indeed be sincere. What I question is this voice of God.'
'I heard it plainly, sir.'
'But did it come from without or within?'
'Does that matter?'
'I believe so.'
'It is not for us to question God's mystery.'
'Nor yet to submit blindly to it.'
'That is blasphemy!'
'You have your convictions and I have mine.'
'Are you an atheist, sir?!' she cried.
Before he could reply, two figures appeared ahead of them on a chestnut stallion. A second horse was dragging a litter that had been fashioned out of some long, slender boughs. Lashed to the litter was a basket that everyone recognized immediately. Nicholas Bracewell was back. He brought the missing apprentice and the stolen costumes as well as Oliver Quilley's horse. A cheer went up horn the whole company as they hurried towards their hero.
The newcomers were soon enveloped by friends and bombarded with questions. Eleanor Budden gazed down on her beloved and called his name. Barnaby Gill demanded to know if his golden doublet was unharmed. Edmund Hoode asked if they knew who had played his part of Sicinius. Martin Yeo, Stephen Judd and John Tallis hailed their fellow-apprentice with an enthusiasm that bordered on hysteria. Susan Becket chicked excitedly. George Dart was able to join the Merry Men once more.
Lawrence Firethorn waved them all into silence with an imperious arm and called for full details. Though they looked tattered and travel-weary, the two companions had washed themselves off in a spring and found that their injuries were only minor. Reunion with their fellows put new strength and spirit into them. 'Who kidnapped the lad?' asked Firethorn.
'Banbury's Men.' said Nicholas.
'Scurvy knaves! We'll have them in court for this!'
'There are other ways to get even, sir.'
'And the costumes, Nick?'
'Taken by the same hands.'
'Where did you find my horse?' said Quilley.
'That was providential.'
Nicholas told him the story and gained fresh looks of adoration from Eleanor Budden. When he talked of putting four men to flight--and did so in such modest terms--Susan Becket also experienced a flutter. The female response was not lost on Firethorn who sought to divert some of their admiring glances his way.
'By heavens!' he roared, pulling out his sword and holding it in the air. 'I'll put so many holes in the hide of Giles Randolph that he'll whistle when he walks across the stage! I'll challenge him to a duel and cut the varlet down to size! I'll make him pay for every crime he has committed against us. Hang him, the rogue!'
'Worry not about Master Randolph,' said Nicholas.
'Frogspawn in human shape!'
'He has problems enough of his own.'
'Prison is too good for such a wretch!' yelled Firethorn. 'He dared to steal Pompey the Great?'
'My play,' said Hoode. 'My part of Sicinius.'
'They will not perform it again, Edmund.'
'How can you be so certain, Nick?'
'Because we have stopped them.' He winked at his companion. 'Show them, Dick.'
The boy ran across to the costume basket and threw back its lid to draw out a pile of plays. He read out their titles to a delighted audience.
'Cupid's Folly. Two Maids of Milchester. Double Deceit. Marriage and Mischief. Pompey the Great?
'All returned where they belong,' said Nicholas. 'They cannot stage our plays without these prompt books.'
'By all, this is wonderful!' shouted Firethorn. 'Let me embrace you both, my lovely imps!'
He dismounted and put a congratulatory arm around each. The worst night of his life was being redeemed by one of the best days. Nicholas added even more joy.
'Time brings in its revenges, sir.'
'What do you mean?'
'Master Randolph will not laugh this morning.'
'Did you strike a blow for Westfield's Men.'
'I think so,' said Nicholas.
Giles Randolph stared at the empty chest with a mixture of fear and dismay. It had been stored all night beneath his fourposter and chained to one of the legs. Its lock was strong and apparently undamaged yet the treasure chest was bare. The company's most priceless possessions had gone. Randolph screeched a name and Mark Scruton came running. One glance made the newcomer turn white.
'When did you discover this, sir?'
'Even now.'
'You did not open the chest last night?'
'The journey back from Lavery Grange was too tiring and much wine had been taken. I fell into bed and slept soundly until this morning.' Randolph kicked at the empty chest. 'Had I known of this, I'd not have closed my eyes!'
Mark Scruton thought quickly then glanced towards the door. Beckoning the other to follow, he ran out of the bedchamber and down the stairs, making for the door that led to the yard. With Randolph at his heels, he hurried across to the outhouse beyond the stables and wondered why one of its walls was damaged. He unbolted the door and flung it open to reveal a sight that might have been comical in other circumstances. The stocky ostler was bound hand and foot and tied to the bars at the window. A large apple had been placed in his mouth and held in place by a strip of material that was knotted behind his head. His eyes were as red and bulbous as tomatoes.
'Where are they?' demanded Scruton.
The man shook his head and hunched his shoulders.
Giles Randolph let out a howl and kneeled down. In the middle of the straw was a pile of prompt books that were caked in manure and sodden with water. The symbolism was not lost on him. Rising up in sheer disgust, he jabbed a shaking finger at his vandalized property.
'Mark Scruton!' he hissed.
'Yes, sir?'
'This is your doing.'
'A thousand apologies.'
'Clean up your mess!'
He left the scene of the outrage in high dudgeon.
The blacksmith hammered in the last nail then lowered the hoof to the ground. He wiped his brow with a hairy arm and turned to the full-bodied woman who held the bridle.
'Take more care with the animal, Mistress.'
'I have not the time, sir.'
'He was ridden too hard over rough ground,' said the blacksmith. 'That is why he cast a shoe.'
He may cast more then before we arrive.
'Where do you go?'
'To York.'
'It is a goodly distance yet, Mistress.'
'Then do not detain us with your prattle.'
Margery Firethorn put a foot in the stirrup and hauled herself up into the saddle without asking for any assistance. An imperious snap of the fingers brought one of the liveried servants scuttling across to her.
