that?’

‘Shake in their shoes as Armageddon approaches.’

Nicholas Bracewell was succinct. He gave them a concise but lucid description of the fate that confronted Westfield’s Men. He also explained why he believed that Gerard Quilter had been the victim of a cruel miscarriage of justice. Nicholas awaited their reaction. There was a guarded sympathy in Avice Radley’s face but Edmund Hoode was frankly outraged.

‘God’s mercy!’ he cried. ‘This knavish moneylender would destroy us?’

‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas. ‘If we do not stop him, Sir Eliard Slaney will demolish all that Westfield’s Men stand for, including the excellence of Edmund Hoode’s plays.’

‘This is brutal vengeance indeed.’

‘That is why it must be resisted.’

‘I agree, Nick. We should fight to the death.’

‘But it is no longer your battle, Edmund,’ said Avice, putting a hand on his arm. ‘I am truly sorry to learn that the company may disappear. It has given me so much pleasure and, in bringing you into my life, it has earned my undying thanks. But you are bidding the company farewell.’

‘Not until the end of the month, Avice.’

‘That’s but a matter of days.’

‘Those few days may yet redeem the situation,’ argued Nicholas. ‘If Edmund follows my advice, we may still pluck ourselves from this disaster.’

‘Teach me how, Nick,’ said Hoode.

‘There is no point,’ challenged Avice.

‘Yes, there is.’

‘Let them manage on their own.’

‘They will do that when the month is up, Avice. Until then, it is only fair that I should do all that I can to help my fellows.’