his first real break from the action, he sidled across to Nicholas for elucidation.
'Well?'
'I was falsely imprisoned for assault and battery.'
'How?'
'Two men attacked me. A third brought constables and swore that I was the malefactor. My word did not hold against theirs.'
'Rakehells! Who were they?'
'I mean to find out.'
'But how did you obtain release?'
'I bribed an officer to take a message to Mistress Firethorn.'
'Why to my wife and not to me?' said the other peevishly.
'You had enough to do here, sir,' said Nicholas tactfully. 'Besides, I knew that your good lady would move with purpose.'
'Oh yes!' groaned Firethorn. 'Margery does that, sir!'
'Did I hear my name, Lawrence?' she asked, coming over.
'I was singing your praises, sweeting.'
'And so you should, sir,' she said bluntly. 'The message reached me in Shoreditch well after noon. That left me little time and much to do within it. My first thought was to repair to the Counter in Wood Street and demand that Nicholas be handed over to me, but I reasoned that not even my writ would run there.'
Firethorn made a mental note of a possible future refuge.
'The message urged me to contact your patron,' she continued, 'so I flew hither and was told he was too busy to see me. That was no obstacle to me, sir. My business was imperative and so I forced my way into Lord Westfield's presence. When he recognised who I was, he praised my appearance and asked why I did not visit the theatre more often.'
'Keep to the point, woman!' said her husband.
Nicholas interrupted to wave four soldiers on to the stage and then to cue in a canon that had to be rolled out from the tiring-house.
Margery returned to her tale with undiminished zest.
'I had caught him just in time for Lord Westfield was about to depart for the country. Hearing of our problem and rightly judging its serious effect on the company, he wrote a letter in his own hand there and then. With a man of his for company, I was driven to the Counter in his coach and that could not but impress the prison sergeant. When he read the letter, he did not hesitate to obey its command. Nicholas was delivered within a matter of minutes. We hastened here and you know the rest.' She broke off to watch some actors stripping off their costumes. 'I had not thought that Master Smythe had such comical haunches.'
She drifted off to view the spectacle from a better angle.
'We have been fortunate, Nick,' said Firethorn.
'I know it well.'
'But why were you imprisoned in the first place?'
'To keep me from holding the book here, master.'
'A vile conspiracy!'
'Which landed me in a vile lodging.'
'It has the stink of Banbury's Men about it.'
'No, master, I'm convinced of that.'
'But someone wants to damage the company.'
'Not the company,' said Nicholas. 'Lord Westfield himself.'
Before Firethorn could react to the news, the book holder cued him and the actor tore on to the stage to challenge one of his intended victims to a duel. After he had dispatched the man with the poisoned tip of his sword, he shared his thoughts with the audience before he withdrew again. Nicholas sent on actors for the next scene and resumed his conversation.
'I see it plain now, master.'
'Our patron is the target?'
'Without question.'
'But it was we who suffered the attacks, Nick.'
'Only when Lord Westfield was present,' said the other. 'He was here when we first performed The Merry Devils. He was at The Curtain for Cupid's Folly and he joined us at The Rose. On each occasion, someone tried to discredit us in order to hurt him.'
'I begin to see your point, sir.'
'There was no trouble during The Knights of Malta or Love and Fortune. Our patron was not here in person to be embarrassed. That is why his enemies stayed their hand.'
'But he is not here today either.'
'It does not matter,' argued Nicholas. 'The attack is not through the play itself. We'll have no devil or falling maypole or unexpected death. Lord Westfield's enemies had failed three times already and were angry at their failure. They sought a new approach.'
'To disable the book holder.'
'That would not stop the performance-which was the intention in the other three cases-but it might impair the quality and that would reflect badly on our patron.'
Firethorn was impressed and punched him softly.
'You did some thinking in that prison, sir.'
'I'd choose more fragrant places for my contemplation.'
'You'll be in one tonight unless I'm mistaken,' said the other with a roguish grin. 'Mistress Hendrik came looking for you. When she sees that bruise on your face, I'm sure she'll make you lie down so that she can tend it properly.' He cocked an ear to listen to the action on stage. 'Why did such a beautiful Englishwoman marry such a boring Dutchman?'
'That has never come up in conversation.'
Firethorn stifled his mirth so that it would not distract.
'The Counter was a grim experience,' said Nicholas, 'but it gave me one valuable piece of information.'
Firethorn made another entry to stab a rival in the back and deliver a soliloquy of thirty lines while straddling the corpse. He sauntered off to applause then shook the Venetian court away to turn once more to his book holder.
'Valuable information, you say?'
'I know where to find our merry devil.'
*
Francis Jordan lay on the bed with a glass of fine wine beside him. It was a warm evening and the casements were open to let in the cooling air and the curious moon. He was naked beneath a gown of blue and white silk that shimmered in the light from the candelabra on the bedside table. Everything was in order for his tryst with Jane Skinner. The room had been filled with vases of flowers and a second goblet stood beside the wine bottle. He felt languid and sensual.
The clock struck ten then there was a timid knock on the door. She was a punctual lover and that suggested enthusiasm. Jordan was pleased. He rolled over on his side.
'Come in!' he called.
Jane entered quickly, closed the door behind her and locked it. He did not see that she withdrew the key to hold it behind her back.
'Welcome!' he said and toasted her with his goblet.
'Thank you, sir.'
'I want you to enjoy this, Jane.'
He appraised her with satisfaction. She wore a long white robe over a plain white shift and had a mob cap on her head. Her feet were bare. Even with its worried frown, the face had warmth to it and there was a country succulence about her body which roused him at once.
Did my brother ever bring you to his bedchamber?
