The Bawdy Basket

by Edward Marston

  ‘And stout friends they were to her,’ noted Quilter.

  ‘Just like your father.’

  ‘The magistrate must be involved, Nick. Apart from us, he was the only person aware of the damning evidence that Moll could give in court. He passed on the news to confederates.’ Quilter became animated, bunching his fists in anger. ‘Justice Haygarth has betrayed us. It is too great a coincidence that Moll should be killed on the very day that she comes forward as a witness.’

  ‘I agree, Frank. But we still rely on conjecture.’

  ‘We have linked Sir Eliard Slaney with the two false witnesses,’ said Quilter. ‘There’s no hint of conjecture there.’

  ‘Linking them together was not difficult,’ Nicholas pointed out, ‘especially as Cyril Paramore is employed by Sir Eliard. Proving that they were in league to send your father to the gallows will not be so straightforward. And the role of the slippery Justice Haygarth still remains unclear.’

  ‘Not to me, Nick. He’s another accomplice.’

  ‘We would need to be absolutely sure of that before we accuse a magistrate. His position as a justice of the peace is a strong defence in itself. Accuse him and he would bring an action for slander against us.’

  ‘Challenge him about his visit to Smithfield yesterday.’

  ‘He would deny it outright. What then, Frank?’

  ‘We have the word of the blacksmith.’

  ‘Will it stand up in court against that of a duly appointed magistrate? And even if it did,’ said Nicholas, ‘what would we achieve? There is nothing to prevent anyone from visiting Smithfield. We may prove that he was there but that will not convince anyone that he was contemplating murder.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ rejoined Quilter. ‘Let us go back to his house. Confront him with the blanket used to smother Moll Comfrey.’

  Nicholas shook his head. ‘It would be a waste of time,’ he decided. ‘Whoever owned that blanket, it was not Justice Haygarth. You met the man, Frank. He may be a deceitful rogue but he is no killer. Can you imagine him creeping through Bartholomew Fair at night with intent to commit murder?’

  ‘No, Nick,’ conceded the other. ‘He’d lack the nerve.’

  ‘So would Bevis Millburne. He’s too fat and slovenly for such work. I have my doubts about Master Paramore as well. He’s young and strong enough to do the deed but would be found wanting in other ways. No, Frank,’ he concluded, ‘I’d absolve all three of them. All four, since we must include the name of Sir Eliard Slaney. Remember what we saw at the pieman’s booth. I think the crime was the work of a hired assassin.’

  Quilter was scornful. ‘Sir Eliard pays others to do his dirty work for him.’

  ‘What we need is proof that Justice Haygarth has taken his bribes.’

  ‘How do we find that?’

  ‘Go back to Master Cleaton,’ advised Nicholas. ‘Lawyers pick up all the gossip about magistrates. Ask him what he knows about Justice Haygarth and whether the man is worthy of the position he occupies.’

  ‘He disgraces it, Nick.’

  ‘Then we must expose him. But only if we have sufficient evidence.’

  ‘I’ll speak with Henry Cleaton at once.’

  ‘Good. I’ll make my way to Bankside.’

  ‘Shall I join you there?’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘We’ll meet at your lodging. It will give us the privacy we need to trade what intelligence we gather.’

  ‘But it is such a long walk from Bankside for you.’

  ‘That is why I’ll spare my legs. I’ll borrow a horse from Anne this evening and ride back over the bridge. I’d not been in the saddle for weeks until today. It is by far the quickest way to get around the city.’

  ‘What time shall I expect you?’

  ‘As soon as may be,’ said Nicholas. ‘But I must speak to Anne first. She called on Lady Slaney today to discuss the design for a new hat. Anne may have gathered further information for us about Lady Slaney’s husband. He is the crucial figure here.’

  Sir Eliard Slaney found that the easiest route to marital harmony was to indulge the whims of his wife, at whatever cost. It kept Lady Slaney happy and, more important, out of his way. While he provided the money, she supplied the marriage with decoration and respectability. It had always seemed a good bargain until now.

  ‘I’ll not hear of it, Eliard!’ she protested.

  ‘The decision has already been made, my dear.’

  ‘All my hats are made by Preben van Loew.’

  ‘His interest in your wardrobe ceases forthwith.’

  ‘But why? He is a magician at his trade.’

  ‘It is his employer that I distrust,’ said her husband. ‘Mistress Hendrik is far too inquisitive. She was here to design a new hat for you, not to ask questions about me.’

  ‘You are bound to provoke curiosity, Eliard.’

  ‘It was rather more than curiosity.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she insisted. ‘Anne Hendrik is the most polite of women. She would never pry into our personal affairs. If you must blame anyone, blame me. I love to trumpet your achievements abroad. And why not?’ she asked, touching him on the arm. ‘My husband is a rich and successful man. I am surely entitled to sing his praises.’

  ‘That is not what you were doing, Rebecca.’

  ‘It was, it was.’

  ‘My presence at a public execution is hardly a cause for praise.’

  The couple were in their bedchamber, a large, low room with carved panelling that gleamed all round them. While her husband worked himself up into a rage, Lady Slaney surveyed the collection of hats set out on an oak table.

  ‘They are my pride and joy,’ she said fondly.

  ‘They can continue to be so, my dear,’ he told her. ‘But they must no longer be purchased from the same milliner.’

  ‘Why not, Eliard?’

  ‘Because I say so.’

  ‘I would never presume to tell you where to buy your hats. Why do you try to take away my freedom of choice?’

  ‘Because it has been abused.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘The woman who was here earlier, Rebecca,’ he said vehemently. ‘How did she even know that I went to Smithfield for the execution? What business is it of hers what I do with my time? She was interrogating you. I’ll not have this Anne Hendrik in the house again. Do you understand?’

  ‘Then I’ll visit her in Bankside.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I forbid it.’

  ‘Would you stop me from selecting my milliner?’

  ‘I’ll prevent you from ever seeing this one again,’ he asserted. ‘London has no shortage of milliners. Find another to make your hats.’

  ‘When I already have the best available?’ she argued, picking up her most recent purchase. ‘Look at it. Preben van Loew is a master of his craft.’

  ‘Forget that melancholy Dutchman.’

  ‘I need his skills to enhance my beauty.’

  ‘My word is final,’ he said with exasperation. ‘Why do you disobey me?’

  ‘Because I have just cause.’

  ‘Rebecca!’

  ‘I do, Eliard,’ she pleaded. ‘It is every woman’s right to employ the dressmakers and milliners that she finds most congenial. Anne Hendrik has become a friend.’

  ‘Only in order to spy on me.’

  ‘Why on earth should she want to do that?’

  ‘Never you mind.’

  ‘But I do mind, Eliard,’ she said tenaciously. ‘I’ve been a good wife and never once ventured to disagree with you. No husband could have less to complain about. You must admit that. On one thing, however, I must assert my privilege. Humour me, sir,’ she cooed. ‘It is little enough to ask, surely?’ She held up the hat for inspection. ‘Have you ever seen a more exquisite piece of work than this?’

  Her husband exploded. Grabbing the hat, he flung it against the wall with such force that most of its jewelled accessories were dislodged. Lady Slaney let
out a cry of horror and tried to pick up the hat. Firm hands took her by the shoulders and swung her round. Sir Eliard Slaney was in no mood for resistance from her.

  ‘Do as I tell you, Rebecca!’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said between sobs.

  ‘There’s more to this than you could understand.’

  ‘If you say so, Eliard.’

  ‘She dwells in Bankside, you say?’

  ‘That is true.’

  ‘Where?’ he demanded. ‘I need to know her address.’

  Anne Hendrik’s account was both interesting and alarming. While he was pleased with the information she had gained, Nicholas was disturbed that she had fallen foul of Sir Eliard Slaney. He blamed himself for putting her in a position of danger.

  ‘It was wrong of me to send you again so soon, Anne.’

  ‘I went at Lady Slaney’s request.’

  ‘And asked questions at mine,’ he said. ‘Because of that, you are like to lose your most lucrative source of income.’

  ‘I would hardly have retained it much longer if Sir Eliard is the monster you take him to be. He frightened me, Nick,’ she confessed. ‘Had I not had Preben with me, I might have endured more than merely his reproach.’

  He took her in his arms. ‘Can you forgive me?’

  ‘The fault is as much mine as yours.’

  ‘No, Anne.’

  ‘It was,’ she said. ‘I should have been more careful. But once Lady Slaney begins to talk, it is difficult to make her stop. I sought to take advantage of the fact by feeding her questions. It was foolish of me not to see her husband enter.’

  ‘What you found out was well worth the visit.’

  ‘Then I am content.’

  He kissed her on the lips and embraced her warmly to show his concern. They were in the parlour of the house in Bankside. Nicholas had returned from Bartholomew Fair at as brisk a pace as the busy streets and a crowded London Bridge would allow. He was glad that he had made the effort to see Anne. After her unpleasant confrontation with Sir Eliard Slaney, she needed the sort of comfort and reassurance that Preben van Loew could never offer.

  ‘What of your day, Nick?’ she asked.

  ‘It has been filled with surprises.’

  ‘I want to hear about each one of them.’

  ‘Then I must start with the visit of Lightfoot.’

  Nicholas told her about the letter that was discovered in Moll Comfrey’s basket and what transpired when the missive was delivered to the lawyer. He also gave her a full description of the visit to Smithfield. Her sympathy was immediately aroused.

  ‘Poor Frank!’ she said. ‘It must have been torture for him to return to the very place where his father was executed.’

  ‘I could see that the memory haunted him.’

  ‘He has been through so much in these past few days.’

  ‘Frank will gladly undergo far more in order to vindicate his father.’

  ‘I still do not understand why Gerard Quilter was falsely accused.’

  ‘It was an act of revenge, Anne,’ said Nicholas. ‘Sir Eliard Slaney had many bruising encounters with him in court and never forgave him for the courageous way that Gerard Quilter defended his brother’s property.’

  ‘But how would he know when to strike?’

  ‘By choosing the moment with care.’

  ‘The meeting with Vincent Webbe was a pure accident, surely,’ she said. ‘How could Sir Eliard have known that the two men would clash like that?’

  ‘Because he arranged it.’

  ‘Arranged it?’

  ‘That’s my guess,’ he said. ‘You forget my occupation, Anne. I spend my whole working day helping to devise effects onstage. I can discern contrivance when I see it elsewhere. Gerard Quilter lived in the country and only visited London rarely. One of those occasions was the annual banquet at his guild hall. Knowing that he would be there, I suspect that Sir Eliard arranged for Master Webbe to be nearby when Frank’s father arrived. That is where their brawl took place, close by the Mercers’ Hall in Cheapside. Vincent Webbe provoked the argument.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He had reasons of his own to hate Gerard Quilter.’

  ‘And you believe he was set on?’

  ‘No question but that he was.’

  Anne was confused. ‘Then his murder was premeditated?’

  ‘It had to be,’ he reasoned. ‘The brawl took place on one day yet the victim, as we now know, met his death the following night. A definite plan was followed, Anne. Moll Comfrey was the only person who could have absolved Gerard Quilter in court but he was unable to call her in his defence.’

  ‘And the voices of two witnesses sent him to the gallows.’

  ‘Two false witnesses, paid and instructed by Sir Eliard Slaney.’

  ‘It accords with my experience of the man,’ she said. ‘Lady Slaney praises her husband to the skies but I saw another side of is character today. When he came into that room, there were murder dancing in his eyes. I was terrified, Nick.’

  ‘You’ll not have to go through that ordeal again.’

  Anne smiled. ‘Then I’ll be saved from a further agony,’ she said. ‘Lady Slaney all but talks my ears off. I may lose her custom but I’ll also be spared that garrulous tongue of hers.’

  Nicholas embraced her again. He stayed long enough to restore her confidence before making his excuses to leave. Anne readily acceded to his request to borrow the horse from her stable. She stopped him at the door.

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘To see what Frank Quilter has learnt from the lawyer.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘To the Queen’s Head,’ he said. ‘I promised to tell Lawrence Firethorn what progress we are making. He wants Frank back in harness as soon as possible. The loss of a good actor like Frank is a bitter blow to the company. Though not,’ he added, ‘as profound a loss as that of our playwright.’

  ‘That shocks me, Nick,’ she said anxiously. ‘Edmund Hoode is such a loyal fellow. Can he really mean to desert Westfield’s Men in this way?’

  ‘So he affirms. But his plan may yet be thwarted. Lawrence Firethorn has a scheme to halt Edmund in his tracks,’ said Nicholas. ‘I hope it meets with success.’

  Edmund Hoode was horrified at the news. He realised how he had been duped.

  ‘So that is why Barnaby and Owen kept me distracted for so long!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Avice Radley. ‘He wanted to visit me without impediment.’

  ‘What did Lawrence say?’

  ‘Exactly what you warned me he would say.’

  ‘Did he try to charm you into acquiescence?’

  ‘He tried and failed, Edmund.’

  ‘This is unforgivable,’ he said, stamping a foot. ‘Lawrence had no business to interfere in my private life. How did he even know where to find you?’

  ‘I fancy that he somehow always manages to learn what he wishes to know. When I first heard the knock on my front door, I hoped that it was you. Instead,’ she went on, ‘it was Master Firethorn, as bold as brass.’

  ‘He should never be left alone with any lady, least of all mine.’

  ‘I was proof against his wiles.’

  Hoode beamed. ‘I never doubted you for a moment, Avice.’

  ‘Forewarned was forearmed.’

  ‘Every woman in London needs to be warned about Lawrence.’

  Hoode was agitated. When he arrived at Avice Radley’s house, his euphoria had vanished as soon as he heard about her earlier visitor. He was vengeful. His resolve was steeled even more. Seated beside her in the parlour, his eyes sparkled with determination.

  In trying to keep me, he has only managed to drive me away more speedily.’

  ‘There’ll be worse to come, Edmund.’

  ‘Worse?’

  ‘I think so,’ she cautioned. ‘You know your friend better than I do, but I sense that he is not a man to give up at the first repulse. Master Firethorn will be back before long with another stratagem.’
/>   Hoode was defiant. ‘I’ll not let him make trial of your virtue again, Avice.’

  ‘He’ll use other means next time.’

  ‘Not if I order him to stay clear of my beloved.’

  ‘Master Firethorn is not inclined to obey orders. He prefers to issue them.’

  ‘Too true,’ he agreed. ‘You have caught his essence there. Lawrence has the habit of command, but I have tired of being told what to do and when to do it. As an actor, he is supreme. As a husband, he is unreliable. As a friend, alas, he can be duplicitous.’

  ‘What of the others?’

  ‘They, too, have tried to persuade me to stay.’

  ‘Have you been swayed by their arguments?’

  ‘Not an inch, Avice. My only commitment is to you.’

  ‘And to your work,’ she corrected.

  ‘That, too, naturally,’ he said, ‘though it will be solely in your service. I can imagine nothing more wonderful than writing sonnets in praise of the woman who has transformed my life. It is strange,’ he mused, stroking her hand. ‘A week ago, I would not have believed that anyone could separate me from Westfield’s Men. The theatre has been my life for so long. It has brought me heady triumphs and dear friends. Yet now I am ready to turn my back on them without a hint of regret.’

  ‘There must be some remorse, surely?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’

  She was pleased. ‘Are you so completely mine, then?’

  ‘Wholly yours, my love. Before we met,’ he explained, ‘I only dwelt on the more pleasant aspects of working with Westfield’s Men. They have been my family, Avice. But since I met you, I see the defects of such a life. It is narrow, selfish and vainglorious. I pretend that I have the freedom to write but it is a poor sort of liberty. I have to meet Lawrence’s demands and Barnaby’s requests and serve the needs of an audience made up of everyone from mean apprentices to pampered courtiers. When I am at the beck and call of so many competing demands, wherein lies my freedom?’

  ‘Only in your imagination, Edmund.’

  ‘I want the privilege of writing what I choose to write.’

  ‘Then I am the person who is able to grant it to you.’

  ‘I’ll be eternally grateful, Avice.’