Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘No, Owen. I can’t accept that.’

‘Can you accept that he might have attacked you with a cudgel the other night?’

‘Easily.’

‘The difference between a cudgel and a musket is not that great.’

‘It is,’ said Nicholas.

‘Both can be used to kill.’

‘Only in the wrong hands. If it was Master Orr who hit me — and we’ve yet to unmask him as the culprit — then he did so simply to set Isaac Upchard free rather than to knock out my brains. I absolve him completely of the charge of shooting at me.’

‘Well, I don’t, Nick.’

‘How would he get hold of a musket?’

‘Sir Michael is not the only man in Essex who possesses them.’

‘He’s the only one with distinctive markings on his ammunition,’ said Nicholas. ‘He took me to the arsenal again and showed me his supply of musket balls. Each one had the same triangle of dots.’

Elias was scornful. ‘I’m not interested in Sir Michael’s little triangles. All that I’m concerned with is the single round hole that someone tried to put in your head. And my guess is that it was Reginald Orr who pulled the trigger himself or who set someone else on to do it.’

‘I disagree, Owen.’

‘What if he and Jerome Stratton are confederates?’

‘That’s unthinkable. They’d loathe the sight of each other. Can you imagine someone like Orr approving of the way that Master Stratton makes his money? And I hardly think that Davy’s father would consort with a Puritan. No,’ said Nicholas, ‘they live in different worlds.’

‘Different worlds, maybe, but they share the same code.’

‘Code?’

‘If something stands in your way, remove it.’

‘That’s certainly what Master Orr tried to do to us,’ conceded Nicholas.

‘And what better way to do it than to take our book holder away?’ said Elias. ‘Remove you and Westfield’s Men totter. From the moment you caught Isaac Upchard, you were a marked man, Nick. Orr is thirsting for your blood. There’s a sequence here,’ he argued. ‘The ambush, the attack on the stables and that shot in the forest.’

‘You’ve missed out the death of Robert Partridge.’

‘It was murder. We both know that.’

‘Do you lay that at Reginald’s Orr feet as well?’

‘Of course. He’ll do anything to disrupt our performances. I believe that that lawyer was deliberately poisoned so that he’d die during the play. We were fortunate that it happened when it did and not earlier in the action. Orr is to blame,’ he said, smacking his pommel with the flat of his hand. ‘I’d stake my fortune on it.’

‘You don’t have a fortune, Owen.’

The Welshman chuckled. ‘I’d forgotten that.’

‘You also forgot to explain how the poison was administered,’ said Nicholas. ‘Reginald Orr is not allowed anywhere near Silvermere. How did he sneak in there to give the fatal draught to Robert Partridge and why select a harmless lawyer as his victim?’

‘Lawyers are never harmless. Look at Pye.’

‘You’ve not answered me. Master Orr would get into the Palace of Westminster more easily than into Silvermere.’

‘He must have a friend in the house.’

‘I doubt if he has a friend in the whole county apart from Isaac Upchard. You’ve met him, Owen. He’s more skilled at making enemies than friends.’

The Welshman was unconvinced. He still believed that their trail would lead eventually to the inhospitable Puritan on whom they had called before. The two friends agreed to differ and rode on. It was a fairly short journey to Holly Lodge. As they trotted up the drive, Nicholas issued a caution.

‘Say nothing about Davy running away from us.’

‘If that’s what actually happened, Nick.’

‘We know that it was.’

‘Do we? Suppose that he’s been kidnapped by Reginald Orr?’

‘Davy went of his own accord. You can’t blame everything on Master Orr.’

‘Oh, yes, I can. He probably had a hand in the Spanish Armada as well.’

Nicholas laughed and reined in his horse. When they knocked at the door, they were invited into the hall. Jerome Stratton was highly displeased to see them. He already had one visitor at the house and could spare little time for any others. When he came out of the parlour, he left the door faintly ajar.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, strutting over to them. ‘I hope you haven’t come here to tell me that Davy has fled from you again.’

‘No, Master Stratton,’ said Nicholas.

‘Good.’

‘If he did run away, we’d not look for him here.’

‘He’s your responsibility now. Davy is off my hands, thank heaven. So,’ he said, feet astride, ‘why are you bothering me again?’

‘It’s about a musket that you borrowed from Sir Michael Greenleaf.’

Stratton gaped. ‘The two of you came all this way to reclaim a musket? What an extraordinary errand to perform! If Sir Michael is so eager to get it back from me, why not send one of his servants?’

‘Because it’s rather a special weapon, sir,’ said Elias.

‘Special?’

‘It was used to fire at Nicholas in the forest.’

‘That may or may not be true,’ explained Nicholas. ‘Someone shot at me earlier today. The musket ball missed me but I was able to retrieve it. Sir Michael identified it as having come from his own moulds.’

‘So?’ said Stratton. ‘You’re surely not alleging that I fired that shot?’

‘Did you, sir?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You borrowed the musket to shoot rabbits, I understand.’

‘Did you mistake Nick for one?’ asked Elias sarcastically.

‘No, I did not,’ retorted Stratton, flaring up, ‘and I resent the suggestion. You’ve no right to come here hurling wild accusations at me. It’s slanderous.’

‘Could I see the weapon, please?’ said Nicholas quietly.

‘Why?’

‘Because I might be able to tell if it’s been fired recently.’

‘You’d be wasting your time.’

‘Let me be the judge of that.’

‘This is a matter between Sir Michael and me.’

‘I may be unwittingly involved.’

‘You’re not, I promise you.’

‘Show me the weapon and I’ll know for certain.’

‘If you insist,’ said Stratton, realising that it was the only way to get rid of him. He summoned a manservant and snapped an order that sent him scurrying off. ‘The musket hasn’t been fired for weeks because it’s completely jammed. It’s far too dangerous to use. You can take it back to Sir Michael with my compliments.’

‘Do you have any other firearms in the house, sir?’ said Nicholas.

‘Would I need to borrow one if I did?’

‘What about the supply of musket balls? Are they intact?’

Stratton exploded. ‘I’ve better things to do than to spend my time counting a bag of musket balls. If someone shot at you, it wasn’t me though I’m beginning to have some sympathy with the marksman.’

‘Don’t you dare to insult Nick,’ warned Elias, ‘or you’ll answer to me.’

‘Are you threatening me in my own house?’

‘No, Master Stratton,’ said Nicholas in a more conciliatory tone. ‘And we didn’t come here to accuse you, sir, merely to establish certain facts.’

‘Well, here’s one that you can establish,’ said the merchant as his servant returned to hand him the musket. ‘See for yourself. The weapon is useless.’

Taking the musket from him, Nicholas needed only a moment to see that it was damaged. He considered the possibility that Stratton had deliberately put it out of action after firing at him but dismissed it instantly. The man might be angry with him but he had no real motive to kill him. Since his son was now a member of Westfield’s Men, it was in Stratton’s interests to safeguard the company rather than to murder one of its members. Nicholas gave the musket to Elias. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the door of the parlour inch open a little.