The Bawdy Basket

by Edward Marston

  ‘The gratitude is all mine,’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘I was a grieving widow until I met you. Now, I have the heart and happiness of a young girl.’

  ‘I will study to increase that happiness,’ he promised.

  ‘Will you, Edmund?’

  ‘Put me to the test.’

  She looked at him shrewdly. ‘What did you dislike most about your life?’

  ‘Its emptiness.’

  ‘Yet you were feted every afternoon at the Queen’s Head.’

  ‘Applause soon dies away. It has no tangible quality.’

  ‘What else will you be glad to leave behind?’

  ‘There are so many things,’ he said as he pondered. ‘Uncertainty, for a start. The fear that plague, fire or Puritan disapproval will drive us from our inn yard. Then there is the constant bickering of my fellows, the sheer pain of creation, the rowdiness of our audiences, the shortcomings of the Queen’s Head and the endless arguments with its miserable landlord. And one thing more, Avice.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The cruelty of my occupation.’

  ‘Cruelty?’

  ‘No matter how hard I work,’ he said gloomily, ‘no matter how cunningly I spin my webs of words, no matter how many different demands I try to answer, there is always someone to carp and criticise. Perfection is a mirage. I will never write the play that actors and audiences love without reservation. I inhabit a world of approximation. My plots are almost sound, my characters are nearly convincing, my verse borders on an excellence that I’ll never attain when I’m the servant of so many masters.’

  ‘And when you come to me?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll be a willing slave to one mistress.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll expect some mastery from you as well, Edmund.’

  ‘You shall have it in abundance.’

  ‘There will be times when I may choose to play the slave.’

  ‘That is more than I dare wish,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘I love you, Avice. Until you came into my life, I never appreciated what true love really was. We will be overwhelmed with ecstasy.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When we are together.’

  ‘I am glad that you mentioned that,’ she said, moving closer to him. ‘I have an idea I wish to put to you, Edmund.’

  It was mid-evening before Nicholas Bracewell climbed the stairs at his friend’s lodging. Francis Quilter occupied two small attic rooms that were draughty in winter and stuffy during summer months. Low beams obliged visitors to duck at several points. Scant furniture owed little to the carpenter’s art. The cheap accommodation was a testimony to Quilter’s commitment to his profession. As the son of a wealthy mercer, he could more easily have followed in his father’s wake and led a comfortable existence in a large house. Instead, he spurned the luxuries that were his birthright in favour of the more ambiguous joys of the playhouse. Prosperity was an irrelevance to him. The riches that Quilter sought lay hidden in the plays in which he performed. That was where his true wealth was to be found. Yet even those rewards were far from his mind now. Another mission had supplanted his quest for glory on the stage.

  ‘Henry Cleaton was more than helpful,’ he announced.

  ‘What did the lawyer tell you, Frank?’

  ‘No more than I expected to hear. Justice Haygarth is not held in high regard with the legal profession. He has a reputation for being sly, supercilious and unnecessarily harsh on offenders.’

  ‘Can he be trusted?’

  ‘Not according to Henry Cleaton.’

  ‘How can such an unsuitable man become a magistrate?’

  ‘Patronage, Nick.’

  ‘It is the bane of our country,’ said Nicholas. ‘Those with influential friends will rise while more deserving people are pushed aside. It is shameful. Justice will never be dispensed fairly when it is in the hands of men like Master Haygarth!’

  ‘There is a more glaring example than him.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Think of the judge who sentenced my father to death,’ said Quilter. ‘The higher a man goes in the law, the greater the damage he is able to create. Henry Cleaton was the first to admit it. The judicial system is rife with corruption.’

  ‘How much did you tell him, Frank?’

  ‘Enough to whet his appetite.’

  ‘Is he of the same mind as us?’

  ‘Yes, Nick,’ replied the other, ‘but he advises care. He is a true lawyer. Caution is ever his cry. Nothing I divulged surprised him in any way. He is ready to believe the very worst of Sir Eliard Slaney.’

  ‘So am I now, Frank.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He had the gall to turn on Anne.’

  Nicholas told him about the visit to Lady Slaney that she had made that afternoon. Quilter was upset that he had been indirectly responsible for her discomfort at the house.

  ‘Anne should never have gone there on my account,’ he said. ‘It only deepens my feeling of guilt, Nick. I must not let my concerns put you or her in danger.’

  ‘That is not what happened.’

  ‘Yet you say that Sir Eliard turned on her.’

  ‘Anne is well able to look after herself,’ said Nicholas proudly. ‘Besides, his anger was checked by the presence of his wife and of Preben Van Loew. As for the loss of custom that ensued, she sees it as a blessing in disguise.’

  ‘It might shortly have been curtailed in any case.’

  ‘I hope so, Frank. If we are able to put Sir Eliard and his friends where they belong, Lady Slaney will have no income to pay for her expensive tastes. It is clear that her husband has beguiled her completely. She knows nothing of his villainy.’

  ‘The woman has been living in a fool’s paradise.’

  ‘Not for much longer,’ said Nicholas. ‘What you have learnt about Justice Haygarth is no more than we suspected but his name has yet to be linked to Sir Eliard. Is there any means by which we can do that?’

  ‘Henry Cleaton willingly took on that office.’

  ‘Good. This lawyer is proving his worth.’

  ‘He never doubted that the evidence against my father was false and vindictive,’ said Quilter. ‘Yet he was unable to save him. It troubles him like a deep wound. He will do all in his power to assist us.’

  ‘So will Lightfoot,’ recalled Nicholas. ‘We must not forget him.’

  ‘What help can he offer?’

  ‘He has already placed Justice Haygarth at the fair for us and I am sure there is more assistance he can render. Moll Comfrey was a creature of the fair, Frank. That was her universe. Lightfoot is our guide and we’ll not find a more eager man.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘He loved Moll as a friend. He begs to be of use.’

  ‘We need all the support that we can muster.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘and we have gathered plenty already. The tumbler and the lawyer have been staunch allies, and Anne has been in a position to offer particular help. Then there is Lawrence Firethorn,’ he added. ‘Without his agreement to release you from the company, none of our enquiries would have been possible.’

  ‘I’ll hope to repay him in due course.’

  ‘You will do that best by exonerating your father.’

  ‘I know, Nick. What is the next step to be?’

  ‘That must be taken by you and by Lightfoot. I am somewhat preoccupied, Frank. You may be liberated from the company but I must attend a rehearsal and performance tomorrow. Until late afternoon, I’ll not be able to join the hunt.’

  ‘Direct us instead.’

  ‘Lightfoot will continue his work at Bartholomew Fair,’ said Nicholas. ‘It was the blacksmith who spoke with Justice Haygarth but there may be someone at Smithfield who caught a glimpse of a more sinister visitor at midnight. If there was such a witness, Lightfoot will track him down.’

  ‘What of me?’

  ‘Return to your lawyer in the morning, Frank. We do not simply need evidence of a friendship between Sir Eliard Slaney and a corr
upt magistrate. There is someone else whom we must scrutinise.’

  ‘Who is that, Nick?’

  ‘The person whom we have forgotten,’ Nicholas reminded him. ‘Vincent Webbe, the murder victim. We know why Sir Eliard Slaney wanted to wreak his revenge on your father, but he must also have had a strong reason to see Master Webbe killed. What was his motive and whom did he hire to carry out the murder? Look to Vincent Webbe,’ he advised. ‘There may be matter in it.’

  Opinions at the Queen’s Head were still divided with regard to the execution of Gerard Quilter. As they sat around a table in the taproom, Barnaby Gill, Owen Elias and James Ingram jousted once more. Gill was emphatic.

  ‘Lawrence should show leadership for once and ban Frank from the company.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ asked Elias.

  ‘The name of Quilter brings opprobrium to Westfield’s Men.’

  ‘So does the name of Barnaby Gill.’

  Gill bridled. ‘There is no need to descend to insult.’

  ‘Then stop insulting one of your own fellows.’

  ‘Barnaby did not mean to do that,’ said Ingram, trying to calm them down. ‘He has a high regard for Frank Quilter as an actor, as do we all. Unfortunately, this business has tainted his name. Any ballad-maker will sell you a song about the foul murder of Vincent Webbe. The name of Quilter is on everyone’s lips.’

  ‘That does not mean we turn our back on Frank,’ said Elias.

  ‘We have to bow to circumstance, Owen.’

  ‘James shows the sense that you lack,’ said Gill, jabbing a finger at the Welshman. ‘I took Frank to be an honourable fellow but I was mistaken. Anyone else in his predicament would have resigned from the company to spare it any damage.’

  ‘That is what he has done, Barnaby,’ said Elias.

  ‘He has merely withdrawn from us and left us short of a good actor. Were he to quit, we would be able to replace him with a new sharer.’

  ‘There is some truth in what Barnaby says,’ decided Ingram.

  Elias turned on him. ‘Will you desert Frank Quilter as well?’

  ‘A complete rest from the playhouse might be in his best interests.’

  ‘What would you have him do, James? Skulk away from London?’

  ‘Most people in his position would prefer the shadows.’

  ‘Only if they believed their father to be guilty.’

  ‘As he patently was in this case,’ insisted Gill.

  Ingram sighed. ‘The evidence against him left no room for doubt, Owen.’

  ‘It did in Frank’s mind,’ said Elias, ‘and in Nick Bracewell’s. They’ll turn the city upside down in the search for the truth.’

  ‘I fear that we already know the truth. Gerard Quilter was guilty.’

  ‘Meanwhile,’ said Gill irritably, ‘we are deprived of an actor who should be replaced, and saddled with a book holder whose concentration is elsewhere.’

  Elias banged the table. ‘That’s a foul calumny!’

  ‘I agree,’ said Ingram. ‘Nobody does his work more conscientiously than Nick Bracewell. That was an unjust remark, Barnaby.’

  ‘Was it?’ retorted Gill. ‘Then why did he rush off as soon as the performance was over this afternoon? It was to help Frank Quilter in a fruitless search for evidence. How can Nicholas fulfil his obligations when his mind is elsewhere?’

  Elias and Ingram joined forces to refute the accusation. They were still defending Nicholas strongly when Lawrence Firethorn bore down on them. His arrival brought the argument to a halt. Attention shifted to a more immediate threat to the company.

  ‘Well, Lawrence,’ asked Elias, ‘did you visit the lady?’

  ‘I did,’ said Firethorn, forcing a smile, ‘and I was warmly received.’

  ‘In her bedchamber, I hope.’

  ‘Our meeting lacked that particular delight, Owen.’

  ‘But that was the reason we detained Edmund,’ said the Welshman. ‘You swore to us that you could quash this romance in the wink of an eye, if you were but left alone with Mistress Radley for a short while.’

  Firethorn cleared his throat. ‘That course of action proved superfluous.’

  ‘She rejected him,’ announced Gill.

  ‘Quite the reverse, Barnaby. It was I who had to fight her off.’

  ‘I have never known you resist such advances before.’

  ‘Nor I,’ added Ingram.

  Elias was suspicious. ‘What happened at Mistress Radley’s house?’

  ‘The lady began to see reason,’ replied Firethorn.

  ‘Reason to leave Edmund alone?’

  ‘It fell short of that, Owen. What I convinced her to do was to think about the effect his departure would have on Westfield’s Men. In short, I changed her mind.’

  ‘It does not sound like it to me, Lawrence,’ said Gill. ‘You boasted that you could charm the lady into bed and make her forget that Edmund Hoode even existed. I fancy that you have come back empty-handed.’

  ‘No, Barnaby!’

  ‘Then what did you actually achieve?’ wondered Ingram.

  ‘Time to reflect,’ said Firethorn.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On what she is doing. Avice Radley is an intelligent woman. She appreciated the cogency of my argument. It will prevent her from making any rash decisions. That was my achievement, gentlemen,’ he said, almost believing it himself. ‘I have bought additional time. Edmund will be ours for longer than we thought. That will give us more opportunity to work on him – and on his beloved.’

  Gill was derisive. ‘Is that all you have brought back? A stay of execution?’

  ‘Have faith in my powers of persuasion, Barnaby.’

  ‘They are at their best between the sheets of a bed,’ observed Elias.

  Firethorn ordered a drink and tried to move the conversation away from the delicate subject of Avice Radley. The others were plainly disturbed. Hoping for a positive result from his visit to the lady, they sensed that it had only made the situation worse. Gill was especially fearful, predicting the collapse of Westfield’s Men.

  ‘Without Edmund, we are all doomed!’ he cried.

  ‘I admit that I’d sooner lose you from the company,’ said Firethorn spitefully.

  ‘But I am its unrivalled clown.’

  ‘Comic jigs are more easily replaced than a talented playwright.’

  ‘We need both,’ said Ingram, ‘so stop baiting Barnaby. He has no equal.’

  Gill was mollified. ‘Thank you, James. It is a relief to know that I have one friend in the company.’

  ‘Two,’ said Elias with an affectionate grin. ‘We have our differences, Barnaby, but I’ve never seen a clown who could hold a candle to you. Like the rest of us, however, you shine best when Edmund has supplied the opportunity. We must not lose him.’

  ‘Nor shall we,’ insisted Firethorn with false confidence. ‘Leave him to me.’

  But they would not relent. They continued to bombard him with questions about his visit to Avice Radley until they had him in open retreat. Firethorn was grateful when relief arrived in the form of Nicholas Bracewell. He embraced the book holder.

  ‘Thank heaven you have come, dear heart!’ he said. ‘I need your help.’

  ‘It is yours for the asking,’ offered Nicholas. ‘What has happened?’

  Gill was malicious. ‘Lawrence has been spurned by a woman at last. He waggled his codpiece at Mistress Radley and she sent him on his way.’

  ‘That is untrue!’ howled Firethorn.

  Nicholas was worried. ‘Did you call on the lady?’

  ‘Yes, Nick.’

  ‘Was that wise?’

  ‘I thought so at the time. Barnaby and Owen distracted Edmund so that I could pay my respects without interruption.’ He turned to the others. ‘And I did put our case with vigour,’ he insisted.

  ‘You promised to reserve your vigour for her bedchamber,’ said Elias.

  ‘Was that the device?’ asked Nicholas with disgust. ‘I am glad that I had no
part in it. What a cruel way to treat Edmund after all he has done for the company. Had you succeeded, you might have blighted this romance but you would certainly have put Edmund to flight. Could you really expect him to stay with fellows who would descend to such underhand means?’

  ‘He need never have known he truth, Nick,’ bleated Firethorn. ‘I hoped to charm the lady in such a way that she would not even agree to see him again.’

  ‘Your charms grow weary, Lawrence,’ teased Gill.

  Elias chuckled. ‘You should have sent me.’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘It is not a subject for mockery. Edmund loves the lady. The romance may not suit our purposes but that is no reason to destroy it utterly. Edmund is our friend and deserves to be treated with more respect.’

  ‘Nick speaks well,’ agreed Ingram. ‘Your behaviour was gross.’

  ‘We were forced into it by desperation,’ said Firethorn.

  ‘It was you who did the forcing, Lawrence,’ noted Gill. ‘Owen and I were mere accomplices. You were the author of the device.’

  ‘It might have worked, it might have worked.’

  ‘Plainly, it did not,’ said Nicholas. ‘What will the consequences be?’

  ‘Have no qualms on that account,’ said Firethorn airily. ‘Where charm failed, reason took a hold. I am convinced that I made Mistress Radley reconsider her actions.’

  Nicholas was stern. ‘I hope that you regret yours.’

  ‘You should, Lawrence,’ said Ingram. ‘They were ill-founded.’

  ‘We were fools to think you could ever succeed,’ concluded Gill.

  ‘Enough of my adventures,’ said Firethorn, trying to wave the topic away with a swing of his arm. ‘Let’s hear what Nick has to say. Edmund will stay with us for at least a month. Frank Quilter has already gone. When may we expect him back, Nick?’

  ‘Never, if the decision were mine,’ said Gill.

  ‘It is not, Barnaby.’

  ‘You and he have brought disgrace upon the company, Lawrence.’

  ‘Frank is determined to remove all hint of disgrace,’ said Nicholas, interrupting the row before it could develop. ‘We are not only certain that his father was innocent of the charge of murder, we have gathered sufficient evidence to prove it. All that we need is a little more information before we can seek a review of the case.’