Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘I have the feeling that this particular man of God will go to any extremes,’ said Nicholas. ‘Actors are vermin in his opinion. They must be put down.’

‘Well, he’ll have to try a lot harder to put me down.’

‘Orr doesn’t know that yet. He probably thinks he’s sent us running all the way back to London. When he learns that we’ve reached Silvermere and mean to present our plays, he may try to strike at us again.’

‘Unless we cut the villain to ribbons first!’

‘We need proof before we can accost Reginald Orr,’ said Nicholas, ‘and we’ve none at the moment. Until we find some, we must stay our hands.’

‘It has to be him, Nick,’ argued Elias. ‘Who else could it be?’

‘I don’t know. It certainly wasn’t a gang of robbers or they’d have closed in when they had us in disarray. No, this ambush was planned, Owen. Somebody knew that we’d be travelling along the road today. Digging that hole and chopping down that tree took time and energy. Nobody would go to such pains unless they were absolutely certain to catch their prey.’

‘So what do we do now?’

‘Go back to the others to help repair the cart.’

‘And then?’

‘You can drive it the rest of the way,’ decided Nicholas. ‘I’ll ride on ahead to make sure that there are no more unpleasant surprises awaiting us. I’ll take young Davy with me. His short cut through the forest will save us valuable time.’

‘As long as he doesn’t run off again.’

‘Davy won’t do that, Owen.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he’s been too frightened by this ambush. With enemies lurking about, he won’t dare to go off on his own.’

They came out of the trees and strolled back towards the others. Westfield’s Men had recovered their high spirits. Those who were sorting out the cargo were exchanging merry banter, the remainder were warming themselves at the fire and enjoying the sprightly music that was now being played. Ashamed of his earlier response, Barnaby Gill was declaring his commitment to the company by executing one of his jigs for the amusement of the apprentices. Firethorn was swinging a hammer rhythmically as he worked on the cartwheel, Hoode was rehearsing his lines from The Witch of Colchester. The troupe looked less like victims of an ambush than contented travellers who had deliberately made camp beside the road.

Elias was heartened and Nicholas was deeply touched by what he saw.

‘They won’t stop Westfield’s Men,’ said the latter, ‘whatever they do.’

Sir Michael Greenleaf seemed impervious to the cold. Even though he had taken the precaution of wrapping a cloak around his shoulders, Romball Taylard gave an occasional shiver but his master was untroubled by the low temperature and the gusting wind. The two men were on the top of the tower at Silvermere. Instead of training his telescope on the sky, however, Sir Michael was scanning the horizon in the falling light for signs of his visitors. He stood back and shook his head in dismay.

‘There’s no sign of them, Romball,’ he said dejectedly.

‘Perhaps they’re not coming today, Sir Michael.’

‘They promised faithfully that they would and I take Nicholas Bracewell to be a man of his word. Heavens, they’re due to stage their first play tomorrow evening. What am I to tell my guests if I have no theatre company to set before them?’

‘Westfield’s Men may still arrive today,’ said Taylard.

‘But they should have been here hours ago.’

‘They may have got lost on their way.’

‘When they have Nicholas Bracewell and Owen Elias to guide them? I doubt that they’ve gone astray, Romball. They have Davy Stratton with them, remember. He knows this part of the county as well as anyone.’

‘We’re assuming that they’ll bring the boy, Sir Michael.’

‘Oh, they must,’ said the old man. ‘His father will be in the audience.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Jerome Stratton would be mortified if he did not at least see a glimpse of his son on the stage as Davy sets out on his new career. He’s an intelligent lad and may turn out to be a splendid actor.’

‘I’m not sure that actors need great intelligence,’ opined the steward with the merest hint of contempt. ‘They seem to come from all walks of life, with little or no education in some cases. Look at that Welshman who came here.’

‘Owen Elias? A brilliant actor, according to my wife.’

‘But clearly no graduate of a university.’

Sir Michael laughed. ‘Neither am I, Romball,’ he said with delight, ‘yet I’ve discovered things that have eluded the most learned men of science at Oxford and Cambridge. Which of them have my dedication and range of interests? Or, for that matter, my artistic inclinations for, though science is my first love, I don’t neglect the arts. It’s not only Lady Eleanor who wanted the players here.’

‘I appreciate that, Sir Michael.’

‘I, too, am an admirer of histrionic skills. Even if you are not.’

Taylard stiffened. ‘Me?’

‘Come, Romball,’ said the other. ‘You don’t need to dissemble in front of me. For reasons that I can’t quite understand, you resent the arrival of Westfield’s Men.’

‘I deny that charge strongly, Sir Michael.’

‘I sense your opposition.’

‘It’s not for me to approve or disapprove,’ said the other smoothly. ‘As your steward, I merely carry out your wishes without subjecting them to any kind of moral judgement. My pleasure comes from serving you and Lady Eleanor.’

‘Nobody could do it better. What other man would stand on top of a tower in the freezing cold just to keep me company? And there’s probably not another steward in England who would put up with the explosions from my cannon and the stench of chemicals from my laboratory. But you’ve been here too long for me not to get an idea of your own feelings,’ said Sir Michael with a wry smile. ‘Deny it if you will, I still believe that you have reservations about our visitors from London.’

‘I have only one, Sir Michael,’ admitted the other, ‘and it’s nothing whatsoever to do with the actors themselves. It concerns you and Lady Eleanor.’

‘In what way?’

‘That’s already been demonstrated. When you allow plays to be staged at Silvermere, you also invite trouble. The vicar gave you fair warning of it.’

Sir Michael sighed. ‘The notorious Reginald Orr.’

‘I would hate him to cause any more trouble for you, Sir Michael.’

‘Nor shall he, Romball. That turbulent Christian will not be allowed anywhere near the house. Have no fears on our account.’

‘I’ll instruct everyone to remain vigilant.’

‘Yes,’ said Sir Michael with a sparkle in his eye, ‘and if you still think we’re going to be invaded by an army of wild Puritans, you can even mount a man up here to keep watch through my telescope.’

Taylard gave a rare smile. ‘There’s nobody I dislike enough to put him up here in this weather, Sir Michael.’

‘I think it’s quite mild today.’

‘The lake is still frozen.’

‘It won’t be when I find a way to smash the ice with cannon balls.’

‘Why not leave that task to the servants?’ advised the other.

‘When science can save them the trouble? It’s merely a question of getting the right balance of ingredients in my gunpowder. There’s still too much sulphur.’ He peered anxiously through the telescope again. ‘Wherever can they be?’

‘They’re obviously not coming, Sir Michael.’

‘It will soon be too dark to see anything.’

‘Could I suggest that we go back inside the house?’

‘We might as well,’ agreed the other, giving up. ‘We’re wasting our time up here. Wait a moment!’ he said as Taylard headed for the door. ‘Someone’s coming.’