Edward Marston - The Wanton Angel

The actor-manager worked himself up into a fierce rage.

‘This outrage will not be borne!’ he vowed.

‘You are not the one who has to bear it, Lawrence,’ said Elias. ‘That is poor Nick’s lot.’

‘He suffered those wounds while trying to defend our new playhouse. Our timber was destroyed, Owen. We all suffer that agony. Someone is determined to stop The Angel theatre ever coming into being.’

‘I spy the work of Havelock’s Men,’ said Hoode.

‘We have no proof of that,’ said Nicholas.

‘You carry it upon your head, Nick. Who most stands to lose if The Angel is built and prospers? The company at The Rose.’

‘Edmund is right,’ agreed Firethorn.

‘Yes,’ said Elias, adding his endorsement. ‘Who else could it be? And men who commit arson will also lower themselves to murder. One of them probably killed Sylvester.’

‘I wonder,’ said Nicholas. ‘His assassin followed him across the river before doing his work. That could mean that he lives here in the city and is familiar with the Queen’s Head, where he must have lurked in wait for Sylvester. Most of Havelock’s Men live in Southwark. One of them might have been dispatched here,’ he continued, ‘or some hired killer might have been engaged. But there are two further possibilities we must examine.’

‘What are they, Nick?’ asked Hoode.

‘First, that the assassin hailed from Shoreditch.’

‘Banbury’s Men?’

‘Several of them live cheek by jowl with us in the city. They know our territory and our habits. Their company even contains a few deserters from our own.’

Barnaby Gill looked distinctly uneasy. Silent so far, he felt impelled to enter the discussion. He waved a fussy hand.

‘This is wild speculation,’ he said. ‘We should not accuse anybody without proper evidence. The Angel theatre is clearly a stricken enterprise. We should accept that it will never be built and look elsewhere for our salvation.’

‘It will be built,’ asserted Firethorn. ‘If I have to put every brick and piece of timber in place myself, I will have that new playhouse.’

Gill was waspish. ‘What use will a playhouse be if the Privy Council’s decision favours The Rose? You will be left with an empty shell on your hands.’

‘Stop this talk of defeat, Barnaby!’

‘I am merely facing the inevitable.’

‘This is a time to be steadfast.’

‘Is it?’ said Gill sardonically. ‘Look at Nicholas. He was steadfast and we can all see the result. Murder and arson have already taken place on that site. What will come next?’

‘The burial of Barnaby Gill under its foundations!’ roared Firethorn. ‘Ye gods! This is treasonable talk. I want men around me who will fight to defend their livelihood.’

‘Let us come back to Nick,’ suggested Hoode, interceding in the quarrel before it distracted them completely. ‘He said that we should examine two further possibilities.’ He turned to the book holder. ‘What is the second?’

‘That the person or persons we seek have no connection whatsoever with any of our rivals,’ said Nicholas. ‘Indeed, they may not be involved in the theatre in any way.’

‘What, then, is their motive?’ wondered Elias.

Nicholas shrugged. ‘Spite, malice, revenge. Who knows? We all assumed that Sylvester was killed in order to deter us from building The Angel theatre. But the scene of the crime might have been chosen at random by an assailant who took the opportunity when it arose.’

‘What are you telling us, Nick?’ asked Firethorn.

‘That Sylvester may have been hunted down by an enemy. It was no deliberate attack on Westfield’s Men at all. The sole aim was to kill one man.’

‘But Sylvester had no enemies,’ argued Elias. ‘His real talent lay in making friends. Who could possibly wish to raise a hand against him?’ He gave a knowing leer. ‘Unless it was some enraged husband whom he cuckolded.’

Nicholas thought for a moment about the Earl of Dartford.

‘He had enemies,’ he said, ‘I am sure of that. And it might pay us to look more closely into his past.’

‘This does not make sense,’ said Hoode thoughtfully. ‘If Sylvester was murdered by a personal enemy then the crime was an end in itself. Why, then, go on to set fire to our property?’

‘The two attacks may be unrelated,’ said Nicholas. ‘I confess that I thought they were the work of the same villain at first but I am not so convinced now. And even if they are linked, it may not be through one of our rivals.’

‘Who else could join the two together?’ asked Hoode.

‘Our benefactor.’

As soon as the word popped out, Nicholas wondered if he had stumbled onto something. Could murder and arson have been used as a means of attacking the Countess of Dartford? Was there someone in her past who was wreaking the havoc in order to blight her plans? How would they know of her involvement with Westfield’s Men? Or of her relationship with Sylvester Pryde? The only way that he could probe the mystery was to visit her again. Cordelia Bartram had a right to know about the latest setback to the theatre she was lending money to build and she might conceivably be able to offer some insight into the outrage.

When they pressed him for more detail, Nicholas backed off and deflected them from any further mention of their guardian angel. It was forbidden territory. Their immediate concern was to stage a play that afternoon and he urged Firethorn to rally his company beforehand. They must not be allowed to dwell on adversity.

‘I’ll speak with them now,’ said Firethorn.

‘And I will take refreshment,’ said Gill, fastidiously.

‘Do not take your pessimism into the taproom, Barnaby. We have enough of that from our landlord. Give your fellows a smile. Raise their spirits. When the play is done,’ he announced, ‘every man of us will repair to the site to work.’

Gill was scandalised. ‘You will not get me near all that filth, Lawrence. It would ruin my apparel. And my hands are far too delicate for manual labour.’

Nicholas stepped in. ‘There is no need for any of us to go to the site today,’ he said. ‘It would only depress our fellows the more to see it in such a parlous state. Thomas Bradd has men enough to clear the mess. Let us leave it to him.’

‘I wish to view the damage for myself,’ decided Firethorn.

‘Then go alone,’ urged Gill. ‘You will not get me near a place which has brought so much horror down on our heads. I begin to think that it may be haunted.’

He went off to the taproom with Firethorn at his heels.

When Hoode and Elias tried to follow, Nicholas detained them.

‘I need some help from you,’ he said.

‘Anne is the only person who can help you,’ observed Elias. ‘You should be in your bed while she nurses you back to health, Nick. With injuries like yours, I would play the invalid for a week at least.’

‘That is not an option which I can afford to take.’

‘Tell us what to do, Nick,’ said Hoode, ‘and it will be done without complaint.’

‘Thank you, Edmund. I want you to seek out Lucius Kindell.’

‘If I do, it would only be to box his ungrateful ears!’

‘School your anger,’ advised Nicholas. ‘He can be of considerable use to us.’

‘But he is no longer involved with the company,’ said Hoode. ‘He took thirty pieces of silver from Havelock’s Men.’

‘That is why you must befriend him, Edmund.’

‘Befriend the rogue! Never!’

‘Listen to Nick,’ ordered Elias. ‘I understand his reasoning and it is sound. He wants a spy in Bankside.’

‘Not a spy,’ corrected Nicholas. ‘Lucius will be an unwitting informer. Go to him, Edmund. Apologise for your coldness. Make much of him. Give out that you fear the demise of this company and must perforce look for another to stage your plays. Ask him to tell you all that he can of Havelock’s Men. We may well learn much to our advantage.’