Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

When he reached the forest, he had the sensation once more that he was being watched. He could hear no sound of pursuit and wondered if his imagination was playing tricks on him. There was one way to make sure. Instead of looking behind him, he waited until he came to a thick outcrop of bushes that would obscure him from anyone on his tail. Swinging his horse around, he waited for several minutes in his hiding place. It was all to no avail. The only sounds that disturbed the forest were those of the birds. Nicholas pressed on, kicking his horse into a canter along the winding path. Sunshine was slanting in through the branches above him. He was in the heart of the forest when the attack came and it caught him off guard. As he came round a bend and slowed his horse to cross a little stream, there was a sudden explosion only yards away. The horse reared in fright, lost its footing and staggered violently. Nicholas was unseated and thrown into the water. Pulling out his dagger on instinct, he stood up to defend himself but nobody came. Hoofbeats departed at speed among the trees but he could not be sure in which direction they went. What was clear was the fact that he had just had a fortunate escape. Someone had trailed him in order to ambush him.

After reclaiming his own horse, he tethered the animal securely while he went to investigate. The loud report could only have come from a musket. If the ball had missed him, it must have spent its venom elsewhere. He began a long, lonely, painstaking search, first working out where his attacker had been when he fired the shot then trying to guess at its likely trajectory. He poked among bushes, studied the trunks of trees and felt along the ground. It was taxing work but his patience was eventually rewarded. The musket ball had passed perilously close to his head and embedded itself in the mossy interior of a hollow yew. Nicholas used the point of his dagger to dig it out. Aimed at his skull, it soon lay in the palm of his hand. It was a valuable clue.

Mother Pigbone emptied the food into the trough and watched with satisfaction as Beelzebub guzzled it down. She leant over to pat him on the back then played fondly with his ears. Without warning, the boar suddenly raised its head and exposed its teeth.

‘Is someone coming, Beelzebub?’ she asked, listening hard. ‘I’m getting old. Your hearing is so much better than mine.’ She soon picked up the drumming of hoofbeats. ‘Yes, another visitor. As always, you’re right.’

The animal remained alert until the rider brought his horse to a halt. Beelzebub then relaxed and addressed himself to his meal once more. Mother Pigbone grinned.

‘A friend this time, is it?’ she said. ‘Good. No need to let you out again.’

As she turned around, she saw a familiar figure waddling towards her on bow legs, his face pale and lined with anxiety. He touched his hat in a token greeting.

‘Good day, Mother Pigbone.’

‘And to you, sir. What can I do for you this time, Doctor Winche?’

When they resumed their work in the Great Hall, the company continued to work well. It was almost as if Egidius Pye’s arrival had lifted a cloud from them. It soon descended again. Nicholas Bracewell returned without their missing apprentice and there was general disappointment. Lawrence Firethorn was grateful that the book holder had come back unharmed. Calling a break in the rehearsal, he took Nicholas aside to hear the details of his search. Owen Elias joined them.

‘No luck at all?’ said Firethorn.

‘None so far,’ admitted Nicholas. ‘I’ll do a wider sweep this afternoon and I’d value your company on the ride, Owen.’

‘Gladly,’ said the Welshman.

‘But we can’t spare Owen,’ said Firethorn. ‘Why do you need him, Nick?’

‘Because I’d prefer to stay alive.’

Nicholas told them about the attempt on his life in the forest. Both men were outraged. Elias wanted to ride off immediately in search of the would-be assassin but Firethorn took a more cautious view.

‘I think that both of you should stay here,’ he said anxiously.

‘When someone has tried to kill Nick?’ asked Elias. ‘We need to catch the villain and string him up from the nearest tree.’

‘But we don’t know who the man is.’

‘I think we do, Lawrence. A name is easily put to him.’

‘Perhaps too easily,’ observed Nicholas.

Elias was adamant. ‘It simply has to be Reginald Orr.’

‘Does it, Owen?’

‘That would be my fear,’ said Lawrence, ‘and it’s the reason I’d prefer the pair of you to remain at Silvermere where it’s safe.’

‘There was no safety here for Robert Partridge,’ Nicholas reminded him. ‘If my guess is right, he was murdered under this roof. And we can’t just wash our hands of Davy. The search for him must continue.’

‘That lunatic Puritan is the man we should be searching for,’ said Elias, waving a fist. ‘Heavens, Nick, the man tried to shoot a hole through your head.’

‘Did he?’

‘Why else was he lurking in the forest?’

‘To give me a fright, Owen. Yes,’ he said, holding his hands up to stifle the protest he saw coming, ‘I know that you disagree but I’ve had time to reflect on it during the ride back. Reginald Orr is an enemy who’s vowed to chase us out of Essex. And, as it happens, he and I exchanged hot words when we met at the church earlier.’

‘That’s all the evidence you need, Nick!’ urged Elias. ‘You provoked him.’

‘Into a rage, perhaps, but that does not mean he became an assassin. I’ve met the man twice now and seen him breathe fire at us. Master Orr may be an awkward Christian but he’s a Christian nevertheless and that might stay his hand.’

‘It didn’t stay his hand during that ambush,’ noted Firethorn.

‘We’ve yet to prove his involvement in that.’

‘What about the attempt to burn our stables? You caught Orr’s confederate in the act. Thanks to you, Isaac Upchard is rotting in a cell.’

‘Rightly so, Lawrence,’ said Elias. ‘Reginald Orr should join him there.’

Nicholas was patient. ‘Let me make my point. The ambush and the fire were both attempts to scare us off. No attempt was made to kill any of us. Look at me,’ he said, indicating the bandage on his head. ‘When I was cudgeled to the ground, I couldn’t defend myself. If they’d wanted to kill me, they had the chance there and then.’

‘They were too eager to get away, Nick.’

‘Yes,’ said Firethorn. ‘Since then, you’ve given Reginald Orr a stronger motive to want you dead. You not only arrested his friend, Isaac Upchard, you’ll be the principle witness against him. What are the chances of guilty verdict against him if there’s no Nicholas Bracewell to speak against him in court?’

‘Whoever fired that musket was trying to kill you,’ asserted Elias. ‘I think that we should lay violent hands upon him before he tries again.’

‘What of Davy?’ asked Nicholas.

Firethorn was blunt. ‘Better a missing apprentice than a dead book holder.’

‘We can’t just abandon the lad.’

‘Davy is the one who abandoned us , Nick.’

The argument continued for a long while until Nicholas finally persuaded them to accept his advice. He and Elias were to continue the search. Before doing that, however, Nicholas had someone else to see.

‘Saddle your horse, Owen,’ he instructed, ‘I’ll join you in a while.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see a man about a musket ball.’

Sir Michael Greenleaf was standing on the top of the tower, cleaning the lens of his telescope with a cloth. The breeze made the wisps of hair on his uncovered head dance in all directions. He was too absorbed in his work even to notice the arrival of two people. Romball Taylard cleared his throat to attract his master’s attention. Sir Michael looked up and gave Nicholas a warm greeting.