Edward Marston - The Fair Maid of Bohemia

‘You did, I fear.’

‘I never breathed a word on the subject.’

‘You did not need to,’ soothed Nicholas. ‘Master Davey made his own deductions. That was the reason you were invited to the Governor’s house yesterday.’

‘We were guests of honour. Sir Robert praised my work.’

‘Deservedly so. But while the Governor was enjoying your company, his secretary was no doubt watching you carefully to decide if the pouch you had been given was somewhere about your person. He realised it was not.’

Firethorn gave a hollow laugh. ‘Am I so easy to read?’ he said. ‘Can I fool a thousand spectators with a performance and yet be found out by Balthasar Davey? Alas, I can. I was an open book. He saw me in my cups. One more vain actor, crowing upon the dunghill of his achievements. Far too irresponsible to look after secret documents by himself. My behaviour told him all that he needed to know. The pouch was in your capable hands.’

‘That intelligence came later,’ suggested Nicholas. ‘He surmised that you had given the pouch to someone else in the company. Master Davey’s conjecture fell on me.’

‘What of the killer?’

‘He, too, came around to the same name.’

‘Nicholas Bracewell.’

‘He followed us from England on the Peppercorn and bided his time. Anne overheard his murderous intent but not the identity of his victim. It is probably just as well. Had she known that I was in such danger, she would have been sorely vexed on her journey to Amsterdam.’

‘What is in that damnable pouch?’ wondered Firethorn.

‘Something of great value, it seems.’

‘It has already cost us one life, Nick. I’ll not let it rob us off another. My book-holder is far more precious to me than any secret documents.’ He held out his hand. ‘Give me the pouch. I’ll take it straight to Sir Robert Sidney and ask him to send it to Prague by official messenger.’

‘That is the last thing you must do.’

‘Why?’

‘We have been entrusted with an important duty. If the documents could have been sent by any other means, they would have been. Westfield’s Men were considered to be the safest couriers.’

‘Safest! It has made us anything but safe, Nick.’

‘We must still deliver the pouch to Doctor Talbot Royden.’

‘We are more likely to deliver another dead body to a hole in the ground. And the chances are that it may be yours. I will not take that risk.’

‘I will,’ said Nicholas firmly.

‘Why?’

‘Because it is the only way to find Adrian’s killer.’

‘Will you invite destruction?’

‘I must. I want him.’

***

Bowing to expediency, Westfield’s Men decided to leave on the following morning. They wanted to stay for the funeral, but loyalty to Adrian Smallwood had to be weighed in the balance against practicalities. Bohemia was their final destination and they had been asked to arrive in Prague by a specific date. A delay of some days in Flushing would make it difficult for them to comply with that request, and they did not wish to linger in a town that was so redolent of the horrors of war.

The English presence was reluctantly tolerated by the local burghers and openly resented by ordinary townspeople. Younger members of the community expressed their animosity in a more obvious way. While the company was loading its two wagons outside the inn, a group of children came to spit at them and make obscene gestures. The mirth and madness of the previous day had been supplanted by a more usual rancour.

The well-bred James Ingram was shocked by the display.

‘Why do they hate us?’ he asked in dismay. ‘We are fighting in this war on their side.’

‘And occupying their town,’ Elias pointed out.

‘An army must have a garrison.’

‘These children are too young to understand that, James. All they see is an invasion by uncouth soldiers, who strut about their streets and lust after their mothers and sisters. In their eyes, we are just another set of filthy interlopers.’ He looked across at the jeering gang. ‘I have a lot of sympathy for them.’

‘Sympathy?’ Ingram was astonished. ‘With that behaviour?’

‘It is no worse than some of the things I did at their age. You forget that I was born in a country that has seen more than its share of English soldiers. Wales did not seek the Act of Union any more than these lads sought to hand over their town to foreigners.’ He clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘Ignore them, James. Every actor must endure a hostile audience from time to time.’

They continued to help with the loading. Both men wore a sword and dagger, as did most of the company. The death of their colleague had put them all on guard. Nicholas Bracewell and Lawrence Firethorn were the only ones with an awareness of the likely motive behind the murder and they resolved to keep it that way. If the others realised that they were carrying documents which made them vulnerable to further attack, they would be sent into a communal panic.

When the company were ready for departure, Balthasar Davey rode up with two soldiers in attendance. He reined in his horse beside Nicholas and Firethorn.

‘I am glad to see that you took my advice,’ said Davey.

Nicholas sighed. ‘It was not an easy decision.’

‘But it has been taken,’ said Firethorn briskly. ‘There is nothing to keep us here now. We are keen to ride out of such an unfriendly town.’

‘I am sorry that our welcome turned sour,’ said Davey with an apologetic shrug. ‘We tried to make your visit here as pleasant as was possible in the circumstances. You certainly lifted our hearts with your play and for that we are truly grateful.’ He indicated his companions. ‘I have brought you some guides to escort you a few miles out of the town and set you on the right road. Beyond that point, you will be on your own, but this may be useful to you.’ He took a folded sheet of parchment from his belt and handed it to Nicholas. ‘It is the map I promised. With the names of towns or wayside inns where you may conveniently break your journey.’

‘Thank you, Master Davey.’

‘You have been a kindly host,’ said Firethorn with a hint of irony, ‘but we well understand why you wish to speed our departure. Farewell, sir.’

‘Adieu!’ replied Davey, quite unruffled. ‘Sir Robert sends his compliments and wishes you a safe journey. Do not fret over Adrian Smallwood. I will make sure that he is buried with honour and you may pay your respects at his grave when you return to Flushing.’

‘We are ever in your debt,’ said Nicholas.

He climbed into the first of the wagons and took up the reins. James Ingram was beside him while Edmund Hoode sat among the baggage with George Dart and the apprentices. The rest of the company were travelling in the second wagon. Owen Elias was its appointed driver, with Firethorn at his side. It was not a happy departure. Westfield’s Men had fond memories of their fallen comrade and those memories would be ignited when the little cavalcade went past the church where Adrian Smallwood lay on a cold and lonely slab.

Balthasar Davey watched them set off. Led by their two guides, and accompanied by the cruel gibes of the Dutch children running after them, the wagons rolled forward on the first stage of their onerous journey to Bohemia.

***

Thanks to the ease of their task, the horses kept up a steady pace without effort. They were accustomed to dragging carts that were crammed with men and munitions. Hearts were heavy in the wagons, but the loads were comparatively light for the two powerful animals between each set of shafts. It was not long before the two soldiers wheeled off the road and gestured for the travellers to continue. Westfield’s Men rumbled on into open country. They were on their own now.