Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘Did you hear what he said about the victim, Nick?’

‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas. ‘The man’s name was Robert Partridge.’

‘His profession is the crucial thing.’

‘He was a lawyer.’

‘Exactly!’ said Firethorn. ‘Just like Shortshrift in The Witch of Colchester . And what happens to Shortshrift?’ he asked, eyes enlarging. ‘He’s poisoned! We’re back to Egidius Pye again. No wonder Lord Malady was spared this time. It was somebody else’s turn to suffer.’

Nicholas was unconvinced. ‘It’s far too early to make that assumption.’

‘I told you that the play was cursed.’

‘Then why didn’t Master Partridge die in the middle of it and not at the end of The Insatiate Duke ? It’s just one more unfortunate coincidence.’

‘Fever, collapse, loss of voice, murder. All four happen in that order in Pye’s damnable play. Yes,’ he went on, getting to his feet in alarm, ‘and the next thing is that Lord Malady goes blind. How can I act if I can’t see?’

‘The blindness is temporary,’ said Nicholas, rising to soothe him, ‘and it occurs in the pages of a play and not in reality. Stop confusing the two.’

‘But they’re joined indissolubly together, Nick.’ He reached a decision. ‘Cancel the play. We’ll have no witch of Colchester on these boards.’

‘We must. Sir Michael has insisted.’

‘All that he insists upon is a new piece. We set Pye’s work aside, put a tried and tested old comedy in its place, brush off its cobwebs and swear it’s never been performed before. Sir Michael won’t know the difference.’

‘Lady Eleanor will,’ warned Nicholas. ‘She’s watched us many times at the Queen’s Head. So has Master Stratton. We’ll not fool them. Besides, The Witch of Colchester has been advertised. Cancel it now and there’ll be repercussions.’

‘They can’t be any worse than the repercussions we’ll have if we retain it. Take pity on me, Nick,’ he implored. ‘Aren’t fever, collapse and loss of speech enough for me to endure? Will you wish blindness upon me as well?’

‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

‘Keep the play and we keep the curse that goes with it. A plague on Egidius Pye!’ he roared. ‘He’s written a comedy that just killed this poor fellow, Robert Partridge.’

‘But he didn’t,’ insisted Nicholas, ‘don’t you see? You’re confusing fact and invention again. Master Partridge is no character in the play. If a lawyer was to die by poison in the way it occurs in The Witch of Colchester , then it should have been James Ingram for it’s he who takes the role of Shortshrift. Yet James was in excellent health when he left us a while ago. How do you explain that?’

Firethorn was baffled. He sat down again and tried to work it out. Nicholas watched him with mild exasperation, fearing that the actor might make a decision that would make them all suffer. It was some time before either man became aware that they were not alone. Framed in the doorway, too shy to speak, was Richard Honeydew. He waited until Nicholas finally caught sight of him.

‘Dick,’ he said, turning to the boy, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘I’ve something to tell you,’ replied Honeydew nervously.

‘Well, spit it out, lad,’ ordered Firethorn. ‘We’ve lots to do before we turn in for the night. It includes giving that friend of yours, Davy Stratton, a sound beating.’

‘But you can’t do that, Master Firethorn!’

‘Try to stop me and you’ll feel the weight of my hand as well.’

‘What’s the trouble, Dick?’ said Nicholas gently. ‘You’re shaking all over.’

‘I did wrong,’ admitted Honeydew. ‘I know that you sent Davy to the cottage and forbade any of us to speak to him but I felt sorry for him. While we were all eating in the kitchen, he was alone over there. So I …’ The apprentice bit his lip before continuing. ‘So I took some food across there for Davy.’

‘It sounds to me as if you deserve a thrashing alongside him,’ said Firethorn.

‘That’s what I came to tell you, Master Firethorn. Beat me, if you wish, but you won’t be able to lay a finger on Davy.’

‘Why not?’ said Nicholas.

Honeydew was crestfallen. ‘He’s run away.’

The search for Davy Stratton was swift, thorough and entirely fruitless. Led by Nicholas Bracewell, three of them combed the stables, the cottages and the immediate environs. The boy had vanished, taking his meagre belongings with him and leaving behind no clues as to where he might have gone. Opinions about his disappearance varied. Lawrence Firethorn was at first delighted, Nicholas was very disturbed and Owen Elias occupied a middle position between them, relieved that Davy was not there to cause them any more trouble yet concerned for his safety. It was late afternoon as the trio stood outside the stables to review the situation.

‘No question about it,’ said Elias. ‘Davy has gone.’

‘Good riddance!’ said Firethorn.

‘The lad is our responsibility,’ Nicholas reminded them. ‘We can’t have him wandering about the countryside in weather like this.’

‘That’s not what he’s doing, Nick,’ said Elias.

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t but it’s what instinct tells me. Consider this possibility. Davy didn’t run away from us. Supposing that he ran to somebody else?’

Nicholas was dubious. ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t his father, Owen. Master Stratton is still here. All the boy had to do was to stay at Silvermere if he wanted his father.’

‘Jerome Stratton is the last person he wants.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Firethorn. ‘I wouldn’t want that slimy merchant for a distant cousin, let alone a parent. On the other hand, I suppose that he ought to be told that his son’s absconded yet again.’

‘No,’ said Nicholas, thinking hard. ‘Keep him ignorant for the time being. The boy can be retrieved without any recourse to Master Stratton.’

‘But he knew where to find him last time,’ observed Elias. ‘They caught the lad on foot in the woods because they were looking in the right place.’

‘Where had Davy been in the meantime? That’s the critical question, Owen, and I’m inclined to agree with you. The boy might have had a destination nearby,’ concluded Nicholas. ‘Who did he go to see that day and why?’

‘I’ve no idea, Nick.’

‘Nor I,’ said Firethorn, ‘and I don’t care. He’s flown the coop and that’s that. Why should we bother to retrieve someone who’s been such a damnable nuisance?’

‘Because we have to,’ said Nicholas reasonably. ‘Davy Stratton is ours and we can’t disown him, whatever antics he may get up to. Since he misbehaved so badly today, it might suit us to have him out of the way but he’s bound to Westfield’s Men by contract and must return sooner or later. This is no blind dash for freedom,’ he went on. ‘Davy has a refuge in the vicinity. Someone is looking after him.’

Firethorn was bitter. ‘Good luck to them!’

‘One thing is certain,’ said Nicholas, glancing at the stables. ‘The lad’s on foot. He didn’t take one of the horses. That means the place he’s heading for can’t be too far away. He’s had a good start on us but it might be worth giving chase. This light will hold out for another hour or so. I’m going after him,’ he decided on impulse. ‘Will you bear me company, Owen?’

‘Gladly,’ said the Welshman.

‘But you don’t know which way he went,’ Firethorn pointed out.

‘Towards the village, at a guess,’ said Nicholas, gazing in the direction of Stapleford. ‘That’s where the nearest habitation is. Perhaps he has friends there. He certainly doesn’t have any at Holly Lodge, his old home.’