The Bawdy Basket

by Edward Marston

  ‘That is the last thing I will do.’

  ‘I have a family interest here. You do not.’

  Nicholas was insistent. ‘The call of friendship brought me to your side and there I’ll stay. It is not only you that I help, remember. When we clear your father’s name, the company will also profit. They will regain a fine actor called Frank Quilter and their book holder’s mind will not stray from his duties.’

  ‘Westfield’s Men will not profit if their book holder is murdered.’

  ‘Then I’ll ensure that it will not happen,’ said Nicholas with a confident smile.

  ‘Take me with you wherever you go.’

  ‘It is you who may need a bodyguard, Frank. I do not expect another attack on me. My assailant has more sense than to risk his neck again. No,’ he went on, frowning with concern, ‘he may come in search of you next time. This, after all, is an investigation set in motion by you. If they kill Frank Quilter, they will hope to prevent any further enquiry into the trial and conviction of your father.’

  ‘I go abroad armed,’ said Quilter, indicating his sword and dagger.

  ‘A companion is the best defence.’

  ‘I might say the same to you, Nick.’

  They were in Quilter’s lodging. While the actor had remained at Bartholomew Fair to confirm certain facts, Nicholas had made his way to Turnmill Street. As arranged, they met up to discuss what each had learnt. A thought occurred to Quilter.

  ‘Can we be certain that the man was hired by Sir Eliard Slaney?’ he asked.

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘Could he not as easily have been some thief in search of your purse?’

  ‘He would not need to kill me in order to get that,’ reasoned Nicholas. ‘A thief would be more likely to cudgel me to the ground so that he could grab what he wanted. My attacker escaped on his horse, Frank. How many thieves in Turnmill Street own more than the clothes they stand up in? No doubt can exist,’ he emphasised. ‘I was followed there by an assassin who bided his time until he saw his opportunity to strike. He may well be the same man who trailed me to Bankside last night and who had earlier kept watch on Anne’s house.’

  ‘Would you know him again, Nick?’

  ‘I could recognise that mean face in a crowd. Do not look so worried,’ he said, with a reassuring hand on his friend’s arm. ‘The attack was foiled because it was not unexpected. I take it to be an encouraging sign.’

  Quilter gaped. ‘Where’s the encouragement in an attempt on your life?’

  ‘It shows how worried they are, Frank. We have made more progress than we know. Sir Eliard Slaney must be fearful if he needs to order another death. His spy has put Anne and me under the same roof, so he will know that I must have asked her to find out what she could from Lady Slaney.’

  ‘It grieves me that I’ve put Anne’s life in danger as well.’

  ‘I do not think that you have,’ said Nicholas. ‘What advantage would they gain by her death? You and I are the targets here. Besides, Anne is well-protected by those who work for her. Have no fears for her safety. And sit down,’ he advised, ‘so that I might tell you what I learnt from Vincent Webbe’s widow.’

  Quilter sat in the chair while Nicholas perched on the edge of the table. The actor listened attentively as his friend gave him a detailed account of the conversation in Slaughterhouse Yard. He seized on the name of Sir Eliard Slaney.

  ‘So it was he who told Vincent Webbe to approach my father that night.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘Secure in the knowledge that your father would turn down his old partner’s plea for a loan. Sir Eliard could also be certain that Vincent Webbe would lose his temper and become truculent. I daresay he also took care to see that Master Webbe had been drinking heavily before he accosted your father outside the Mercers’ Hall. Hot words were followed by a brawl.’

  ‘My father would never have provoked it.’

  ‘He did not need to, Frank. Imagine the situation,’ suggested Nicholas. ‘Vincent Webbe is an indigent man who has lost his standing in the world. He sees your father about to attend a banquet at the Mercers’ Hall because he is a respected member of the guild. His old partner must have been green with envy. When your father refused to lend him money, Vincent Webbe became choleric and struck out.’

  ‘With many witnesses nearby.’

  ‘Your father defended himself as best he could then Master Webbe skulked off. From all that I’ve heard about him,’ decided Nicholas, ‘I’d say that he sought solace in the nearest tavern. The next day he was stabbed to death in an alley near Mercers’ Hall and the blame was laid on your father.’

  ‘You have still not explained why Vincent Webbe had to be killed.’

  ‘His widow did that for me,’ said Nicholas. ‘She told me that her husband borrowed a great deal of money from Sir Eliard and was hounded for repayment. He grew belligerent and offered violence to the usurer. Sir Eliard would not endure that. Since there were two men whom he had reason to hate, he devised a plan to get rid of both in the most brutal way. Your father was falsely accused of the murder of his old partner, thereby removing both of Sir Eliard’s enemies at a stroke.’

  ‘Now I see it, Nick,’ said Quilter. ‘He has hit two marks with one shot.’

  ‘Or two birds with one stone.’

  ‘You were so wise to make a visit to Vincent’s Webbe’s widow.’

  ‘She is a good woman,’ recalled Nicholas, ‘still loyal to her husband, even though his dissipation brought about their downfall. I heard no word of reproach against him. I think that Vincent Webbe was loved far better than he deserved.’

  ‘So it seems.’

  ‘But what of you, Frank? How did you fare after my departure?’

  ‘Lightfoot took me to meet Hermat,’ said Quilter. ‘I wanted to hear his evidence from his own lips. Or her lips, as the case may be. What a strange creature Hermat was! Neither man nor woman, yet possessing the features of both. I tell you, Nick, I would not like to have been left alone with Hermat.’

  Nicholas laughed. ‘Did you think your virtue would be in danger?’

  ‘I simply did not know where to look.’

  ‘What did you learn?’

  ‘Exactly what Lightfoot had told us,’ explained Quilter. ‘Hermat saw the man around midnight, close by the pieman’s booth. But he remembered one new detail. When he noticed the fellow later, making off, they were close by a fire that had been lighted. Hermat was able to see him more clearly, albeit for a fleeting moment.’

  ‘What did he remember?’

  ‘The hat, Nick. The man was wearing a big hat with a tall feather in it.’

  Nicholas held up the hat that he had taken from his attacker.

  ‘Like this one?’

  Turmoil was Lawrence Firethorn’s natural element. True art, in his view, could not arise of itself without effort. It grew out of strife and conflict. Only when he had argued with the playwright, bullied his actors and suffered doubts about a performance could he produce the magnificent portrayals for which he was renowned. Since crises were a necessary precursor of his work, he usually took them in his stride, knowing that they would only increase his concentration and redouble his commitment to the play in hand. But the latest emergency could not be dismissed as a positive stage in the creative process. It cast a blight over the whole future of Westfield’s Men. When he returned home to Shoreditch that evening, he was in a pessimistic vein.

  ‘We are done for, Margery!’ he announced. ‘Dissolution is at our shoulder.’

  ‘Is Edmund still resolved?’

  ‘Yes, my love. He quits the company within a week.’

  ‘Can his contract not keep him tied to Westfield’s Men?’ she asked.

  ‘Our lawyer has waved that at him but to no avail. Edmund snapped his fingers and dared us to sue him. Even if we win the case,’ said Firethorn disconsolately, ‘all that we will get is money that Avice Radley will cheerfully pay. The court cannot restore our playwright. He is lost forever.’ />
  ‘Can nobody persuade him to stay?’

  ‘We have been debating that very point at the Queen’s Head this evening. Owen Elias offered to knock some sense into Edmund’s head but violence is not the remedy.’ Tossing his hat onto the table, he slumped in a chair. ‘Nor is Barnaby’s suggestion that we increase the fee that he earns with a new play. Money can no longer tempt Edmund. His beloved has wealth enough for both of them.’

  ‘I still say that Nicholas is your best interlocutor.’

  Firethorn groaned. ‘He is too busy helping Frank Quilter wield the sword of justice. Besides, my love, even Nick is powerless here. When he talked to Edmund earlier, his sage counsel went unheard. She is the cunning viper here!’ he said with sudden anger. ‘Avice Radley has bewitched Edmund.’

  ‘What sort of woman is she, Lawrence?’ asked Margery artlessly.

  ‘The worst kind, my love. The kind that thrive on power over their victims.’

  ‘Did you find her attractive?’

  ‘No, no,’ he said, curling a lip in disgust. ‘Mistress Radley is an ugly, misshapen, ill-favoured creature. She would never appeal to me, that I can swear.’

  ‘What means did you use when you called at her house?’

  ‘Means?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Margery sweetly. ‘Did you persuade, threaten or cajole her?’

  ‘I used simple reason and nothing more.’

  ‘Did you not trade on your charm?’

  ‘It never crossed my mind to do so. I was there on behalf of the company.’

  ‘Then you would surely resort to anything at your disposal.’

  ‘No,’ he said with righteous indignation. ‘You slander me. I used the arts of persuasion to convince her of our need to retain our playwright. I was a shrewd advocate but it was a futile visit.’

  ‘I wonder about the cause of that futility,’ she said. ‘When you called at her house, you had Edmund Hoode in your service for at least another month. Yet, when he accosted you later at the Queen’s Head, that month had shrunk to a week. Why?’ she pressed. ‘What made him reach such a cruel decision?’

  ‘Spite.’

  ‘That is not in Edmund’s character.’

  ‘Avice Radley is consumed with it.’

  ‘I doubt that a spiteful woman could capture his heart,’ she said. ‘I am inclined to believe that Edmund’s change of mind was prompted by something that happened when you chose to call on Mistress Radley behind his back.’

  ‘All that I did was to plead our case.’

  ‘That is not what the lady herself would say.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘According to her,’ said Margery, fixing him with her eye, ‘reason soon gave way to a more intimate form of persuasion. In my opinion, Mistress Avice Radley is not in the least degree ugly, misshapen and ill-favoured. She is a handsome woman who could attract any man.’

  Firethorn gulped. ‘You have seen the lady?’

  ‘I called on her myself to see if womanly argument could make her bend.’

  ‘Then it was wrong of you to do so,’ he protested, rising to his feet with an attempt at anger. ‘How many times have I told you, Margery? You must not meddle in the affairs of Westfield’s Men?’

  ‘Even if I am able to save them from a terrible loss?’

  His face ignited. ‘Is that what you did?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘Alas, no.’

  ‘Then you have only made the situation worse.’

  ‘It was your clumsy wooing that did that, Lawrence,’ she said with vehemence. ‘Did you really imagine that you could charm the lady into bed? She is in love with Edmund and he with her. That bond will not be broken because Lawrence Firethorn deigns to lift an eyebrow at her. Instead of seducing Avice Radley, you simply managed to turn a month of Edmund’s time into a bare week. I’m surprised that he granted you that in the circumstances.’

  ‘You misunderstand what happened, my love.’

  ‘I understand it only too well,’ she returned. ‘When you see a pretty face, you forget all about your wife and children and think yourself a carefree gallant. Mistress Radley’s is but the latest name that I could cite.’ She jabbed a finger at his chest. ‘You betrayed us all, Lawrence. And the worst of it is that you betrayed yourself as well.’

  ‘But I only did it to save the company,’ he said, conjuring up a look of injured innocence. ‘Show some faith in me, Margery. I did not go to the house to try her virtue. I was there to test the strength of her love for Edmund.’

  ‘It is the strength of your lust for her that worries me.’

  He reached out for her. ‘My love!’

  ‘Stand off, sir!’ she cried, beating him away.

  ‘Truly, I found the lady lacking all attraction.’

  ‘I have seen her, Lawrence. Do not lie to me.’

  ‘What else was I to do?’

  ‘Send Nicholas in your stead,’ she replied. ‘He would have had the sense to get Edmund’s permission to meet Mistress Radley then everything would have been open and friendly. Nicholas would never have descended to your crude harassment of her.’

  ‘I was led simply by my desire to save Westfield’s Men.’

  Margery was scornful. ‘You were led, as ever, by your pizzle.’

  Firethorn writhed in discomfort under her searching gaze. The fact that she had also visited Avice Radley took away all possibility of being able to manipulate the truth to his advantage. Only one avenue of reconciliation remained open to him.

  ‘Let us discuss this in the bedchamber, my love,’ he whispered.

  ‘Is that what you said to Mistress Radley?’ she retorted.

  Storming off to the kitchen, she slammed the door meaningfully behind her.

  ‘She never gave me the chance,’ he sighed wistfully.

  Sunday morning found the inhabitants of Bankside scurrying to the various parish churches south of the river. Nicholas Bracewell was among them, escorting Anne Hendrik and her two servants to matins while making sure that they were neither being watched nor followed. It was on their return to the house that Anne expressed her worries. She pointed to the dagger that lay on her table.

  ‘That might so easily have ended up in your back, Nick,’ she said.

  ‘I long ago learnt how to protect it.’

  ‘What if the man tries again?’

  ‘He knows the folly of doing so,’ said Nicholas, slipping the dagger into his belt. ‘Should he cross my path again, of course, I’ll have the pleasure of giving him back his weapon. I fancy that it might be between his ribs.’

  ‘I fear for you.’

  ‘Without cause, Anne. Remember what I told you. He’ll attack elsewhere now.’

  ‘Is Frank Quilter in danger, then?’

  ‘Not if he stays on guard. He is an able fellow, skilled in the use of dagger and sword upon a stage. He’ll be a worthy opponent for anyone who dares to try him. We are both prepared, Anne,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Still your fears.’

  ‘Where are you going now?’

  ‘Back to Smithfield. I want to see if a certain person recognises this,’ he said, picking up the hat he brought back from Turnmill Street. ‘You tell me that it is like the one you saw but I would value a second opinion.’

  ‘I only glimpsed the man,’ she explained. ‘Long enough to see that he wore a hat and cloak, but too briefly for me to be certain that it was this particular hat.’ She examined it again. ‘It does, however, look very familiar.’

  ‘Your experience as a milliner would make you note someone’s hat.’

  ‘Who else may have seen him wearing it?’

  ‘Hermat.’

  ‘A foreign name.’

  ‘Hermat is a foreign being. According to Frank Quilter, who has seen the sight, Hermat has no equal on earth. Frank thought him the weirdest creature who lived.’

  ‘Is he an animal, then?’

  ‘No, Anne,’ he said. ‘Hermat is an hermaphrodite, half-man, half-woman, but so cleverly contrived
that it is impossible to see where one leaves off and the other starts. Bartholomew Fair is filled with freaks but Hermat takes the crown.’ He lifted the hat. ‘And, I hope, remembers this less exalted headgear.’

  After a fond farewell, Nicholas went to the stable and saddled the horse. It made a great difference, not only speeding up his journey but allowing him a view from an elevated position. Even in thick crowds, he could see exactly where he was going. There was no performance at the Queen’s Head so he had a whole day in which to continue his investigations. Before meeting up with Quilter again, he wanted to visit the fair on his own. Smithfield was busier and noisier than ever. A sea of humanity rippled across the entire fair. Money was changing hands on every side and the pandemonium continued. It did not take Nicholas long to find Lightfoot. Back in the ring, the tumbler was showing off his skills between wrestling bouts. Coins aplenty were being dropped into Lightfoot’s hat. When he saw Nicholas, he hopped over the rope and pushed his way across to him.

  ‘Good day, sir!’ he welcomed.

  ‘You are doing brisk business, Lightfoot.’

  ‘It is Puppy who brings in the crowds. I merely entertain them while he catches his breath between challengers. Do you have any news, sir?’

  ‘I do,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘Then let me hear it.’

  Nicholas dismounted to tell him of the visit to Turnmill Street. When he described the attack that was made on him, he saw the tumbler’s face pucker with dismay before reddening with anger. Hands on hips, Lightfoot inflated his chest.

  ‘You should have let me go with you, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Had you been there, the villain would never have tried to kill me.’

  ‘That is my argument.’

  ‘But we would never have known how frightened they are, Lightfoot,’ said Nicholas. ‘We have learnt things that they hoped to keep secret so they needed to stop us. The simplest way of doing that, they thought, was to murder me. But I am not ready to meet my Maker yet. I dispatched their assassin without his hat or his dagger.’