Peter Tremayne - An Ensuing Evil and Others

“Perhaps we should ask her?”

“Truly, good Master Constable, we cannot oblige you in this, for she had only just left to go to the market by the cathedral.”

Master Drew sighed. “I will be back soon. In the meantime, no one must enter into the room of Master Keeling. Understand?”

Pentecost Penhallow nodded glumly. “But when may we clear the room, master? It is not pleasing to have a corpse lying abed there for when the vapors do be emanating-”

“I will be back before midday,” the constable cut him short, and left the Red Boar Inn, still clutching the script he had gathered from the floor of Keeling’s room.

Although it was still early in the day, he made his way directly to the circular Globe playhouse, which was only a ten-minute walk away. He was greeted by the elderly gatekeeper, Master Jasper.

“A good day, Master Constable. You are abroad early.” The old man touched his cap in respectful greeting.

“Indeed, I am, and surprised to see you here at this hour.”

“Ah, they are rehearsing inside this morning.” The old man jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“I had hoped as much. I’ll lay a wager with you, good Jasper.” The constable smiled in good humor. “I’ll wager you what new play is in rehearsal.”

The old doorkeeper laughed. “I know well enough not to lay wagers with the Constable of the Watch. But for curiosity’s sake, do make your guess.”

“The Life of King Henry the Fifth.”

“The very same,” chuckled Master Jasper in appreciation.

“Is Master Hal Cavendish playing in it?”

“You have a good memory for the names of our players,” observed the old man. “But young Hal Cavendish be an unhappy man because Hal cannot play Hal in this production.”

“Explain?” asked Master Drew, allowing the old gatekeeper a few moments to chuckle at his own obscure joke.

“Young Hal Cavendish fancied himself as playing the leading part of King Hal but now must make do with the part of the Dauphin. He is bitter. He is understudying the part of King Hal, but if he could arrange an accident to he who plays the noble Harry Fifth, young Cavendish would lief as not be more than content.”

Master Drew stroked the side of his nose with a lean forefinger. “Is that the truth of it?”

“Aye, truth and more. Hal Cavendish is a vain young man when it comes to an assessment of his talents, and that is no lie. Mind you, good Constable, all those who tread the boards beyond are of a muchness in that vanity.”

“Do you also have a player called Will Keeling in the band of King’s Players?”

To Master Drews surprise, Master Jasper shook his head.

“Then tell me, out of interest, who plays the part of Henry the Fifth, whose role Hal Cavendish so desires?”

“Ah, a young Hibernian. Whelton Keehan. He has newly joined the company.”

Master Drew raised a cynical eyebrow. “Whelton Keehan, eh. What manner of young man is he? Can you describe him?”

Master Jasper was good at descriptions, and at the end of his speech, the constable pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I would have a word with Master Cavendish, good Jasper,” he said.

The old man saw the grim look in his eyes. “Is something amiss, Constable?”

“Something is amiss.”

Master Jasper conducted the constable through the door and led the way into the circular auditorium of the theater.

An elderly lean-faced man was standing on stage with a sheaf of papers in his hand. There were a few other people about, but the central figure was a young man who stood striking a pose. One hand held a realistic-looking sword, while the other hand was on his waist and he was staring up into one of the galleries.

“Crispian Crispian shall never…,” he intoned, and was interrupted by an angry stamp of the foot of the lean man, who shook his wad of paper at him.

“God’s wounds! But you try my patience, Master Cavendish! Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by-! Do you aspire to rewrite the words of Master Shakespeare or can it be that you have grown indolent as the result of your previous success as Macduff? Let me tell you, good Master Cavendish, an actor is only as good as his last performance. Our production of Macbeth ended last night. You are now engaged to play the Dauphin in this play of Henry the Fifth , so why I am wasting time in coaching you to understudy the part of King Hal is beyond me.”

The young fair-haired man waited until the torrent had ended, and then he began again.

Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by

From, this day to the ending of the world

But we in it shall he remembered .

We few, we happy few, we band…

His voice trailed off as he suddenly noticed Master Hardy Drew standing nearby with folded arms.

The lean-faced man swung round. “And who might you be, who puts my players out of rhythm with their parts? Can you not see that we are in rehearsal?”

Master Drew smiled easily. “I would have a word with Master Cavendish.”

“Zoots!” bellowed the man, and seemed about to launch into a tirade when Master Jasper drew him to one side and whispered something.

“Very well, then,” sighed the man in irritation.

“Ten minutes is all we can spare. Have your word, master, and then depart in peace! We have a play to put on this night.”

The young man was frowning in annoyance as Master Drew approached him. “Do I know you, fellow?” he demanded haughtily.

“You will, fellow,” the constable replied in a jaunty tone. “I am Constable of the Bankside Watch.”

The announcement registered little change of expression on the players features. “What do you want of me?”

“I gather that you are a friend of Master Whelton Keehan.”

Hal Cavendish’s features formed a grimace of displeasure. “A friend? Not I! An unwilling colleague on these boards, this will I admit to. But he is no more than an acquaintance. If he is in trouble and needs money to bail him, then pray go to Master Cuthbert Burbage, who manages our company. Perhaps he will feel charitable. You will not extract a penny from me to help him.”

“I am afraid that he is beyond financial assistance.” Master Drew smiled grimly. Then without explaining further, he continued: “I understand that you accompanied him back to his lodgings last night?”

Hal Cavendish sniffed dismissively. “If you know that, then why ask?”

“Let me make it plain why I ask.” Master Drew’s voice rose in sudden anger at the young man’s conceit. “You stand in danger unless you answer me truthfully. Why was he known at his lodgings as Will Keeling?”

“It’s no crime,” Cavendish replied indifferently. “He was but a few months arrived in this city from Dublin and thought to better his prospects by passing himself off as a English gentleman at his lodgings. Poor fool-he had not two farthings to jingle in his pocket. I’ll grant you, he was a good actor, though. He borrowed props from here, costumes and paste jewelry to maintain his image at his lodgings and thus extend his credit with that sly old innkeeper. Ah… tell me, has his ruse been discovered? Are you carting him off to debtors’ prison?” Hal Cavendish began to laugh in good humor.

Master Drew waited patiently for him to pause in his mirth. “Why should that give you cause for merriment, Master Cavendish?”

“Because I now can play the part of King Hal in this production. Keehan was never right for the part. In truth, he was not. A Hibernian playing King Hal! Heaven forfend! That is why we argued last night.”

“Tell me, Master Cavendish, how did you leave Master Keehan? What was his condition?”

“Truth to tell, I left him this morning,” the young man admitted. “He was not in the best of tempers. We had been drinking after the last performance of Macbeth and visited one or two houses of… well, let us say, of ill repute. Then we fell to discussing tonight’s play.”