Edward Marston - The Vagabond Clown

‘That no longer matters,’ said Frant, desperation making his voice hoarse.

‘I believe that it does.’

‘Lawrence’s life is in your hands, Nick.’

‘And what about Thomasina’s life?’ asked Nicholas. ‘Have you forgotten her? It’s a cruel father who’d save his own skin and leave his daughter to suffer the consequences of his crimes. I refuse to believe that Sebastian Frant is that callous.’ He took a step closer. ‘Thomasina loves you. She looks up to you. At least, she did until she heard that you were involved in murder and kidnap. Are you going to make her even more ashamed by taking yet another life?’

‘Be quiet!’ howled Frant, wrestling with his conscience.

‘Put the dagger aside, Sebastian.’

‘No!’

‘Put it aside,’ said Nicholas softly, moving in closer. ‘We both know that you could not kill Lawrence. You’ve too much compassion in you for that. You simply wanted him out of the way so that Westfield’s Men could not continue. Nothing will be served by his death now.’ He held out a hand. ‘Let me have the dagger, Sebastian.’

‘Stay back!’ shouted Frant, pointing the weapon at him.

‘Would you kill me as well? Then do so,’ invited Nicholas, spreading his arms and offering his chest. ‘Come on, Sebastian. We know that you can hire an assassin. Let’s see if you have the courage to use that dagger yourself.’ He took another step forward. ‘We were friends once. End that friendship now, if you must.’

Frant raised the dagger to strike then lost his nerve. Opening his hand, he let it drop with a clatter to the floor. Nicholas was on him in an instant, pinioning him so that he could not move. Elias moved with equal speed to cut through Firethorn’s bonds. The actor-manager tore off the gag and the blindfold. He blinked up at Frant.

‘ You had this done to me, Sebastian?’ he asked. ‘I’ll strangle you!’

‘No,’ said Nicholas, using his body to protect Frant. ‘We’ll take him back to face the rigour of the law.’

‘He’ll feel my rigour first, Nick.’

‘You do not look as if you’ve any to spare, Lawrence,’ said Elias, putting an arm around him. ‘Leave him to us.’

‘But he was the one who ordered my kidnap.’

‘Sebastian did not carry it out himself,’ observed Nicholas. ‘He’d not soil his Roman Catholic hands with that kind of crime. He instructed someone else to abduct you. Is that not true, Sebastian?’ He tightened his grip on Frant. ‘Who was the man and where is he now?’ Frant’s lower lip began to tremble. ‘I thought so. The villain is aboard.’

As soon as they were hailed from the deck of the Mercury , he knew that they were in severe difficulties. A ship would not be dispatched from Dover to overhaul them unless there was a good cause. Flight was impossible. The only hope for Robert Armiger was to mingle with the crew of the Mermaid to pass himself off as one of them. Arrests would be made, the ship would be impounded and the captain would certainly be punished for his smuggling activities. Lowly members of the crew, however, might not suffer undue hardship. Armiger felt confident that Frant would not give him away and there was nobody else to identify him as a killer. Accordingly, he stood close to John Strood under the watchful eyes of the armed sailors who had come aboard from the Mercury .

His dream of escape was soon shattered. Nicholas Bracewell came bursting out of the hold with vengeance burning inside him. He looked around the deck.

‘Which one of you is Robert Armiger?’ he called out.

There was no reply. Crew members exchanged nervous glances but said nothing.

‘Where is that killer?’ demanded Nicholas. ‘Anyone who hides him is guilty of his crimes. I ask again — which one of you is Robert Armiger?’

‘He is,’ said Strood, pointing to his companion.

It was a dangerous admission. The words were hardly out of his mouth when Strood felt a dagger being thrust between his ribs by Armiger. Letting out a groan, he fell to the deck. Armiger fled from the spot, pushing his way roughly through the other members of the crew. Nicholas ran quickly to Strood to kneel beside him, cradling his head in one arm and trying to stem the bleeding. It was too late. Armiger’s thrust had been fatal. With a last smile of apology to his old shipmate, Strood finally escaped the shame of making his living as a smuggler on the Mermaid . Nicholas swallowed hard and offered up a silent prayer for his friend. Then he looked for Armiger once more. The man was up on the quarter deck, holding three people at bay with the bloodstained dagger that had just cut down Strood.

‘Leave him to me!’ ordered Nicholas, running to the steps.

Everyone backed away from Armiger. Having killed once, he was clearly ready to do so again and would not be taken without a fight. What amazed all those who watched was that Nicholas had no weapon of his own. He stood within six feet of Armiger.

‘John Strood was a friend of mine,’ he said.

‘Then I’ll send you after him,’ retorted Armiger, waving the dagger.

‘You’ve murdered enough people already.’

‘One more would give me great pleasure.’

‘Your case is hopeless,’ said Nicholas. ‘We can have you shot down with muskets or run through with swords. Put up your dagger while you may.’

‘Then step a little closer,’ urged the other man, ‘and you shall have it.’

Nicholas did not hesitate. During his years at sea, he had learnt to handle himself in a brawl on deck and had disarmed more than one adversary. Armiger was a skilled assassin but he preferred to stab his victims from behind when they were unguarded. Circumstances had changed. They were on the quarter deck of a merchant ship that was bobbing violently on the water. Nicholas was no unprotected victim. He was strong, alert and brave enough to take on an armed man. It put a tiny doubt in Armiger’s mind. As Nicholas came forward, he lunged at him with the dagger then made several sweeps to keep him away. Nicholas eluded the weapon with deft footwork then circled his man as he waited for his moment. It soon came. Armiger lunged again, missed, stabbed the air once more as Nicholas leapt back then hurled the dagger with vicious force. Nicholas ducked and the weapon went harmlessly over his head and into the sea.

Armiger gave a yell of exasperation and flung himself at Nicholas, grabbing him by the throat and forcing him back against the bulwark. They grappled, twisted and turned, then fell to the floor. Nicholas was momentarily dazed as his head struck the stout oak boards but Armiger did not pursue his advantage. Instead, refusing to end his days at the end of a rope, he decided to take his own life and clambered over the bulwark. Before he could jump, he felt Nicholas’s arm around his neck. There was another ferocious struggle as the two of them grappled and punched. Armiger would not be denied. With a last burst of energy, he jumped from the bulwark and pulled Nicholas after him. There was a loud splash as the two bodies hit the water. The moment they surfaced, they went for each other’s throats again.

Everyone on board rushed to the bulwark to watch the fight. Firethorn and Elias were among them, urging Nicholas on and wishing that they could help him in some way. Intent on drowning, Armiger was determined to take Nicholas with him and they threshed about wildly. A boat was lowered but it could never reach them in time to separate them. Armiger got a grip around Nicholas’s neck and forced him below the surface. The two bodies vanished for well over a minute with only a patch of white foam to show where the fight was still continuing. Firethorn and Elias began to fear for their friend but their anxiety was premature. Nicholas’s head eventually appeared. After gasping in air, he hauled the spluttering Armiger to the surface.