The Malevolent Comedy (23 page)

‘Either way, it must not take place.’

‘You’ll not stop me,’ said Bernice, temper flaring.

‘Then you’ll have to suffer the consequences.’

‘Gladly. An hour alone with Edmund, and I’ll suffer any strictures from Father. I’m loved and admired, Ursula. I inspire poetry from the most wonderful poet in London.’ Bernice folded her arms in defiance. ‘I must go to him. It’s my destiny.’

It was much easier in daylight. Being able to see an inn more clearly enabled them to decide whether or not it would be suitable for two visitors from the country with a taste for comfortable accommodation. Nicholas Bracewell and Leonard were able to move more quickly and go into more hostelries. The longer they searched, the further away they were taken from the Queen’s Head. Nicholas became aware of the time.

‘Let’s turn back,’ he said, reluctantly.

‘Perhaps the others have had more fortune.’

‘I hope so, Leonard. It may be that these people have friends in the city and stay at their house. If that’s the case, we’ll never find them.’

‘Will they harm Dick Honeydew?’ asked Leonard.

‘I think not. There is no need.’

‘There was no need to poison Hal Bridger.’

‘That was done to bring a performance to an end,’ said Nicholas. ‘As long as they hold Dick, they know the play will not be staged. His role is too long and difficult for any of the other apprentices to learn in a day. Besides, we would not risk another performance or it might bring down their wrath on Dick Honeydew.’

‘They’ll have to endure my wrath when we catch up with them.’

‘And mine, Leonard.’

They walked on and turned into Gracechurch Street, picking their way through the morning crowds. Nicholas was a big man but he seemed almost short beside the massive Leonard. He could see why he had not been ambushed in his friend’s company the previous night. Leonard’s sheer bulk would frighten most people away. But it also made him ponderous. While Nicholas strode, the other man sauntered. They were thirty yards from the Queen’s Head when Leonard came to a halt and pointed a finger.

‘That’s him, Nick!’ he said. ‘I believe that’s him!’

‘Are you sure, Leonard?’

‘I’m almost sure.’

Nicholas looked at the man ahead of them. He was tall, lean and wore the kind of decorous apparel that made him stand out from the market traders and their customers. Fair-haired and with a beard, he had the unmistakable air of a gentleman. When the man went into the Queen’s Head, it was conclusive proof to Leonard. He wanted to charge in after him.

‘No,’ said Nicholas, holding him back, ‘let’s move with
care. If it is the man, and he sees you rushing at him, he’ll take to his heels at once. Let me go after him because he knows you by sight. If a mistake has been made, there’s no harm done. If, however, he
is
the villain we seek,’ said Nicholas, ‘I’ll drag him out. Guard the back door of the taproom in case he breaks away from me.’

‘As you wish,’ said Leonard, ‘but I’d like to lay hands on him.’

‘We all would.’

Obeying his instructions, Leonard went and stood by the back door. Nicholas, meanwhile, entered through the front. The taproom was busy, filled with spectators coming to the play that afternoon. The fair-haired man had found a table in the corner. He looked round to beckon a servingman. Nicholas closed in on him.

‘Might I have a word with you, sir?’ he asked, politely.

‘Do I have any choice in the matter?’

‘No.’

‘Then speak on, my friend,’ said the man with a bland smile, ‘for I can see that nothing will stop you.’

‘My name is Nicholas Bracewell.’

‘I know that. You are the book holder for Westfield’s Men and have been a mainstay of theirs for years. What would you have with me?’

‘First,’ said Nicholas, ‘I’d like to know where you hail from. Those vowels of yours were not nurtured here in London. They have a country sound to them.’

‘I was born and brought up near Lincoln. Is that a crime?’

‘It might be. Could I ask your business in coming here?’

‘What else but to see a play?’ returned the man, easily. ‘And I hope to catch sight of Saul Hibbert, for I know he stays here.’

‘You also know why his comedy has been cancelled today.’

‘Do I?’

‘You are playing games with me, sir,’ said Nicholas, annoyed by the man’s arch tone. ‘Let’s step outside and talk more freely there.’

‘I mean to dine here first.’

‘I think you’ll come with me.’

‘Take your hands off,’ said the other, resisting as Nicholas lifted him from his seat. ‘Is this the kind of hospitality you offer to your audience?’

Nicholas released him. ‘We’ll leave by the back door,’ he said.

‘I’d rather go on my own,’ decided the man.

Without warning, he pushed Nicholas away and bolted for the back door, buffeting a few shoulders on the way. Nicholas went after him. When the man flung open the door, he ran straight into Leonard who enfolded him in a bear hug. Nicholas came out to join them.

‘Let me go, you oaf,’ cried the man, ‘or I’ll have the law on you.’

‘Have no fear,’ said Nicholas, ‘officers will be called.’

‘Get this man off me!’

‘First, tell us your name.’

‘It is Cyrus Hame and I’m a playwright with Banbury’s Men. I’d certainly not work for your company if this is how I’d be treated.’

‘Cyrus Hame?’ said Nicholas. ‘The co-author of
Lamberto
?’

‘The very same.’

‘Let go of him, Leonard.’

Leonard released him and looked at his face properly for the first time. Seen from a distance, there had been a strong resemblance to the man who had once questioned him in the yard. On closer inspection, doubts began to crowd in. Leonard’s face fell.

‘It’s not him, Nick,’ he said.

Edmund Hoode got there early so that there was no chance of missing her. The designated spot was close to St Paul’s Cathedral. Before he reached it, however, he saw that she was already there, impelled by the same impatience that he felt. The servant girl beside her was sent away as he approached, retreating several yards to allow them privacy. Hoode’s excitement robbed him of his voice. Ursula spoke first.

‘You may be surprised to see me here, Master Hoode,’ she said.

‘The surprise is equalled only by the delight.’

‘Delight?’

‘It’s a kind of ecstasy,’ he said.

‘I came to tell you that this is improper,’ she said, briskly. ‘It was foolish of Bernice to give you such an invitation but wrong of you to send her that poem in the first place. She is young and headstrong. When she wrote to you, Bernice did not know what she was doing.’

Hoode was despondent. ‘Bernice?’ he said.

‘I came here ahead of her in the hope that I could speak to you first. Please, Master Hoode, I take you for a gentleman with high principles. I do not believe that you would lead a young lady astray.’

‘No, no. I would not dream of it.’

‘Then tell that to my sister.’

‘Gladly.’

‘And be kind to her as you do so,’ said Ursula. ‘I knew that I could count on your understanding.’

‘You can count on anything I have,’ he murmured.

‘It is better to hurt her now than cause her deeper pain later on.’

‘You show consideration to your sister,’ said Hoode, realising that his sonnet had fallen into the wrong hands. ‘I’ll do the same I promise you. I can see now that I behaved impetuously and I regret it.’

‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.’

He was tentative. ‘Bernice told you of the poem, then?’

‘She even showed it to me. It was well written, Master Hoode,’ she said, ‘but I would expect that of you. I admired its form while frowning at its sentiments. Had such a sonnet been sent to me, I would have blushed to receive it. It had a maudlin note.’

‘I see.’

‘Bernice was deeply affected. She has conceived a fondness for you that she mistakes for something else. I felt it my duty to save her from any humiliation that might come.’

‘That’s very honourable of you.’

‘I’m glad that we are in agreement, sir.’ She offered her hand and he shook it. At her touch, Hoode felt a thrill throughout his whole body. ‘Thank you.’

‘It was good of you to come here.’

‘It was the only thing I could think of doing.’

‘You behaved like a dutiful sister.’

‘I’ll steal away before Bernice comes. Be gentle with her.’

‘Rely on me,’ he said.

‘I will.’

When she turned away, he blew a kiss at her departing back. Hoode’s dejection slowly lifted. His fulsome sonnet might have hit the wrong target but it had allowed him two precious minutes alone with the woman he loved. It had also given him an insight into her essential goodness and moral rectitude. Ursula Opie was not a woman to be swept into his arms by a mere sonnet. She was a goddess who had to be worshipped from afar, a wondrous icon, an ethereal being that was all the more inspiring for being so unattainable. Her rejection of him only served to intensify his devotion.

Meanwhile, there was another sister on her way. Bernice Opie came tripping along with a servant at her heels. When she caught sight of him, a broad smile lit her face. Ursula had asked him to be kind and gentle. It was an easy request to satisfy. Nothing would have persuaded him to send a poem of any sort to Bernice Opie. It had to be explained away as a foolish romantic gesture on his part. Hoode cleared his throat and began to rehearse his excuses.

Cupid’s Folly
drew a substantial audience that afternoon but it had nothing like the size or excitement of the crowds that had come to see the play it had replaced. It was one of the company’s staple comedies, a sturdy and reliable war-horse on which they could trot happily for a couple of hours. With the inimitable Barnaby Gill in the main role, it filled the yard with laughter yet again. George Dart was promoted to hold the book, leaving Nicholas Bracewell free to watch the audience from the same upper room he had used before. He thought it unlikely that one or both of the kidnappers would be there, but he wanted to make sure.

Having met Cyrus Hame, he at least had a clearer idea of what the man he was after looked like. Nicholas had no qualms about the rough welcome that Hame had been given. He and John Vavasor were known to have done their best to lure Saul Hibbert away from Westfield’s Men and deprive them of what had seemed to be a dazzling new talent. Hame and Hibbert had been birds of a feather, proud peacocks that liked to strut and show off their finery. The disgraced playwright would have little use for his wardrobe in prison.

Though he scanned the faces in the galleries, Nicholas could see none that looked as if it might belong to the man he sought. All that the kidnappers would want to know was that
The Malevolent Comedy
had given way to another play, and they could learn that from the playbills that had been posted up to advertise the event. When the play was over, he waited until the applause died down, and the yard began to empty, before making his way downstairs. The landlord intercepted him.

‘I
knew
that he was a villain,’ he said, wagging a finger. ‘We owe you thanks for finding him out.’

‘I’m glad that he had enough money in his purse to settle his bill.’

‘And he’s in prison now, you say?’

‘Condemned for his many crimes,’ said Nicholas.

‘I hear that bigamy was one of them.’

‘It was. Under two different names, he had at least three wives.’

‘I do not know whether to be shocked or to feel sorry for him,’ said Marwood, smacking his cheek to stop it twitching so alarmingly. ‘One wife is more than enough for me. Two would break my back. Three would be something akin to purgatory.’

‘The Queen’s Head will be quieter without Saul Hibbert.’

‘I’ll say “Amen” to that.’

Nicholas broke away and went into the yard. Most of the spectators had left and the scenery was already being taken from the stage. Leonard waved and hurried across to his friend.

‘Nicholas, Nicholas!’ he called. ‘I’ve seen her again.’

‘Who?’

‘The young lady who asked about the book holder.’

‘Are you certain it was her?’

‘Yes,’ said Leonard. ‘I’d swear to it.’

‘You were certain about that gentleman this morning and he turned out to be Cyrus Hame. Let’s not have another mistake,’ said Nicholas, warily. ‘You have to be absolutely sure, Leonard.’

‘I am. She spoke to me again.’

‘When?’

‘Not two minutes ago. I came looking for you at once.’

‘Had the lady been at the play?’

‘No,’ replied Leonard, ‘she came to ask why
The Malevolent Comedy
had been replaced. I told her that it was out of favour with you.’

‘Good. What else did you say?’

‘That its author was in prison and likely to stay there a long time. She seemed pleased. She thanked me for my help then walked away.’

‘You should have followed her!’ said Nicholas.

‘Not with these slow legs of mine. Besides, she knows me by sight and would have been warned of my pursuit.’

‘In other words, she got away.’

‘I’m not such a dullard as that, Nicholas.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I sent George Dart after her,’ said Leonard, proudly. ‘He’s small enough to keep out of sight and young enough to run all the way back here to tell us where she went.’

Nicholas was thrilled. ‘Excellent work,’ he said, taking him by the shoulders. ‘Saddle a horse for me at once. I want it ready for when George returns. And find Lawrence’s horse as well. He’ll want to come with me to set Dick free.’

Richard Honeydew had resigned himself to spending a whole day in the stink and discomfort of the disused stable. The woman had given him breakfast and another meal at noon. To his profound embarrassment, she had released his
bonds so that he could relieve himself in the corner, any hope of escape removed by the fact that the man stood outside the door with a drawn sword. During the afternoon, the boy had been left alone, suffering from cramp and twisting his body into all kinds of shapes in order to ease it.

He could hear the traffic in the nearby thoroughfare but remained cruelly isolated from it. Hours seemed to pass. It was late afternoon when he finally heard footsteps, accompanied by the sound of a horse’s hooves. The stable door was open and his captors stepped inside. They were carrying leather bags.