Edward Marston - The Wanton Angel

‘Troubles?’

‘Have you not heard?’

Leonard put his hands on his hips and gave her a halting account of the woes of Westfield’s Men. She was saddened to hear that they might be driven out of the Queen’s Head by an edict of the Privy Council and horrified to learn of the fire at the site of their new playhouse but it was the death of Sylvester Pryde which upset her the most.

‘He was such a courteous gentleman,’ she recalled.

‘An upright fellow, to be sure.’

‘It was always a pleasure to serve him in the taproom. Master Pryde had a smile and a kind word for me every time. And is he really dead?’

‘The funeral is tomorrow, as I hear.’

‘Would that I could be there to pay my respects!’

‘We will miss Sylvester Pryde,’ he said mournfully, ‘but, then, we will miss the whole company when they leave here for good. Westfield’s Men bring so much life and merriment to the Queen’s Head.’

‘They do, Leonard,’ she enthused. ‘When I lay sick in bed, the only thing which stayed me was the sound of a play being staged in our yard. That laughter and applause helped me through my ordeal.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘I think there is no profession in the world more exciting than that of an actor. The inn will seem dead without the company.’

‘I said as much to Martin.’

Her ears pricked up. ‘Martin?’

‘You remember him. He worked here briefly in the taproom. Martin chanced to call in and asked me how we were all faring at the Queen’s Head. He enjoyed his time with us, I think.’

‘Did he mention me?’ she whispered.

‘Oh, yes. And spoke with fondness.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘That you were locked unjustly away.’

‘And what did Martin say to that?’

‘He was sad to hear it, Mistress Rose. And even sadder when he knew the reason.’ He gabbled his apology. ‘I hope I did not speak out of turn in telling him about your plight. But Martin was concerned for you. He pressed me. He will not breathe a word of this to anyone, I am sure. Martin is discreet.’

‘Yes, Leonard. I am sure.’ She made an effort to sound casual. ‘What news did he have on his own account?’

‘Very little.’

‘Has his ambition been fulfilled?’

‘He mentioned no ambition to me,’ said Leonard, scratching his head. ‘To tell the truth, I cannot think that any man would have an ambition to work at the Brown Bear.’

‘The Brown Bear?’

‘It is a scurvy inn in Eastcheap, full of wild company and wickedness. I would have thought that Martin could find better employment than that.’

Rose was hurt. ‘Martin works at another inn?’

‘Yes,’ said Leonard. ‘He would have been far happier to stay here. He was a fool to leave the Queen’s Head. Do you not think so, Mistress Rose?’

‘I do, Leonard,’ she murmured ‘I do.’

Lawrence Firethorn was glad to loan his horse to Nicholas Bracewell for the second time. The book holder was going to visit their benefactor’s house and Firethorn was eager to do anything he could to make the journey there quicker and more comfortable. It gave him an excuse to pry and to probe.

‘Do you have far to go, Nick?’ he wondered.

‘Far enough.’

‘Outside the city, then?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Nicholas with a non-committal smile.

‘Should you travel in your condition?’

‘I have no choice.’

‘You were badly beaten last night,’ said Firethorn with regret. ‘You must still be in pain. Let me come with you in case you falter on the way. We can borrow a second horse from the stables.’

‘I prefer to go alone.’

‘But is that wise?’

‘Wise and necessary,’ said Nicholas firmly. ‘I was hurt in the attack but Anne was a kind nurse and I managed to walk all the way here from Bankside this morning. A ride will not tax me in the slightest.’

‘Shall I bear you company at least part of the way?’

‘No.’

‘Will our benefactor agree to see you?’

‘I hope so.’

‘What manner of man is he?’ fished the other.

‘I must be on my way.’

‘Is there nothing you will tell me, Nick?’

‘Only that I have to keep my word.’

Firethorn contained his frustration. It irked him that a vital part of the company’s financial situation was wreathed in secrecy. He could not understand why he, of all people, was kept in the dark about the source of their loan. At the same time, he did not wish to imperil it at such a delicate period by forcing Nicholas to break a confidence. He had complete faith in his book holder’s ability to represent Westfield’s Men fairly and firmly.

‘We are undeterred,’ said Firethorn.

‘I know.’

‘Impress that upon our benefactor. The fire last night was a minor setback that will only spur us on. Make him appreciate that, Nick. He must not take fright and withdraw his loan or we are laid low.’ He looked worried. ‘One thing more.’

‘What is that?’

‘May good fortune attend you!’

Firethorn slapped his horse on the rump and it trotted off across the inn yard. He waited until it was out of sight before he went off ruminatively to the taproom. Nicholas, meanwhile, rode off towards the Strand on his mission. It was not one which gave him any pleasure. Some of the bandaging around his head was concealed by his cap but his face still bore vivid souvenirs of the attack and he collected a number of ghoulish stares from passers-by. He wondered how the Countess of Dartford would react when he presented himself in such a bruised condition.

Yet she had to be kept abreast of developments at The Angel theatre and the visit might have an incidental bonus. Nicholas hoped that he might learn more of her relationship with Sylvester Pryde and some indication of whether it might be responsible for some of the ills which had befallen Westfield’s Men. He also intended to find out more about her precise motives for lavishing so much money on a struggling theatre company. One thought buoyed him up. The performance that afternoon had vindicated the company’s high reputation. Led by Firethorn and supported by Nicholas, their response to the arson attack had been refreshingly positive. They refused to be cowed into submission.

When he reached the house, Nicholas had some difficulty persuading the servants to let him in. It was only when the steward was sent for that the visitor was allowed over the threshold and that was done with blatant reservations. The Countess was at home but the steward had the severest doubts that she would consent to admit Nicholas. He went off with measured strides. When he returned from her, however, he was slightly abashed and he told the visitor, with dignified reluctance, that the mistress of the house insisted on seeing him at once. Nicholas was conducted to the chamber where he had met the Countess during his earlier visit.

He doffed his cap in deference and she was shocked.

‘What has happened to you, Nicholas?’ she cried.

‘That is what I have come to tell you, my lady.’

‘Then do so in comfort,’ she said, motioning him to a seat and dismissing the steward in one gesture. ‘Should you not be abed with such injuries?’

‘They appear worse than they are,’ he said bravely.

The Countess of Dartford was impatient to hear all. Nicholas was concise but accurate. He did not play down the extent of the setback but he stressed how well the company had come together in the crisis. Volunteers to work on the site and to guard it through the night were ready and numerous. He was able to assure her that their new playhouse would be fully protected from any further assault. Her main concern was for his safety.

‘You put your own life at risk, Nicholas.’