Simon Hawke - The Merchant of Vengeance

“Nay, she had gone home to her husband yester-night,” Elizabeth replied, “after we had failed to find Thomas.”

“So then you never went to his room across the street from Leffingwell’s?”

She shook her head. “There was no reason, as Master Leffingwell had said he was not there.” She shuddered. “Thank God we had not gone there. Then we should have found him slain.”

“A sad business, indeed,” said Smythe. “I wonder if they have arrested Henry Mayhew?”

“Do you suppose he did it?” Elizabeth asked.

Smythe shook his head. “I do not know. what sort of man is he?”

“Well.. I should not think he was the sort who would be capable of murder,” Elizabeth replied, “bur then one never truly knows, does one?”

“Nay, one does not,” Smythe agreed. “If there is one thing I have learned, Elizabeth, ‘tis that most any man could be capable of murder, given the right circumstances and the provocation.”

“Even you?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Aye, even me,” he said. “In truth, I can imagine certain circumstances that could drive me to it, such as if some villain were to harm… someone that I cared about.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘“You mean Will?” she asked, in a slightly mocking tone.

“Well, Will is my closest friend,” he said, a little awkwardly. “But I can think. of others on whose behalf I might be moved to some act of violence, if the occasion warranted.”

“If the occasion warranted,” she repeated. “Aye, there’s the rub, indeed. Who is to say what sort of occasion may warrant such a deed? You? Or I? Or Portia’s father? If he believed that his daughter had been disgraced or, worse yet, defiled, might he not consider that an occasion which warranted an act of violence? Or even murder?”

“I suppose that would depend upon what he believed may have occurred and how strongly he detested Jews,” he replied. “Strangely enough, come to think of it, ‘twas the desire to learn more about the Jews that started all of this.”

“Indeed?” Elizabeth asked with a slight frown. “How so?”

Briefly, Smythe explained to her how he and Will had met with Robert Greene and how that, in turn, had led to the discussion of Marlowe’s Jew of Malta) which Shakespeare had deter-mined to surpass.

“So that was why you went to see Ben Dickens?” asked Elizabeth. “So that Will could find out if he knew any Jews?”

“Aye,” said Smythe. “Ben is the most well-travelled person that we know, and we supposed perhaps he might have met some in his soldiering days. Little did we suspect that we were about to meet one in the flesh.” He frowned. “Although I must admit, the thought of Thomas being a Jew did not impress itself upon my mind especially, save that he had mentioned it as being the reason for his troubles. Otherwise, he seemed much like any other man.”

“Why would he not?” she asked.

“‘Well, in truth, I do not know,” Smythe said. “But he was nothing at all like Marlowe’s evil villain. He seemed a decent enough fellow, and struck me as no different from any other Englishman.”

“Did you expect him to be different somehow?”

Smythe shook his head. “I do not know that I expected anything, in truth, having never met a Jew. Perhaps I had expected that a Jew would look different somehow, more like Marlowe’s Barabas, I do not rightly know. But then, Thomas Locke’s father is an Englishman.”

“And so is he,” Elizabeth replied. “Or, I should say, was he,” she added sadly. “Did he not go to church? I seem to recall Portia telling me that they had gone together.”

Smythe nodded. “Aye, since you mention it, I recall he did say so. Thomas told us that he had been raised in his father’s faith, and not his mother’s. Was that not the only way a Jew could have remained in England?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I truly know nothing of such things. But from what I understood from Portia, ‘twould make no difference to her father yea or nay. Once he had discovered that Thomas’s mother was a Jewess, then that made Thomas a Jew, as well, even by the standards of his own people.”

“Curious. I wonder how Mayhew would have known that,” Smythe said. “And how did he happen to discover that Thomas’s mother was a Jewess?”

“Portia made no mention of it,” Elizabeth replied. “But ‘tis an interesting question, I must say. Unless he had found out from Thomas.”

“‘Why would Thomas even mention it, especially to Mayhew?” asked Smythe. “Knowing that Jews had been barred from England since King Edward’s time, one would think ’twould be the last thing he would do.”

Elizabeth glanced at him. “You have become all caught up in this, I see.”

“And you have not?”

“To the extent that Portia is my friend, I have,” she replied. “But for me, it ends with my concern for her. Not so with you, however.”

“Well, as I told you, I feel at least in part responsible for what has happened,” he replied.

“And as I have told you, even had you not spoken with Thomas at all, he still would have at least considered an elopement, if not purely on his own, then certainly after Portia told him that she was willing to run off with him.”

“Except by that time, he would already have been dead,” said Smythe. “‘Tis the timing of it all that troubles me. Like a hungry dog that worries at a bone, I cannot seem to let it go. Did Portia happen to mention if Thomas had any other enemies? Perhaps someone with whom he may have quarrelled of late?”

Elizabeth frowned, thinking for a moment, then shook her head. “Nay, I do not think she mentioned Thomas having any enemies. Of course, that does not mean he did not have them. Are you thinking that Henry Mayhew may not have been the one who did it?”

“Well, ‘twould seem unlikely he would have done it by himself,” said Smythe. “He could have hired someone and had it done, which would not have been very difficult at all.” He glanced around. “We could probably find men willing to perform such work right here. And yet, the more I dwell upon it, the more it troubles me, Elizabeth. I do not think. Mayhew could have acted so quickly to have had it done within so brief a span of time.”

“Unless he had already planned to do it earlier,” Elizabeth replied.

“‘Tis possible,” said Smythe, nodding as he considered it.

“And yet, methinks ‘twould seem unlikely.”

“Why so?” she asked.

“Consider this,” he said. “Mayhew discovered somehow that Thomas was a Jew, and let us not trouble for the moment about how he happened to come by this knowledge, although that is a point which puzzles me considerably. We shall assume, for the moment, that he was outraged and infuriated by this knowledge to the point where he was willing to commit murder, or else hire someone else to do it. Well then, why not simply go ahead and have it done? ”Why bother formally withdrawing his permission for the marriage? Why bother saying anything at all, to Portia or to Thomas or to anyone, for that matter, Would it not have been simpler by far for him to have poor Thomas killed, and then feign ignorance and commiserate with his daughter over the terrible tragedy that had occurred? In that event, would anyone have seen any reason at all to tie him in with it? Assuming that he was not an utter fool, which he could not have been, else he would not have made such a success in business, then would he not have found such a course much more expedient?“

“Indeed, ‘twould seem so,” Elizabeth replied, after considering it a moment. “So then, why did he not do so?”

“Perhaps,” said Smythe, “because he was not the one who did it.”

“But… if that is true…” Elizabeth began with a worried frown.