an artist and now a self-proclaimed visionary accompany them on their travels. Lawrence Firethorn persuaded himself that both decisions were the right ones.
'You will not forget the money, good Mistress.'
'I will bring it with me.'
'And there will be no dispute with your husband?' , 'He will not stop me, sir.'
'Then I am content.'
'And I am truly bounden to you, Master Firethorn.'
She curtseyed again and allowed him another view of the delights which had finally changed his mind. Eleanor Budden was indeed a gorgeous woman and her religious fervour only served to bring out her qualities. He loved the smoothness of her skin and the roundness of her face and the appealing curves of her body. After dismissing her plea out of hand at first, he had listened to her gentle tenacity and feasted his eyes on her long hair. The combination of the two had made him think again.
Firethorn sought to clarify their relationship.
'There will be certain conditions, Mistress.'
'I submit to anything that you devise, sir.'
'Would that you did!' he murmured.
'What must I do?'
'Refrain from interference with our calling. We will be your shield on the road but we must have freedom to practise our art along the way. You must not hinder us in rehearsal or performance in any way.'
'Nor will I, sir. I'll spend my time in prayer.'
'We might find other things for you.'
'I need none.'
The simplicity of her purpose was quite moving. At the same time, he could not accept that it would sustain her all the way to York and certainly not to Jerusalem itself. Eleanor Budden had never been more than ten miles from Nottingham in the whole of her life and that had been in the company of her husband. She would find the long ride to York both irksome and perilous, causing her to turn increasingly to Firethorn for support. The idea titillated him. He had never corrupted a saint before.
'And shall I see Master Bracewell?' she asked.
'Every day. You'll ride beside him on the waggon.'
'My cup of joy runs over!'
'Haply, mine will do so as well.'
He bestowed another kiss on her hand then escorted her to the door of the inn. She waved in gratitude then flitted off over the cobbles. Firethorn chuckled to himself then went into the taproom to acquaint Barnaby Gill and Edmund Hoode with the latest development. They were antagonistic.
'This is lunacy!' yelled Gill. 'I forbid it!'
'It is less than wise, Lawrence,' said Hoode.
'The venture brings us money and companionship.'
'Who wants her companionship?' retorted Gill. 'Let her keep her money and distribute it as alms. We are actors here, not bodyguards for hire by anyone. Our only privilege is our freedom and you throw that away by inviting some Virgin Mary to sit in judgement on us.'
'She's no Virgin Mary,' said Firethorn quickly.
'The lady is a distraction,' said Hoode. 'She has no place alongside us. Nor does Master Oliver Quilley. They should find some other means to travel north.'
Firethorn did his best to win them over but they were unconvinced. As a last resort, he knew that he could impose his will upon them but wished to avoid doing that if at all possible. Their acceptance was important. He wanted to be seen by Eleanor Budden as the leader of a company who studied to obey his every wish, and not as some petty tyrant who bullied the others into agreement.
His two colleagues left with stern warnings.
'I set my face against this, Lawrence!' said Gill.
'It will not improve your complexion.'
'I am with Barnaby,' said Hoode. 'You have made a move here that will bring us nothing but awkwardness.'
The two of them went out and Firethorn was left to mull over what they had said. He was not dismayed. They always objected to his ideas. It was simply a question of giving them time to grow accustomed to the notion. When they saw what a harmless woman Eleanor Budden was, they would alter their views. Firethorn was pleased with the new transaction. He called for a pint of sherry.
He was taking his first sip when she appeared.
'I hoped to find you here, sir.' V 'Susan, my dove! Sit down and take your ease.'
'I come to inform you of my decision,' she said with a broad grin, lowering herself down into a chair. 'Your lonely nights are over, Lawrence.'
'Prove it lustily between the sheets.'
'So will I do, sir.'
'You are man's greatest comfort, Susan.'
'That is why I will not desert you now.'
'Bless you, lady!'
'Master Gill made up my mind for me.'
'Barnaby?'
'He told me even now of Mistress Budden.'
'Ah, yes,' he said dismissively. 'A holy woman who hears the voice of God, A poor, distracted creature on whom a Christian must take pity.'
'Is she young or old?'
'Ancient, I fear. And so ill-favoured that a man can scarce look fully upon her. That is the only reason I took her. Mistress Budden will be no temptation to the goatish members of my company.'
Susan Becket's eyes twinkled merrily.
'I saw the lady leave you. If she be ancient, then I am dead and buried this last ten-year. She has a bloom upon her that could seduce a bishop.'
'How came I to miss such a quality?'
'Because your mind was firmly on me, Lawrence.'
'Indeed, indeed,' he fawned.
'That is why I reached my decision. Mistress Budden is a child of nature and innocence sits upon her. I'll be a true mother to her and keep those goats from grazing on her pasture. She'll thank me well for it.'
'I do not understand your meaning, Susan.'
'Your warming-pan comes with you, sir.'
'All the way?' he said anxiously.
'Every last inch.'
'I could not put you to the trouble.'
'It is my pleasure.'
Her smile of easy determination fractured all his plans for the journey. Susan Becket was an old flame he had intended to blow out in Nottingham but she had now rekindled herself. Lawrence Firethorn could not hide his chagrin. He was taking one woman too many to York.
The pint of sherry was guzzled quickly down.
Sir Clarence Marmion strolled through his garden with his soberly-clad companion by his side. Large, formal and a blaze of colour, it was a tribute to the skill and hard work of his gardeners, but their master was not interested in their craft that morning. His mind was preoccupied with something of more immediate concern.
'He would yield up no names.'
'Are you sure that he knew any?'
'No question about that, sir.'
'Did you press him on the matter?'
