Edward Marston - The Silent Woman

As the pandemonium faded, Firethorn brought his company gambolling offstage and the tiring-house became a mass of excited bodies. The players changed quickly out of their costumes and adjourned to the taproom. Good-natured banter enlivened the air for hours and Marwood’s ale was consumed in vast quantities. Edmund Hoode was among the last to leave the inn. As he walked away from the Queen’s Head, he looped an arm around the shoulders of Nicholas Bracewell.

‘We are safely back in port now, Nick.’

‘And glad to be so.’

‘Those whom we left behind are now back in the company. Westfield’s Men are whole again. London has been left in no doubt about that.’

Hoode waited until they were well clear of the inn then he nudged his friend. He wanted a mystery to be at last unravelled.

‘What was it really that took you away from us?’

‘It is too long and twisting a tale, Edmund.’

‘I have all night to listen.’ He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘Come, Nick, you can tell me. We have no secrets from each other. You talked of your father and he sounded a merchant to his toes. But he was not the reason that you went to Barnstaple, was he?’

‘No, he was not. You read the signs aright.’

‘I smell romance here.’

‘It cannot be denied.’

‘You had a silent woman down in Devon.’

‘I blush to own it but you speak the truth.’

‘Who was she, man? Tell me but her name.’

Nicholas Bracewell smiled wryly. There had been a number of silent women involved. Susan Deakin had been a mute messenger who set him off on his journey. Lucy Whetcombe was speechless by nature. Mary Whetcombe was a silent woman who spoke out of his past, as did Margaret Hurrell. While he was away from her, Anne Hendrik had been a silent woman as well, and he had foolishly taken her silence to be a form of consent. Silence of another kind had helped to still the deafening ambition of Gideon Livermore, who had drowned himself in the River Taw, a name that meant ‘silent one’. Nicholas Bracewell had been surrounded by silence.

There was one more soundless female to add to the list.

‘Well, Nick,’ said Hoode. ‘Give me her name.’

‘ Mary .’

‘A pretty name. Where did the lady reside?’

‘Upon the river.’

Hoode was puzzled. ‘You have a floating mistress?’

‘She lies at anchor.’

‘Did you board her then?’

‘Only to break another long-kept silence.’

‘What strange lady is this Mary?’

‘A ship,’ said Nicholas. ‘ She was the real cause of my visit to Barnstaple. A merchant vessel of a hundred tons. I tell you, Edmund, she could drive a man insane with lust. My duty was to protect her honour. The Mary was my silent woman.’