Simon Hawke - The Merchant of Vengeance

“She was upset when she arrived?”

“Very much so,” said Antonia. “She was in tears and most distraught.”

“Because her father had withdrawn his consent for her to marry Thomas?”

Anconia nodded. “Aye, that is so.”

“And did she say why?”

Antonia nodded again. “Because Thomas’s mother was a Jewess.”

Mayhew shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Why did she come to Elizabeth Darcie’s house?”

“Because Elizabeth was her friend, and she was distressed and in great need of a friend.”

“Whose idea was it in the first place that Porcia should elope with Thomas?”

“‘Twas Elizabeth who had suggested it,” Antonia replied. “And what did you think of this idea?”

“Well… I thought ‘twas rather ill advised, to be honest.”

“Indeed? You did not find it… romantic?”

“I found it rather foolish, if you must know,” said Antonia.

“Of course, I did not say so at the time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I did not wish to seem lacking in sympathy. Portia was very much upset, and I did not wish to make matters any worse for her.”

“I see,” said Shakespeare. “‘Twas most considerate of you. Why did you believe that the elopement would be ill advised?”

“Because if she and Thomas were to have run away together, they would afterwards have been penniless,” Anconia said. “How would they have lived? What would have become of her? Would she have been forced to find work as a laundress or a serving wench? What sort of life would that have been for the daughter of a gentleman?”.

“A life with the man she loved, perhaps,” said Shakespeare.

“Some may find contentment in such a life. Others may have greater needs. Your husband is a very wealthy man, I undersrand, is that not so?”

“Harry has been very successful in his life,” Antonia replied.

‘We are very comfortable.“

“He is also a good many years older than you, is that not so?”

“Aye. But why do you ask? ‘Tis not unusual for men to marry women younger than themselves.”

“Nay, ‘tis not, indeed,” said Shakespeare. He glanced back toward where Smythe stood together with the men who had come back with him. Smythe gave him an emphatic nod. “Especially wealthy gentlemen,” he added. “An older man, well settled in his life and in his habits, can certainly provide a secure and comfortable life for a beautiful young woman. But if he is much older, he may not be able to provide everything that a beautiful young woman may desire, is that not so?”

Antonia frowned. “I am not sure what you mean.”

“I mean that a beautiful young woman like yourself, married to a man many years her senior, may not be able to have all of her desires met. She may have certain needs that he cannot, by virtue of his age, fulfill, is that not so?”

Antonia stiffened. “Your comments are impertinent, sir.”

“Ah, well, I would suggest to you that my comments are most pertinent, indeed,” said Shakespeare. “Have you ever had a lover, Mistress Morrison?”

“You are a bounder, a lout, and a scoundrel, sir,” she replied.

“How dare you?”

Elizabeth held her breath.

“What if I were to tell you, Mistress Morrison, that I happen to know that you are an adulteress?”

She rose to her feet, her hands clenched into fists. “Then I would call you an impudent rascal and a villainous liar!”

“So then you deny that you were having an affair with Thomas Locke?”

Elizabeth gasped. Winifred stared, open-mouthed. And Portia sat stiffly, her gaze fixed upon Antonia unwaveringly.

“Of course, I deny it, you worm! I told you that I did not even know him!”

“You had never met him?”

“Never!”

“I would ask you to look upon these two men,” said Shakespeare, beckoning to Smythe, who came forward with two burly fellows. “Have you ever seen either of these two men before?”

Antonia glanced toward them contemptuously and looked away. “I have never laid eyes upon them.”

“Ah, but they have laid eyes upon you,” said Shakespeare.

“Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to tell this court your names?”

“My name is Evan Drury,” said one of the two men, stepping forward.

“And mine is Ian Davies,” said the other.

“And what is your occupation?” Shakespeare asked.

“We are paid to act as guards in the street where Master Leffingwell, the tailor, Master Jefferies, the mercer, and Masters Hollowell and Jennings, the silk merchants, have their shops,” said Drury.

Antonia turned pale.

“Have you ever seen this woman before” asked Shakespeare. “Aye, many times,” said Davies.

“Where did you see her?”

“In the street where we are paid to sit and guard the shops,” said Drury.

“Specifically, in what circumstances did you see her?”

“She often went to visit the young gentleman who lived above Master Jefferies’s shop,” said Drury.

“This would be Thomas Locke?” asked Shakespeare.

“Aye, sir. We saw them together upon more than one occasion,” Davies said.

“And did they seem as if they knew one another?”

“Oh, I would say they knew one another very well, indeed, sir,” Davies replied with a smirk.

“So you would also say that they most likely knew one another often?” Shakespeare asked.

“I would venture to say they did, sir,” Davies replied, grinning.

“I would venture to say so, indeed.”

The reaction of the audience was instantaneous and tumultuous. Locke hammered away upon the table repeatedly, trying to restore order. Antonia stood absolutely motionless, white as a ghost. Elizabeth simply sat there, numbly shaking her head with disbelief. Winifred was speechless.

“Lies!” screamed Antonia, her voice rising above the din. “Lies.!

Lies.! Foul lies! These men have been paid to lie about me!“

“Silence.!” Locke shouted, hammering upon the table again and again. “Silence I say.!”

“I call Portia Mayhew!” said Shakespeare.

Slowly, Portia stood. For a moment, she and Antonia simply stared at one another. The room became very still. Shakespeare turned his back upon Antonia and came over toward Portia.

“When did you learn that Thomas and Antonia were lovers?” he asked her gently.

She kept her gaze firmly fixed upon Antonia. ‘The day he told me that she was pregnant with his child,“ she replied. She winced and brought her hand up to touch her ear.

“And what day was that?” asked Shakespeare.

“The day I killed him,” she replied softly. She winced once more and shook her head several times.

There was a collective gasp in the room.

“Oh, my God,” Elizabeth murmured.

Mayhew turned to face his daughter with astonished disbelief.

“Nay, it cannot be!” he said.

“Tell us what happened, Portia,” Shakespeare said. “Please.”

“He confessed to me that he and Antonia had been lovers,” she replied in a flat tone. “He said that she had seduced him, and that he had not been able to resist. He begged for my forgiveness and said that he was weak.”

Once more, she winced, as if with pain, and touched her ears. “He said that a man had needs… and then he told me that Antonia was pregnant with his child, and had threatened to tell my father unless he helped her to be rid of it. So he took her to see a cunning woman, and obtained for her a brew of pennyroyal and mugwort that would banish the child before it quickened…

She bit her lower lip and shook her head once more, wincing as if with pain.

“And then he told me that it was finished with Antonia and that it did not matter, but that all the trouble he had gone to would be in vain if I did not run away with him at once, because my father had discovered that his mother was a Jew and had forbidden us to marry.”