Edward Marston - The Laughing Hangman

The sight of Jonas Applegarth made his rage smoulder. As he breathed in the foul air, he contemplated the various ways in which he could kill his enemy, dwelling longest on those which inflicted the greatest pain and humiliation.

***

Nicholas Bracewell approached the house from the far end of the street so that he did not have to walk past the premises owned by Ambrose Robinson. It irked him that since Anne Hendrik stepped back into his life, he had not yet managed to have a proper conversation alone with her.

When the servant opened the door to him, Nicholas heard voices within and feared that the truculent neighbour was already there, but the visitor was in fact a good friend.

‘It is wonderful to see you again, Master Bracewell!’

‘Thank you, Preben.’

‘We have missed you in Bankside.’

‘I lodge north of the river now.’

‘That is our loss.’

Preben van Loew was the senior hatmaker in the business which Anne Hendrik had inherited from her late husband and which she managed in the adjoining building. A spectral figure in a black skull-cap, the old Dutchman embraced Nicholas warmly before quitting the house. Anne herself waited until they were alone in the parlour before she gave him her welcome.

‘This is a lovely surprise, Nick!’

‘Do I call at an inconvenient hour?’

Her answer came in the form of a light kiss on the cheek. He wanted to enfold her in his arms, but she moved to a seat and gestured for him to sit opposite her. There was a long pause as they simply luxuriated in the pleasure of being together again. Nicholas let a tidal wave of fond memories wash over him. When it passed, he was left with a profound sense of loss and of waste. Why had he walked away from a house which had given him so much happiness?

‘What did you play this afternoon?’ she asked.

‘ The Maids of Honour .’

‘I have seen the piece more than once.’

‘Not quite as it was performed today,’ he said wryly. ‘John Tallis came to grief at a most unfortunate moment. His voice broke as he was about to marry the Prince of Navarre.’

‘Poor boy!’

‘He is a man now.’

Nicholas recounted the incident in full and the two of them were soon sharing a chuckle. It was just like old times when the book holder would repair to his lodging and divert her with tales from the innyard of the Queen’s Head. Each day brought new adventures. A theatre company inhabited a world of extremes. Anne was a kind audience, interested and responsive, always rejoicing in the heady triumphs of Westfield’s Men while sympathising with their numerous disasters. Her bright-eyed curiosity in his work was one of the things that he missed most.

‘How goes it with you?’ he asked softly.

‘The business fares well.’

‘Good.’

‘We are to take on a new apprentice.’

‘Preben will teach him his trade.’

‘I have learnt much from him myself.’

Nicholas nodded. ‘And the house?’

‘What about it?’

‘Do you have a lodger here?’

‘That is my affair,’ she said with a note of gentle reprimand. ‘As it happens, there is nobody here at the moment, but that situation may change.’ She looked at him with a cautious affection. ‘Why did you come?’

‘To see you.’

‘For what purpose?’

‘My own pleasure. Do I need a larger reason?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not when that pleasure is mutual.’

She met his gaze and Nicholas thought of a dozen compliments he wished to pay. All of them had to be held back because there was now an obstacle between them. Until the intrusive figure of Ambrose Robinson were removed, he did not feel able to express his true feelings to her.

‘A peculiar visitor called on me this morning,’ he said.

‘Who might that be?’

‘Raphael Parsons.’

‘Peculiar, indeed! Why did he come?’

‘To ascertain the facts about the discovery of Cyril Fulbeck’s corpse. Master Parsons had already questioned James Ingram on the matter. This morning, it was my turn.’

‘Is he the beast that he is reputed to be?’

‘Far from it, Anne.’

‘Maligned by report, then?’

‘Not entirely,’ said Nicholas. ‘He is a lawyer by training. He knows what to hide and what to show. Like most lawyers, he has the touch of an actor about him. I found him pleasant enough and remarkably candid. The Chapel Children no doubt see aspects of him that were concealed from me.’

‘They loathe him.’

‘So I am told.’

‘You saw the letters written by Philip Robinson.’

‘I did, Anne.’

‘They speak of a cruel master, who makes them work hard and who beats them into submission if they try to disobey. Philip is more or less a prisoner there.’

‘That is not what Master Parsons says.’

‘Oh?’

‘He claims that the boy is very happy at Blackfriars.’

‘ Happy ? It is one long ordeal for Philip!’

‘So his father alleges.’

‘You read the boy’s own testimony.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Nicholas. ‘That is why I found Master Parsons’s denial surprising. Why does it contradict the lad’s version of events so completely?’

‘The man must be lying.’

‘That was not my impression.’

‘What other explanation can there be?’

Nicholas let her question hang in the air for a moment.

‘How well do you know Philip?’ he said at length.

‘Reasonably well. He lived but a step away from here.’

‘Did you see much of him?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘He was a quiet boy. Always polite but rather diffident. And very lonely after his mother’s sad death. Philip was almost invisible. Until Sundays, that is.’

‘Sundays?’

‘When he sang in the choir. He came alive then. I have never seen a child take such a delight in singing the praises of God. His little face would light up with joy.’

‘Does he not have that same joy in the Chapel Royal?’

‘I fear not.’

‘What chorister would not relish the opportunity of singing before Her Majesty?’

‘His pleasure is marred by the misery he endures at the Blackfriars Theatre, where he is forced to be an actor.’

‘By Raphael Parsons.’

‘Even so. Philip’s father has told you all.’

‘Has he?’

She grew defensive. ‘Of course. Do you doubt Ambrose?’

‘Not if you can vouch for him.’

‘I can, Nick.’

‘I see.’ He felt a flicker of jealousy. ‘You and he seem well acquainted.’

‘He is a neighbour and a friend.’

‘Does he have no closer hold on you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nathan Curtis has observed you in church together.’

‘So that is it!’ she said, stiffening. ‘You have set your carpenter to spy on us.’

‘Not at all, Anne. He vouchsafed the information.’

‘In answer to your prompting.’

‘I simply wondered if he knew Ambrose Robinson.’

‘This is unworthy of you, Nick.’

‘If I am engaged to help the man, I am entitled to know as much about him as I can. Nathan’s opinion of your friend was helpful. It confirms my own impression.’

‘You do not like Ambrose, I know that.’

‘My concern is that you do , Anne. Sufficient to walk to church with him on a Sunday and to kneel beside him.’

‘That is my choice.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes!’ she said, rising angrily from her seat. ‘If you have come to turn me against Ambrose, you have come in vain. I live my own life, Nick, and you are no longer part of it. I am grateful to you for the help you have offered, but it does not give you the right to meddle in my private affairs.’

‘I do it out of affection.’

‘Then express that affection in a more seemly way.’