Shakespeare sighed and shook his head. "Ah, Ben," he said, shaking his head. "Why is it that we men never learn? 'Tis not a better life that a good woman wants a man to give her; she only wants to share the life he has. A woman like Molly does not want your money. Faith, she only wants your heart."
"If you are so full of wisdom about women, Will, then where is the woman who shares your life and has your heart?" asked Dickens, irritably.
For a moment, Shakespeare looked stung, but he recovered quickly. "Alas, the one who had my heart was not, as it turned out, the one who shared my life, and shares it still, if only at a distance," he replied. "Had I not been such a fool… well, never mind, what's done is done. There is little to be served in dwelling in the past. 'Tis what lies ahead that matters."
The wooden sign that hung above the door of the Devil Tavern at a right angle to the street was painted with an image of St. Dunstan tweaking the Devil's nose, in homage to St. Dun-stan's Church, which stood nearby. They opened the heavy, wood-planked door and went inside. The interior was not unlike that of the Toad and Badger in general appearance, but the place had a very different sort of atmosphere.
There were rushes strewn upon the wood-planked floor, but they were not fresh, which lent the place a stale sort of smell that Courtney Stackpole never would have tolerated. The furnishings, like those at the Toad and Badger, were much the same—heavy, wood-planked trestle tables, benches, and stools — but they were rough and cracked and stained with spills, not kept oiled and clean, as Stackpole always insisted at his place. The patrons were mainly working-class locals, with perhaps a few merchants and a craftsman or two here and there. The chief difference, however, was that the mood within the place was not nearly as lively as at the Toad and Badger.
The smell of tobacco smoke was heavy in the air as patrons sat and smoked their clay churchwardens while they drank their beer and ale out of pewter tankards or hard leather "black jacks" sealed with pitch. Some played hazard with their dice cups, others played primero, betting noisily on every hand. A few people glanced up at them as they came in, looking them over, but otherwise, no one paid them any particular attention.
They sat down at an empty table and a moment later one of the serving wenches came by to take their order. After conferring with her as to what she recommended, they decided upon a double-strength ale known as "Devil Dog," apparently a house specialty. It was brought to them in a large jug and they poured it themselves into heavy pewter tankards, discovering that it had a rich, strong, and heady, spicy flavor. They smacked their lips and nodded their approval.
"An excellent ale, my dear," said Shakespeare, "aye, excellent, indeed." He nodded to Smythe and Dickens, prompting them.
" 'Tis just the thing for a thirsty man at the end of a long day," said Smythe, thinking that he would actually prefer one of his herbal infusions brewed from rainwater to this thick and heady brew, for although there was no denying it was tasty, strong ale always left him feeling bloated and gassy. He noticed once again that he had never drank ale or beer until he came to London, where the water was undrinkable, and he had lately noticed that his midsection had started getting thicker from this recent addition to his diet.
"So tell me, my lovely, what is your name?" asked Dickens, flashing her a dazzling smile. It nearly undid the poor girl, who was not lovely by any stretch of the imagination, and was cursed with bad skin and a harelip that gave her a thick and pronounced lisp.
"Kate, m'lud," she replied, blushing and looking down while carefully avoiding the sibilance of "good sir" in her reply.
"Well, Kate," Dickens went on, charmingly, " 'tis a fine, rich brew that you have recommended, and we may have ourselves another jug or two just to see you bring it."
She gave him an awkward curtsy and a cautious underlook to see if he was making fun of her. Smythe began to worry that he was overdoing it, for what was the likelihood that any young man as handsome and dashing as Ben Dickens had ever paid attention to so homely and scrawny a girl? Surely, he thought, she could never believe he was in earnest. But in addition to his good looks, Dickens had apparently been gifted with a faery glamour, for within moments, he had completely captivated her with compliments that struck Smythe as rather heavy-handed and transparently insincere. Before long, he had her sitting on his knee and giggling as he laughed and joked with her.
"So do you work here every night, Kate?" Shakespeare asked.
"Well, if she does, then I may have to come back more often," Dickens said, with a wink. It brought forth another giggle from the girl as Smythe winced inwardly. It was almost embarrassing to watch.
"Aye, m'lud, I work here each day an' every night."
"Well, then you must know old Budge, who comes to have his suppers here, along with Mary and Elaine," said Shakespeare.
"Oh, aye, m'lud, I know them. Very kind, they are, never make fun o' me like what others often do. The way I talk, y'know." Her hand went to her mouth self-consciously and she looked away from Ben, as if suddenly remembering her deformity for the first time since they began their conversation.
"What of it?" Dickens said. "Methinks you have a charming voice."
"Aw, now, go on…" she said, giving him a poke, but at the same time, she beamed at him with childlike pleasure.
"They must have been here that night then, when that terrible thing happened at their master's house," Shakespeare said. "You have heard about that?"
Her eyes grew very wide. "Oooh, aye! What an awful thing! Poor Cap'n Leonardo!"
"You knew him, then?" asked Smythe.
"Aye, m'lud, he came in now and again," said Kate. "Nice gentleman, he was. Never had but one drink, an' off to home. 'A touch o' grog,' he called it. Poor man, to be murdered like that! What a terrible thing!"
"They stayed late that night, did they?" Shakespeare asked. "I mean, his servants?"
"Aye, they did," replied Kate. "I remember because they drank so much and got all tipply." She giggled again. "That old Budge! Who'd have thought it, the way he carried on with them two women! A man his age! And them laughing and encouraging him! Aye, they had a right grand old time, they did. An' they kept right at it, til I said 'twas time for them to leave."
"You said 'twas time for them to leave?" asked Smythe. "Were they so drunk and rowdy, then?"
"Oh, 'twasn't like that at all," she replied. "Old Budge asked me to tell him when it got near nine o'the clock, for 'twas when the mistress come back home in her carriage and they had to be back by then. He promised me a farthing if I would remind him. I mean, they was all tipply, but not no trouble, mind. Not like them roaring boys what come by being all mean an' horrible."
"Roaring boys?" said Shakespeare.
"Aye, all loud and full o'themselves," she said. "Puttin' on airs like they was young lords instead o' 'prentices. I didn't like them. Made fun o' me, they did. Not nice at all, like you good gentlemen."
"How many of these boys were there, Kate?" asked Dickens, casually, though Smythe noticed that his eyes had narrowed slightly as he watched her reply.
"Four or five, methinks. Nay, 'twas five. I remember now. One o' them tripped me an' made me fall an' drop two jugs! He had a mean laugh, he did, an' a cruel way o'mockin' me lip, makin' a face like a cony…" She demonstrated, twitching her lip like a rabbit. "An' him with his pockmarked face and his own lip all droopy and twisted like. Nasty, evil bugger."
Smythe and Dickens exchanged glances. "Bruce McEnery," said Smythe.
"Aye! 'Twas his name, all right! One o' the others called 'im Bruce!" In her agitation as she lisped the name, she doused both Smythe and Shakespeare with a spray of spittle.
"What was his name again?" asked Dickens, innocently.
"Bruce! Bruce!" She repeated, even more wetly and emphatically, making Smythe and Shakespeare recoil from the shower.
"Methinks the roof is leaking," Shakespeare said, wryly, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
Smythe leaned forward, took hold of Ben's hand, fixed him with a
glare, and squeezed hard enough to make Dickens catch his breath. "We got the name, all right?" he said.
"Right," said Dickens, gritting his teeth against the pain. When Smythe released him, he took a deep breath and flexed his fingers experimentally, to see if any of them were broken.
"Ooh, you don't mean to tell me them horrible boys was friends o' yours!" said Kate, alarmed at possibly having said the wrong thing.
"Not by a long shot, Kate," Smythe replied. He removed his cap and touched the bandage on his head. "I have them to thank for this. I have a score to settle with that lot."
"Ooh, they did that?" Kate said, wide-eyed. "I knew they was no good!"
"And was one of them a handsome looking sort," asked Smythe, "tall, lean, with black hair and dark eyes, with a scar and a sort of smug, amused expression?"
"Aye, I remember him. I thought the others looked to him as if he was the leader," Kate said.
"Jack Darnley," Shakespeare said. "Stoats travel in pairs."
"And rats travel in packs," said Smythe, with a grimace of distaste. "It seems the Steady Boys were here that night."
"Let's have us another jug, my dear," said Dickens, bouncing her on his knee. "And hurry back, mind, so we can have more of your pleasant company!"
When she left to get another jug of ale, Dickens turned to Smythe and said, "Faith, Tuck, you have the strength of an ox! You damn near broke my hand!"
"You get her saying 'Bruce' again, and I shall," replied Smythe.
"Oh, I was just having a bit o' fun," said Dickens, with a grin.
"The same sort of fun those Steady Boys were having at her expense, no doubt," Smythe replied. "And if you ask me, 'tisn't very kind of you to lead her on so."
"Perhaps not," said Dickens, "but it did get us what we wanted, did it not?"
"Indeed," said Shakespeare. "And thanks to Ben's winsome ways, we now know not only that Budge and the two women never saw Corwin leave the house, but that they were gone for several hours, during which time a great deal could have happened."
"Aye," said Dickens, "and what I was thinking is that this tavern is a bit off the beaten track for the Steady Boys. Not their stalking ground at all. You shall find them on any given night down at the Broom and Garter, where the mood tends to be a bit more boistrous. This here is not their sort of place at all. Tis much too tame and quiet."
"So then what brought them here?" asked Smythe.
"I was thinking about that very thing," said Shakespeare. "Does it not seem interesting to you that they just happened to be here on the very night of Master Leonardo's murder?"
"I wonder how long they stayed?" asked Smythe, glancing at him and raising his eyebrows.
"That is, indeed, the question," Shakespeare replied. "And here comes young Kate, bringing us our jug and, with any luck, our answer."
"Ah, there we are!" Dickens exclaimed, as she set down the fresh jug of ale. "I am growing ever fonder of this Devil Dog, sweet Kate. Come, sit you down and have a drink with us!" He tapped his knee and she perched on it quite readily. He poured for all of them, then gave her the first sip from his mug.
"So tell us, Kate," said Shakespeare, "these boys that were so mean to you that night, do you happen to recall how long they stayed?"
"You mean the first time or the second?" she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Shakespeare frowned. "The first time or the second? I do not understand. Whatever do you mean?"
"Well now, the first time, they all come in together," she said, and Smythe noticed that except when she became excited, she had a way of avoiding the "th" and "s" sounds whenever possible, replacing them with "v's" and "z's" in order to minimize her lisp, so that the word 'first' came out 'furz' and 'together' came out 'togevver.' It was somehow endearing.
"The first time?" Shakespeare repeated. "You mean to say they left and then came back again, the very same night?"
"Aye. Well, all 'cept two o' them."
"You told us there were five of them in all," said Shakespeare. "Do you mean that three of them left the tavern and two stayed behind?"
"Aye, you got it," she said, nodding. "An' then a bit later, the other three come back and they all left together."
"Were Budge and the two women in here all during that time?" asked Smythe.
"Aye, they was," she replied, nodding as Dickens offered her another sip of ale. "I remember 'cause I kept bringing them more beer."
"So they drank small beer, then, and not ale?" Shakespeare said. Then he nodded to himself. " 'Twould make sense, of course. 'Tis a cheaper brew, and so they could drink more. And it sounds as if they drank rather a lot. So then while they were drinking and having themselves a fine old time, three of the Steady Boys left, while two remained behind."
"To act as lookouts, perhaps, and keep an eye on the servants?" asked Smythe.
Shakespeare nodded. "It could be. That way, if Budge and the women started back before the other three returned, then one of the two remaining would run to give his comrades warning, while the other lingered to delay them."
"The devil gnaw their bones!" Dickens exclaimed. "So they killed Leonardo!"
Kate gasped and her hand went to her mouth.
"We cannot yet say for certain," Shakespeare said, "but methinks something is rotten here."
The others frowned and sniffed at their clothing.
"I meant something smells fishy," Shakespeare said.
Smythe, Kate, and Dickens smelled their armpits.
"Oh, for God's sake! I meant it seems suspicious, too much of a coincidence!" exclaimed Shakespeare, in exasperation. "Odd's blood! I know that I am speaking English! Why is it so difficult to understand my meaning?"
"Not a word of this, Kate, you understand?" said Smythe. "Especially if you should see any of those boys again, although I rather doubt you will. Methinks they shall go out of their way to avoid this place for a good long while."
Her eyes were wide with fear as she nodded mutely and clung to Ben's arm for support, glancing around at all of them with alarm.
"Hola! You! Wench! Get yer skinny body over here!" called out one of the patrons at a table across the room.
Kate started to get up, but Dickens held her back. "Wait," he said.
"But, m'lud…"
"Wait, I said. You need not respond to such rudeness."
"Hola! Wench! You deaf? We need more ale, girl!"
She glanced at Dickens with consternation. "Stay," he said, calmly.
Shakespeare glanced over at the table where the shouting was coming from. "There are three of them," he said.
"And there are three of us," said Smythe.
"One of us with a bandage on his nearly broken head and another with but a dagger for his weapon," Shakespeare replied, dryly, "while all three of those gentlemen are wearing swords, in the event you have not noticed."
"You there!" one of the men called angrily to Dickens. "Stop mucking about with that skinny, harelipped wench and send her over here! She's here to work, not be your bloody doxy!"
"My friends," said Dickens, easing Kate gently off his knee, "allow me. I shall be but a moment."
"Right," said Smythe, with a sigh, as he started to get up, but Dickens stayed him with a hand upon his shoulder.
"Nay, Tuck, I beg you, keep your seat. This dance is mine."
With a scraping of stools, the three men got to their feet, reaching for their blades.
"Ben, do not be foolish," Smythe said. "There are three of them, for God's sake. And they have the look of men who know their business."
"Then that should make the odds just about even," Dickens replied, as he stepped forward and drew his sword.
"Why is it that this happens every time I go to some strange tavern?" Shakespeare asked, throwing up his hands. "And where are you going?" he asked Smythe as he started to get up.
"To help Ben, of course," Smythe said, putting his hand on his sword hilt.
"You were very nearly killed the other day," Shakespe
are replied. "Have you not had enough? He said he did not need your help!"
Smythe opened his mouth to reply, then abruptly shut it and raised his eyebrows in surprise as Dickens engaged the first man with a quick circular parry to his lunge that sent his opponent's sword flying across the room. As patrons ducked their heads beneath their tables to avoid the flying blade, Dickens smashed the basket hilt of his rapier into his suddenly disarmed opponent's face, then pivoted to strike down the second's man blade, following that up with a brutal kick to the man's groin that made Smythe wince.
"Apparently," said Smythe, "he does not require any help."
The third man glanced at his two fallen comrades, swallowed hard, then turned and ran straight out the door.
"Well," said Dickens, turning around and shrugging. "That was rather disappointing."
Kate's eyes were shining with hero worship as she gazed at him, awestruck.
"If you gentlemen are finished with your drinks, then I would very much appreciate it if you left," the tavernkeeper told them.
Dickens turned toward him, still holding his sword at his side.
"However, I shall not insist," the tavernkeeper added, holding up his hands, palms out.
"Never mind," said Dickens. "We are leaving. Kate, my dear, when the Queen's Men stage their next production at the Burbage Theatre, you shall be my guest. Just tell them that Ben Dickens said so." He bowed to her with a flourish and then sheathed his blade. "My friends, shall we take our leave?"
"By all means," said Shakespeare, paying the awestruck girl for their ale. "Where to now?"
"Back to the Toad and Badger, I believe," said Smythe. "We must put our heads together and devise a plan to trap some rats."
Chapter 11
WHEN THEY RETURNED TO THE Toad and Badger, everyone was waiting for them. They had missed rehearsal, an offense which usually resulted in a fine among any company of players, for if one actor missed rehearsal, it placed a burden on the others that was directly proportional to the importance of that actor's role—or roles, since it was not uncommon for a player to have more than one. But for three of the company to have missed rehearsal was unheard of. As a result, the other members of the company were quite concerned, especially in light of the attack on Smythe. And they were not alone. Liam Bailey was also at the tavern, awaiting news. When they came in, they were at once surrounded and peppered with anxious questions.
Simon Hawke [Shakespeare and Smythe 03] Much Ado About Murder(v2) Page 18
