The Devil's Apprentice (21 page)

‘Not intentionally, I promise you.’

‘How is the man, Sir Michael?’ asked Nicholas solicitously.

‘That’s the second thing I have to tell you,’ replied the old man. ‘The news is desperate, I fear. Robert Partridge – for that’s his name – collapsed and died in our midst. That’s what robbed you of your due reward, Master Firethorn. I can only apologise. Don’t blame Robert Partridge for the interruption. It was beyond his control.’

Firethorn was saddened. ‘Then I take back what I said, Sir Michael.’

‘What was the cause of death?’ said Nicholas.

‘That’s the curious thing,’ said Sir Michael. ‘At first sight, it looked as if the poor fellow had succumbed to a heart attack and Doctor Winche gave that as his opinion when he examined the body just now. But I have my doubts.’

‘Why?’

‘Robert Partridge was not young but neither was he old. Indeed, he was very robust for his age and had no symptoms of a weak heart. He was a successful lawyer who was seen out riding at a gallop this very morning. Yet he drops down dead in the middle of the Great Hall.’

‘If only he could have waited another two minutes!’ said Firethorn.

Nicholas turned prompter. ‘You say that you have doubts, Sir Michael.’

‘Yes,’ confessed their host. ‘Far be it from me to contradict Doctor Winche but my researches as a scientist have given me certain insights. I can read dead bodies as other men read books. When I looked at Robert Partridge,
I don’t believe that I was staring at a man who died of heart failure. His face was contorted, his skin a strange colour and his hands bunched tightly. It was a sudden death and an agonising one. Then there was the strange smell on his breath. That’s what really convinced me.’

‘Of what?’ said Nicholas.

‘I think that he may have been poisoned.’

Firethorn angered again. ‘Do you mean that he was poisoned deliberately so that he’d wreck the crowning moment of the whole play?’

Sir Michael shrugged. ‘I could be wrong, of course.’

‘Supposing that you’re not,’ said Nicholas.

‘Then we have to face a hideous possibility,’ admitted Sir Michael, running a hand across his brow. ‘Robert Partridge was murdered.’

Firethorn fell silent as his mind grappled with the tidings. Making his excuses, Sir Michael withdrew to comfort the grieving widow and to attend to the large gathering of friends who had been badly ruffled by the incident. Firethorn lowered himself to a bench as he brooded. Nicholas sat beside him. The actor suddenly clicked his fingers.

‘Did you hear what he said about the victim, Nick?’

‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas. ‘The man’s name was Robert Partridge.’

‘His profession is the crucial thing.’

‘He was a lawyer.’

‘Exactly!’ said Firethorn. ‘Just like Shortshrift in
The Witch of Colchester
. And what happens to Shortshrift?’ he asked, eyes enlarging. ‘He’s poisoned! We’re back to Egidius Pye again. No wonder Lord Malady was spared
this time. It was somebody else’s turn to suffer.’

Nicholas was unconvinced. ‘It’s far too early to make that assumption.’

‘I told you that the play was cursed.’

‘Then why didn’t Master Partridge die in the middle of it and not at the end of
The Insatiate Duke
? It’s just one more unfortunate coincidence.’

‘Fever, collapse, loss of voice, murder. All four happen in that order in Pye’s damnable play. Yes,’ he went on, getting to his feet in alarm, ‘and the next thing is that Lord Malady goes blind. How can I act if I can’t see?’

‘The blindness is temporary,’ said Nicholas, rising to soothe him, ‘and it occurs in the pages of a play and not in reality. Stop confusing the two.’

‘But they’re joined indissolubly together, Nick.’ He reached a decision. ‘Cancel the play. We’ll have no witch of Colchester on these boards.’

‘We must. Sir Michael has insisted.’

‘All that he insists upon is a new piece. We set Pye’s work aside, put a tried and tested old comedy in its place, brush off its cobwebs and swear it’s never been performed before. Sir Michael won’t know the difference.’

‘Lady Eleanor will,’ warned Nicholas. ‘She’s watched us many times at the Queen’s Head. So has Master Stratton. We’ll not fool them. Besides,
The Witch of Colchester
has been advertised. Cancel it now and there’ll be repercussions.’

‘They can’t be any worse than the repercussions we’ll have if we retain it. Take pity on me, Nick,’ he implored. ‘Aren’t fever, collapse and loss of speech enough for me to endure? Will you wish blindness upon me as well?’

‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

‘Keep the play and we keep the curse that goes with it. A plague on Egidius Pye!’ he roared. ‘He’s written a comedy that just killed this poor fellow, Robert Partridge.’

‘But he didn’t,’ insisted Nicholas, ‘don’t you see? You’re confusing fact and invention again. Master Partridge is no character in the play. If a lawyer was to die by poison in the way it occurs in
The Witch of Colchester
, then it should have been James Ingram for it’s he who takes the role of Shortshrift. Yet James was in excellent health when he left us a while ago. How do you explain that?’

Firethorn was baffled. He sat down again and tried to work it out. Nicholas watched him with mild exasperation, fearing that the actor might make a decision that would make them all suffer. It was some time before either man became aware that they were not alone. Framed in the doorway, too shy to speak, was Richard Honeydew. He waited until Nicholas finally caught sight of him.

‘Dick,’ he said, turning to the boy, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘I’ve something to tell you,’ replied Honeydew nervously.

‘Well, spit it out, lad,’ ordered Firethorn. ‘We’ve lots to do before we turn in for the night. It includes giving that friend of yours, Davy Stratton, a sound beating.’

‘But you can’t do that, Master Firethorn!’

‘Try to stop me and you’ll feel the weight of my hand as well.’

‘What’s the trouble, Dick?’ said Nicholas gently. ‘You’re shaking all over.’

‘I did wrong,’ admitted Honeydew. ‘I know that you
sent Davy to the cottage and forbade any of us to speak to him but I felt sorry for him. While we were all eating in the kitchen, he was alone over there. So I …’ The apprentice bit his lip before continuing. ‘So I took some food across there for Davy.’

‘It sounds to me as if you deserve a thrashing alongside him,’ said Firethorn.

‘That’s what I came to tell you, Master Firethorn. Beat me, if you wish, but you won’t be able to lay a finger on Davy.’

‘Why not?’ said Nicholas.

Honeydew was crestfallen. ‘He’s run away.’

The search for Davy Stratton was swift, thorough and entirely fruitless. Led by Nicholas Bracewell, three of them combed the stables, the cottages and the immediate environs. The boy had vanished, taking his meagre belongings with him and leaving behind no clues as to where he might have gone. Opinions about his disappearance varied. Lawrence Firethorn was at first delighted, Nicholas was very disturbed and Owen Elias occupied a middle position between them, relieved that Davy was not there to cause them any more trouble yet concerned for his safety. It was late afternoon as the trio stood outside the stables to review the situation.

‘No question about it,’ said Elias. ‘Davy has gone.’

‘Good riddance!’ said Firethorn.

‘The lad is our responsibility,’ Nicholas reminded them. ‘We can’t have him wandering about the countryside in weather like this.’

‘That’s not what he’s doing, Nick,’ said Elias.

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t but it’s what instinct tells me. Consider this possibility. Davy didn’t run away from us. Supposing that he ran
to
somebody else?’

Nicholas was dubious. ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t his father, Owen. Master Stratton is still here. All the boy had to do was to stay at Silvermere if he wanted his father.’

‘Jerome Stratton is the last person he wants.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Firethorn. ‘I wouldn’t want that slimy merchant for a distant cousin, let alone a parent. On the other hand, I suppose that he ought to be told that his son’s absconded yet again.’

‘No,’ said Nicholas, thinking hard. ‘Keep him ignorant for the time being. The boy can be retrieved without any recourse to Master Stratton.’

‘But he knew where to find him last time,’ observed Elias. ‘They caught the lad on foot in the woods because they were looking in the right place.’

‘Where had Davy been in the meantime? That’s the critical question, Owen, and I’m inclined to agree with you. The boy might have had a destination nearby,’ concluded Nicholas. ‘Who did he go to see that day and why?’

‘I’ve no idea, Nick.’

‘Nor I,’ said Firethorn, ‘and I don’t care. He’s flown the coop and that’s that. Why should we bother to retrieve someone who’s been such a damnable nuisance?’

‘Because we have to,’ said Nicholas reasonably. ‘Davy Stratton is ours and we can’t disown him, whatever antics he may get up to. Since he misbehaved so badly today, it
might suit us to have him out of the way but he’s bound to Westfield’s Men by contract and must return sooner or later. This is no blind dash for freedom,’ he went on. ‘Davy has a refuge in the vicinity. Someone is looking after him.’

Firethorn was bitter. ‘Good luck to them!’

‘One thing is certain,’ said Nicholas, glancing at the stables. ‘The lad’s on foot. He didn’t take one of the horses. That means the place he’s heading for can’t be too far away. He’s had a good start on us but it might be worth giving chase. This light will hold out for another hour or so. I’m going after him,’ he decided on impulse. ‘Will you bear me company, Owen?’

‘Gladly,’ said the Welshman.

‘But you don’t know which way he went,’ Firethorn pointed out.

‘Towards the village, at a guess,’ said Nicholas, gazing in the direction of Stapleford. ‘That’s where the nearest habitation is. Perhaps he has friends there. He certainly doesn’t have any at Holly Lodge, his old home.’

‘Who on earth would want to take in a mischievous wretch like Davy?’

‘We were all capable of mischief at that age, Lawrence,’ said Owen with a grin. ‘You may hate the lad at the moment but you liked him at first. So did we all. Remember that and join in the hunt for him.’

‘No. I’m more likely to attack Davy than coax him back.’

‘Stay here, then.’

‘Meanwhile,’ suggested Nicholas, ‘don’t let this upset the rest of the company. They’ve taken enough blows as it
is. Find some simple explanation for Davy’s absence.’

‘Yes,’ said Elias. ‘Nick is right. Show no anxiety or it will spread like wildfire. Dick Honeydew knows the truth of it but will keep it to himself. The others can be told that Davy is visiting relations in the area.’

‘What are they called?’ asked Firethorn. ‘Lucifer and Belial?’

Elias laughed but Nicholas had already gone into the stables to saddle one of the horses. The other two men followed him and the Welshman began to tack up his own mount. Looking around, Firethorn heaved a sigh of relief.

‘I suppose we should be grateful he didn’t try to burn this place down,’ he said.

‘The boy is waggish,’ argued Nicholas, ‘and not destructive. He’d do nothing like that to harm us. We’ve still to find the man who did try to set fire to the stables last night.’ He rubbed his head gingerly. ‘He has a friend I’d like to meet again as well.’

‘I’ll be there to watch your back next time, Nick,’ said Elias.

‘Thank you, Owen.’

‘What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?’ asked Firethorn.

‘Carry on as if nothing has happened,’ advised Nicholas.

The actor was scornful. ‘Oh, that will be very easy. Nothing
has
happened,’ he said with heavy sarcasm. ‘Our performance was ruined, a member of the audience was poisoned and one of apprentices has taken to his heels. It’s the kind of happy, normal, uneventful day that we always have.’

‘You’ve forgotten something, Lawrence,’ said Elias.

‘Have I?’

‘You’ve gone through another whole day without an illness.’

‘Blindness is still to come,’ moaned the other. ‘I’ve that to look forward to.’

‘While you still have eyes to see,’ mocked the Welshman.

He and Nicholas finished saddling their horses and led them outside. Both men were armed. After a few parting words with Firethorn, they mounted up and set off. Nicholas took them in the direction of the village, glad that the weather was milder and that the frozen track had started to thaw at last. Since dusk would not be long in coming, they rode side by side at a brisk canter, eyes peeled for any glimpse of the fugitive. Davy Stratton was nowhere to be seen. Stapleford was fairly close but there was no guarantee that the boy had gone there. They might well be heading the wrong way altogether. Seeing the bleak landscape around them, Elias began to have doubts.

‘It’s like searching for a needle in a cartload of hay,’ he said gloomily.

‘Davy has to be tracked down.’

‘Where do we start, Nick?’

‘At the first house we come to.’

‘We can’t knock on every door in the village.’

‘Yes, we can,’ said Nicholas. ‘You never know what we might find.’

Isaac Upchard was still in pain. His wounded wrist was smarting and he felt a sharp twinge whenever he put any
weight on his right ankle. A black eye, a bruised chin and a broken nose were further souvenirs of his nocturnal visit to Silvermere. Feeling very sorry for himself, he was perched on a chair in Reginald Orr’s house, grimacing wildly. His friend was unsympathetic.

‘It was your own fault,’ he said coldly. ‘You made too much noise.’

‘I could hardly see in the dark, Reginald.’

‘All that you had to do was to set light to some straw.’

‘That fellow was on me before I could start the blaze.’

‘Yes,’ said Orr. ‘If I hadn’t been there to help you out, he’d have overpowered you for certain. You failed, Isaac. Miserably.’

‘Not for want of trying.’

‘We had the perfect opportunity to put this theatre company to flight. Burn down those stables and we’d have scattered their horses halfway across the county. Westfield’s Men wouldn’t have dared to stay at Silvermere a moment longer.’

‘According to you,’ recalled Upchard with another hideous grimace, ‘they’d never even get there.’

‘I thought we’d turned them back for sure.’

‘That’s not so easily done, Reginald. They’re too determined. The one who attacked me was as strong as an ox. If the others are like him, nothing will stop them.’

‘Oh, yes, it will,’ said Orr quietly.

‘What do you mean?’

His companion was brusque. ‘Never you mind. The important thing now is to cover our tracks. You can’t stay here any longer, Isaac. It’s far too dangerous.’

‘But I must,’ said Upchard, indicating his face. ‘I can’t be seen abroad in this state. And how do I explain this wound on my wrist?’

‘You won’t have to explain it if you go to ground for a while. Sir Michael has set a search in motion. I’ve already had a visit from the constable,’ said Orr with disdain, ‘but, luckily, that oaf could not detect a crime if it happened right under his big nose. I quickly disposed of him. But others may come in his wake, Isaac, and they may not be as easily turned away as a brainless constable. Whatever happens, you must not be found under my roof.’

Upchard was hurt. ‘Would you turn me out?’

‘Only for your own good.’

‘For
your
good as well, Reginald.’

‘I’m not thinking of myself here,’ said the other. ‘The simple fact is that I’m bound to come under suspicion. I spoke out boldly against this vile theatre troupe and told the vicar in so many words that I’d fight to keep them at bay. They’re certain to question me again,’ he predicted, ‘but they’ve no evidence to tie me to that escapade last night at Silvermere. With you, Isaac, it’s a different matter.’

‘Is it?’

‘Your attacker
knows
that he wounded you, man. You bear his marks upon you. If they catch you here, they’ll have the evidence they need to arrest us both.’

‘But I’d swear that you had nothing to do with it.’

‘Your word might not be enough to save me.’ Orr stood over him. ‘Do you want me to be imprisoned when we’re just starting to win converts to our sect? My presence here is vital, Isaac. If I leave, the others will soon fall away.
You understand that. I’m the only one who can keep them together.’

‘I know.’

‘Then do as I say. Leave after dark and hide until you recover.’

‘Where?’

‘I’ve friends near Maldon,’ said Orr, moving to sit at the table. ‘I’ll write them a letter to explain. They’ll take good care of you.’ He put a scrap of parchment in front of him and reached for his pen. ‘Tell them no more than you have to, Isaac. All they need to know is that you’re running from persecution.’

‘It’s more than that,’ complained Upchard, pulling a face. ‘We ambushed the company and tried to set fire to some stables. They’re serious crimes.’

‘Necessary evils to drive out a darker malignancy.’

‘That’s not how the court will look at it.’

‘Only if you’re brought to trial,’ said Orr petulantly, ‘and there’s no chance of that if you do as I tell you. Now, let me compose this letter.’

Upchard struggled to his feet. ‘Must I ride all the way to Maldon?’

‘As soon as it’s dark.’

‘Let me spend another night here, Reginald.’

‘No! It’s out of the question.’

He was about to explain why when there was a rapping noise at the door. Upchard twitched guiltily. After putting a finger to his lips to advise silence, Orr nodded towards the kitchen. His visitor limped off into the adjoining room and shut the door behind him. Another rap was heard. Orr
rose to his feet and crossed to open the door. He looked into the bruised face of Nicholas Bracewell and saw the bandage around his head. Owen Elias was standing beside his friend.

‘What do you want?’ asked Orr gruffly.

‘We’re looking for a missing boy,’ said Nicholas.

‘He’s not here. I live alone.’ He tried to close the door in their faces but Elias put out a hand to stop it. ‘I’ve no business with you, sirs. Away with you.’

‘Not so fast,’ said Elias, noting his Puritan attire. ‘Would you happen, by any chance, to be Master Reginald Orr?’

‘What if I am?’ came the defiant reply.

‘I’ve a feeling we met before on the road.’

‘Not to my knowledge, sir.’

Nicholas took over. ‘My name is Nicholas Bracewell and this is Owen Elias,’ he said. ‘We’re members of a theatre company visiting Silvermere.’ Orr’s face darkened. ‘I understand that you object to our being there, Master Orr.’

‘Very strongly.’

‘So what have you done to stop us?’ challenged Elias.

‘Nothing outside the law.’

‘You weren’t involved in an ambush a few days ago?’

‘No, sir!’

‘Yet you were heard swearing to keep us out of Essex.’

‘I’ll not bandy words with you,’ said Orr contemptuously. ‘In my view, actors are nothing but rats who gnaw away at everything that’s decent and wholesome.’

Elias grinned provocatively. ‘He likes us, Nick.’

‘You and your kind should be wiped from the face of the earth.’

‘That’s a harsh judgement, Master Orr,’ said Nicholas calmly, ‘and it’s not one shared by Sir Michael Greenleaf. He and Lady Eleanor are good Christians yet they see no harm in letting us into their beautiful home. Would you wipe Sir Michael and his wife from the face of the earth as well?’

‘Good day to you,’ snapped the Puritan but he was again prevented from shutting the door by Elias’s strong hand. ‘Let go at once, man.’

‘Not until you tell us where you were last night,’ warned Elias.

‘I’m not answerable to you.’

‘You’re answerable to the law of the land,’ said Nicholas, ‘and the constable will be asking the same question that my friend just put to you.’

‘He’s already done so,’ sneered Orr, ‘and I sent him packing. I was here in my house last night and did not stir from it. So, Master Elias,’ he added, glaring at the Welshman, ‘may I be allowed to close my own front door?’

Nicholas nodded his assent and Elias stepped back. The door was firmly shut.

Vexed in the extreme, Lawrence Firethorn tried to assimilate all the facts in order to make sense of them. Since their arrival in Essex, his company had been ambushed, his voice had deserted him at an embarrassing moment on stage, the stables adjacent to their sleeping quarters had been a target for arson, his new apprentice had deliberately tried to spoil the afternoon performance
and a member of the audience had died in time to rob them of their curtain call. Set against those disasters, the flight of Davy Stratton might be seen as a bonus rather than an additional crisis. When he applied calm thought to the problems, however, Firethorn saw that he might have been leaping to conclusions. The death of an anonymous spectator had not been foreshadowed in Egidius Pye’s play even though the victim was a lawyer. What worried him was Sir Michael’s suggestion that the man might have been poisoned. Had he been murdered in order to disrupt
The Insatiate Duke?
Did the company have an enemy inside Silvermere?