Edward Marston - The Princess of Denmark

‘Yes,’ said Harling, his thin smile warning them that he was about to make a rare jest. ‘When Erik of Pomerania first imposed harbour dues, the toll was paid in gold. It was one English noble.’ He gave a brittle laugh. ‘The only English noble aboard is Lord Westfield.’

Their good fortune soon deserted them. After a couple of hours of relative calm, the Cormorant ran into choppier water. The wind gusted, the skies darkened and the ship began to heave much more. Most of the actors began to feel queasy and only a gallant few had the courage to stay on deck. The others went below and huddled together, their gaze fixed immovably on a wooden bucket in case they have need of it. Informed that a woman was travelling with the company, Lord Westfield kindly invited Anne Hendrik to share his cabin for a while and, with a storm brewing, Nicholas Bracewell insisted that she take advantage of the offer. The book holder was interested to hear her opinion of Rolfe Harling.

Nicholas remained steadfastly on deck and so, improbably, did Owen Elias. Clutching the bulwark to steady himself, the Welshman was talking to James Ingram. Nicholas adjusted his feet to the roll of the ship and went over to them.

‘I would have thought you’d be sleeping below by now, Owen,’ he said. ‘You need rest.’

‘I cannot settle if I lie down,’ complained Elias. ‘Strange as it may seem, I find it easier to stand up.’

‘You’ll not find it easier for much longer.’

‘Why not?’

‘There’s a squall coming. Stay on deck and you’ll be soaked.’

‘Yes,’ said Ingram, looking up at the sky. ‘Those clouds are ominous. When the rain comes, I’ll join the others.’

‘How do you feel now?’ asked Nicholas, taking an inventory of Elias’s injuries. ‘Are you still in pain?’

‘Every part about me throbs or aches, Nick,’ replied the other, ‘but it’s my pride that hurts the most. I was so careless.’

‘Careless?’ repeated Ingram.

‘I should have heard those two villains coming up behind me.’

‘Your mind was elsewhere.’

‘It was, James, and that’s another thing that rankles. I’d made assignations. Three lovely women were expecting me to call. When I think of what I missed last night,’ he went on, ‘I shudder at my loss. If only I had not gone to the Dutch Churchyard with you, Nick.’

‘That was a separate venture,’ said Nicholas.

‘No,’ said Elias. ‘I was punished for my part in the capture.’

‘Then why was I left unharmed? For it was I who laid rough hands on the man we caught. If his friends wanted recompense, they would have come after me.’

‘I side with Nick,’ said Ingram. ‘His argument is sound.’

‘Then who gave me these injuries?’ demanded Elias, indicating his face. ‘Tell me that, James. Who attacked me?’

‘Enemies.’

‘I have no enemies.’

‘I can think of some.’

‘Who?’

‘A certain husband, for a start,’ said Ingram. ‘When you left us at the Black Horse last night, you told us that you first intended to visit a married woman whose husband was away from London.’

‘He was — he had business in Norwich.’

‘Perhaps he had qualms about leaving his wife behind.’

Elias cackled heartily. ‘With good cause!’

‘What better way to ensure his wife’s fidelity than to have her lover cudgelled by ruffians? You were found out, Owen.’

‘Never — I’ve had too much practise at the game.’

‘Well, someone took offence at you.’

‘It was those rogues who penned verses against strangers.’

‘They would not even know your name,’ contended Nicholas, ‘still less where to find you. There is another explanation here and, seeing the pair of you together, I began to spy it. Cast your minds back to the night of the fire at the Queen’s Head.’

‘I try not to think about that,’ said Ingram.

‘This is important, James. You and Owen were left alone with Will Dunmow, were you not?’

‘Yes. He took a room at the inn. We put him to bed. After we left him there, I went straight back to my lodging.’

‘I did not,’ said Elias with a grin. ‘Beth’s husband was away from the city that night as well.’

‘The fact is,’ said Nicholas, ‘that you were the last people to see him alive. Owen confessed as much to Anthony Rooker.’

‘Why should I deny it? We did nothing wrong.’

‘You did in the landlord’s eyes.’

‘Ignore that scurvy knave.’

‘He believes that you left the candle burning there.’

‘Owen snuffed it out,’ said Ingram. ‘I saw him.’

‘I’m sure that you did but the landlord does not believe you. It’s possible that Will Dunmow’s father might not believe you either.’

‘What does he have to do with this?’

‘Everything,’ said Nicholas. ‘His only son is sent to London on his behalf and he dies in a fire. Any father would want to know how.’

‘He would have listened to Master Rooker’s report.’

‘Yes,’ said Elias. ‘The father did not even come anywhere near us. Anthony Rooker travelled to York and delivered Will’s body. He must have been buried some time ago.’

‘Grief plays strange tricks on a man’s mind.’

‘What do you mean, Nick?’

‘Only this — the father might have been moved to rage. Think how he must have felt when he looked inside the coffin.’

‘I warned him against doing that through Master Rooker.’

‘What father would heed such advice?’ asked Nicholas. ‘I know that I would not. It was a terrible sight to behold. It must have filled him with blind anger. Will told you that his father could be violent.’

‘He had no reason to use violence against Owen,’ said Ingram. ‘We helped his son. We looked after him.’

‘You both know that, James — he does not. All that the father has been told is that his son got drunk in the company of actors, and that you were the two people who caroused with him to the very end. My suspicion is that the father will be deeply hurt, bereaved and desperate for someone to blame.’

‘Will was the true culprit,’ said Elias sadly. ‘There’s no other explanation. He must have started the fire with that pipe of his.’

‘His father may not accept that. He will blame you.’

‘Even though we took such care of his son?’

‘What he knows is that a group of people got his son so completely drunk that Will had to be put to bed. The only details he will have came from Master Rooker — and where did he get them from?’

‘Me,’ said Elias.

‘So yours is the name he will recognise,’ said Nicholas. ‘From everything I’ve heard about the father, he does not sound as if he would let such a serious matter pass lightly. According to Will, he was strict, unloving and possessed of a temper.’ As the sky darkened even more above him, he reached his conclusion. ‘I begin to wonder if you were not the victim of that temper, Owen.’

‘Denmark!’ exclaimed Isaac Dunmow.

‘That’s what I’ve been told. They sailed this very morning.’

‘And did Owen Elias go with them?’

‘I should think so.’

‘Death and damnation!’

When he called at the inn, Dunmow found the landlord in the yard, staring in consternation at the huge gap where part of his premises had once stood. Alexander Marwood was still exercised by the thought that he was on the brink of ruin. With the loss of his stables, he could no longer keep horses at livery for travellers who came to the city. Since eight rooms had been destroyed, the number of guests who could stay at the Queen’s Head had been almost halved. With no plays being performed in the yard, a major part of his custom had vanished. As a result, the steady flow of income had turned into a mere trickle. It made him quiver with apprehension and a nervous twitch attacked three distinct areas of his face so that his eyelid, his cheek and his lip trembled uncontrollably in unison.