Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘Who on earth would want to take in a mischievous wretch like Davy?’

‘We were all capable of mischief at that age, Lawrence,’ said Owen with a grin. ‘You may hate the lad at the moment but you liked him at first. So did we all. Remember that and join in the hunt for him.’

‘No. I’m more likely to attack Davy than coax him back.’

‘Stay here, then.’

‘Meanwhile,’ suggested Nicholas, ‘don’t let this upset the rest of the company. They’ve taken enough blows as it is. Find some simple explanation for Davy’s absence.’

‘Yes,’ said Elias. ‘Nick is right. Show no anxiety or it will spread like wildfire. Dick Honeydew knows the truth of it but will keep it to himself. The others can be told that Davy is visiting relations in the area.’

‘What are they called?’ asked Firethorn. ‘Lucifer and Belial?’

Elias laughed but Nicholas had already gone into the stables to saddle one of the horses. The other two men followed him and the Welshman began to tack up his own mount. Looking around, Firethorn heaved a sigh of relief.

‘I suppose we should be grateful he didn’t try to burn this place down,’ he said.

‘The boy is waggish,’ argued Nicholas, ‘and not destructive. He’d do nothing like that to harm us. We’ve still to find the man who did try to set fire to the stables last night.’ He rubbed his head gingerly. ‘He has a friend I’d like to meet again as well.’

‘I’ll be there to watch your back next time, Nick,’ said Elias.

‘Thank you, Owen.’

‘What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?’ asked Firethorn.

‘Carry on as if nothing has happened,’ advised Nicholas.

The actor was scornful. ‘Oh, that will be very easy. Nothing has happened,’ he said with heavy sarcasm. ‘Our performance was ruined, a member of the audience was poisoned and one of apprentices has taken to his heels. It’s the kind of happy, normal, uneventful day that we always have.’

‘You’ve forgotten something, Lawrence,’ said Elias.

‘Have I?’

‘You’ve gone through another whole day without an illness.’

‘Blindness is still to come,’ moaned the other. ‘I’ve that to look forward to.’

‘While you still have eyes to see,’ mocked the Welshman.

He and Nicholas finished saddling their horses and led them outside. Both men were armed. After a few parting words with Firethorn, they mounted up and set off. Nicholas took them in the direction of the village, glad that the weather was milder and that the frozen track had started to thaw at last. Since dusk would not be long in coming, they rode side by side at a brisk canter, eyes peeled for any glimpse of the fugitive. Davy Stratton was nowhere to be seen. Stapleford was fairly close but there was no guarantee that the boy had gone there. They might well be heading the wrong way altogether. Seeing the bleak landscape around them, Elias began to have doubts.

‘It’s like searching for a needle in a cartload of hay,’ he said gloomily.

‘Davy has to be tracked down.’

‘Where do we start, Nick?’

‘At the first house we come to.’

‘We can’t knock on every door in the village.’

‘Yes, we can,’ said Nicholas. ‘You never know what we might find.’

Isaac Upchard was still in pain. His wounded wrist was smarting and he felt a sharp twinge whenever he put any weight on his right ankle. A black eye, a bruised chin and a broken nose were further souvenirs of his nocturnal visit to Silvermere. Feeling very sorry for himself, he was perched on a chair in Reginald Orr’s house, grimacing wildly. His friend was unsympathetic.

‘It was your own fault,’ he said coldly. ‘You made too much noise.’

‘I could hardly see in the dark, Reginald.’

‘All that you had to do was to set light to some straw.’

‘That fellow was on me before I could start the blaze.’

‘Yes,’ said Orr. ‘If I hadn’t been there to help you out, he’d have overpowered you for certain. You failed, Isaac. Miserably.’

‘Not for want of trying.’

‘We had the perfect opportunity to put this theatre company to flight. Burn down those stables and we’d have scattered their horses halfway across the county. Westfield’s Men wouldn’t have dared to stay at Silvermere a moment longer.’

‘According to you,’ recalled Upchard with another hideous grimace, ‘they’d never even get there.’

‘I thought we’d turned them back for sure.’

‘That’s not so easily done, Reginald. They’re too determined. The one who attacked me was as strong as an ox. If the others are like him, nothing will stop them.’

‘Oh, yes, it will,’ said Orr quietly.

‘What do you mean?’

His companion was brusque. ‘Never you mind. The important thing now is to cover our tracks. You can’t stay here any longer, Isaac. It’s far too dangerous.’

‘But I must,’ said Upchard, indicating his face. ‘I can’t be seen abroad in this state. And how do I explain this wound on my wrist?’

‘You won’t have to explain it if you go to ground for a while. Sir Michael has set a search in motion. I’ve already had a visit from the constable,’ said Orr with disdain, ‘but, luckily, that oaf could not detect a crime if it happened right under his big nose. I quickly disposed of him. But others may come in his wake, Isaac, and they may not be as easily turned away as a brainless constable. Whatever happens, you must not be found under my roof.’

Upchard was hurt. ‘Would you turn me out?’

‘Only for your own good.’

‘For your good as well, Reginald.’

‘I’m not thinking of myself here,’ said the other. ‘The simple fact is that I’m bound to come under suspicion. I spoke out boldly against this vile theatre troupe and told the vicar in so many words that I’d fight to keep them at bay. They’re certain to question me again,’ he predicted, ‘but they’ve no evidence to tie me to that escapade last night at Silvermere. With you, Isaac, it’s a different matter.’

‘Is it?’

‘Your attacker knows that he wounded you, man. You bear his marks upon you. If they catch you here, they’ll have the evidence they need to arrest us both.’

‘But I’d swear that you had nothing to do with it.’

‘Your word might not be enough to save me.’ Orr stood over him. ‘Do you want me to be imprisoned when we’re just starting to win converts to our sect? My presence here is vital, Isaac. If I leave, the others will soon fall away. You understand that. I’m the only one who can keep them together.’

‘I know.’

‘Then do as I say. Leave after dark and hide until you recover.’

‘Where?’

‘I’ve friends near Maldon,’ said Orr, moving to sit at the table. ‘I’ll write them a letter to explain. They’ll take good care of you.’ He put a scrap of parchment in front of him and reached for his pen. ‘Tell them no more than you have to, Isaac. All they need to know is that you’re running from persecution.’

‘It’s more than that,’ complained Upchard, pulling a face. ‘We ambushed the company and tried to set fire to some stables. They’re serious crimes.’

‘Necessary evils to drive out a darker malignancy.’

‘That’s not how the court will look at it.’

‘Only if you’re brought to trial,’ said Orr petulantly, ‘and there’s no chance of that if you do as I tell you. Now, let me compose this letter.’

Upchard struggled to his feet. ‘Must I ride all the way to Maldon?’

‘As soon as it’s dark.’

‘Let me spend another night here, Reginald.’

‘No! It’s out of the question.’

He was about to explain why when there was a rapping noise at the door. Upchard twitched guiltily. After putting a finger to his lips to advise silence, Orr nodded towards the kitchen. His visitor limped off into the adjoining room and shut the door behind him. Another rap was heard. Orr rose to his feet and crossed to open the door. He looked into the bruised face of Nicholas Bracewell and saw the bandage around his head. Owen Elias was standing beside his friend.