Revenger

Chapter 19

T HE SERVANT HELD THE PAIL FOR THE HORSE WHILE Shakespeare thirstily downed his beaker of ale. The old man looked at him like a dog that stands defiant though expecting to be whipped. Shakespeare put the empty beaker on the stone step at the front door.

“Do you have any thoughts about what happened, Mr. Dodsley?”

“Put a coin in my palm and I may tell you a thing or two.”

Shakespeare dug a groat from his purse and placed it in the skeletal hand. The retainer looked at it closely, polished it, and held it tight in his crabbed fist. “They haven’t paid me in a twelvemonth or more. All I get is my food and a palliasse with a dogswain cover. I am a serf to them and might as well be a horse for the way they treat me. Even the scraps off their table don’t amount to much. But I won’t be here much longer if I can find myself another position. Do you know of any gentleman seeking a serving-man, my lord?”

Shakespeare laughed. “I am no lord, Mr. Dodsley, and I know of no one to help you. But, pray, tell me about Amy. And the boy, what do you know of him?”

“Joe? I saw him around here, sneaking in like a fox after the hens. Didn’t worry me. I don’t blame the girl, especially knowing what they had planned for her.”

Shakespeare frowned. “And what did they have planned for her?”

“A marriage, of course. Did they not tell you? She was wed on the day she died. Folks say my master sold her to save himself from ruin and penury, sir.”

“And who did she marry?”

“Some rich cat’s bollocks of a Puritan. Mr. Winterberry. Can’t abide the sniveling man. But for a shilling I’ll pass you the name of one who’ll tell you everything you could wish to know about the whole hand-fasting business and the state of the family. Make it two and I’ll fix you with a meeting, sir.”

Shakespeare sighed in resignation and made a mental note to collect these expenses from Cecil. He fetched out a florin and handed it to the old man. “Well?”

Dodsley snatched the new coin greedily. “Her name is Miranda Salter, sir. She is coy, but she will talk with you, for she was most fond of Mistress Amy. On the way here, you will have ridden over a stone bridge across a stream. I will have her meet you there in an hour.”

The afternoon was wearing on. Shakespeare wondered whether he would be able to get home tonight, but he had to meet this girl. He rode slowly to the river, which was less than two miles away, and took the horse down to the water to drink, then allowed it to graze. She arrived promptly, walking briskly from the direction of Le Neve Manor. He guessed her to be sixteen or so. She lowered her head when she saw Shakespeare. Her hair and much of her face were covered by a common felt cap, and she wore the simple linen smock of a housemaid.

“Mistress Miranda?”

She nodded but did not speak.

“You know who I am and why I wish to speak with you?”

She nodded again and mumbled something, which he could not hear.

“Are you worried about being seen talking to me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I would like to see where the two bodies were found. Can you show me?”

She looked uneasy.

Shakespeare smiled reassuringly. “Is it near here?”

“In these woods, sir, by this stream-no more than quarter of a mile from here.”

“Well, walk with me there through the trees along the riverbank and we will not be seen.”

As they strolled slowly along the dry bank where the river itself would have flowed when swollen, he could see her at last under her cap. She was a plain girl with the fat cheeks of girlhood and a nose a little too big and bulbous to ever allow her to be pretty. He thought her gray eyes her best feature, shining bright and alert.

“Mr. Dodsley must have told you my name is Shakespeare. I am inquiring into the deaths of Amy and Joe. I believe you knew Amy well?”

“I was her maidservant, sir. But I like to think she was my friend, too, though she was gentry and I was a mere servant.” She spoke cautiously and quietly.

“What sort of girl was she?”

“She was small, sir, and very pretty. Everyone looked at her, men and women. Until these past few weeks she was full of life and laughter, but she became all amort once she learned what had been decided for her. I miss her terribly, sir.”

“She was betrothed, yes?”

“Against her will. To a man named Jacob Winterberry, a wealthy merchant. I shared her dismay, sir, for Mr. Winterberry was well named. Though it is not my place to say such things, I can no longer hold my tongue, sir. Not after what has happened.”

“In what way was he well named?”

“When he was about, it was as if a dark winter cloud was in the room, so gloomy and precise was his manner.”

“But why do you think this betrothal was arranged?”

“I do not know, sir. It does bewilder me. But perhaps it was the promise of gold. I do not know about such things.”

“And did you know the boy who died?”

“Joe, yes, of course I knew him.”

“Was he from these parts?”

Miranda laughed. “Joe Jaggard? No, he was not born hereabouts, sir, but he has been here plenty often. Up at the big house much of the time, with his master.”

“The big house?”

“Wanstead, sir. My lord of Essex’s great palace. Joe spent a lot of time there when he was collecting.”

“Collecting what, Miranda?”

“Why, money, sir, of course. That is what Amy told me, leastwise.”

“Have you heard the name McGunn?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you like Joe?”

Miranda lowered her head and seemed to redden.

“Well?”

“He was very handsome. And strong.”

“So you did like him?”

“I was a little frighted of him. More than a little, to tell the truth. So was Amy at first. Her parents didn’t like him at all. Sir Toby used to get very angry when he came to the house. He used to wave his hagbut around, threatening to blow his head off. Said he was to stay away from his daughter. Joe just laughed. Nothing scared Joe.”

“Was he ever violent?”

“Not that I saw, but I heard tell he would cut the knee or ankle strings of any man that crossed him or failed to pay their debts. That’s what they said in the village. But he never hurt Amy, sir. He wouldn’t. He was mad for her, wanted to marry her and run away. That was why Sir Toby and m’lady took against him so. There was much shouting.”

“Did Mr. Winterberry know of this young man?”

“I do not know, sir.”

“Were you at the wedding feast, Miranda?”

“Yes, sir. I was serving, sir.”

“And was Joe Jaggard there?”

“No, not at first. He was not supposed to be there. But then I did see him. I saw him in the shadows, beckoning