I pulled myself up short. I was making far too many assumptions and most of them, as usual, without proof. I had no reason to think that Patience Marvell was unhappy in her marriage, except that Sir George was a bad-tempered man, generally disliked. It was true that the little I had seen of them together had implied no great affection on either side, but that didn’t mean the lady wished to be rid of her husband. On the other hand, she had wished to be rid of somebody and had been prepared to pay for their removal, arguing with a cold and calculating nature, lacking the more feminine virtues such as tenderness and compassion. But this begged the question: who had murdered Alderman Trefusis? And why? I found it hard to believe that the crime had no connection to subsequent events. And yet, there again, I could be entirely wrong …
‘Father!’ I became aware that Adam was tugging at my sleeve, his face anxiously upturned to mine. ‘You’re not clapping or shouting. The mumming’s over. Didn’t you enjoy it?’
I realized with a start that the people all around me were waving their greasy hats in the air or stamping their feet or both, and that the mummers were lined up on the stage, taking their bows.
‘You didn’t even laugh at the Doctor,’ my son added reproachfully. ‘It was Master Chorley and he was ever so funny. Is your belly feeling queer again?’
‘Yes, yes, that’s it,’ I agreed, becoming aware that someone was tapping me on the shoulder.
‘Master Chapman,’ said Tabitha Warrener, still in her guise as the Turkish Knight, ‘will you and your son condescend to pay us a visit and drink a beaker of Christmas ale with us? We’d all take it kindly if you would.’
I hesitated a moment before accepting the invitation, but then decided Adela would not be expecting us home for a while, and it might seem churlish to refuse.
‘Thank you,’ I smiled. ‘But if you will forgive me, I’ll forgo the ale. I drank too much ‘lamb’s wool’ last night and have been paying for it ever since.’
The old woman looked disappointed, but then laughed. ‘A common enough problem this time of year.’ She smiled at Adam. ‘And did you enjoy the play, young master?’
He nodded, round-eyed and suddenly tongue-tied.
We followed Tabitha into the inner ward and across to the building against the orchard wall, where the rest of the mummers were changing out of their costumes and folding them away into the property chests. I thought Dorcas seemed a little better than she had done two days earlier, but she still looked rather pale and tended to cling to her husband for comfort.
Ned Chorley handed me a beaker of ale which I refused, once again making my excuses. Like Tabitha, he looked disappointed, but accepted my refusal with resignation, merely remarking that illness was a hazard of the season and putting the beaker back on the table.
‘Arthur can drink it when he comes in.’
Just at that moment, the door of the outbuilding opened and a head came round the corner; a head wearing a bird mask with a big hooked beak. I heard Adam draw in his breath and felt him jump.
Ned and Tabitha spoke almost together.
‘You’ve found it, Arthur!’
‘Where was it?’
Arthur Monkton removed the mask and placed it carefully on the table.
‘When I went out to drive the “stage” into the inner ward, it was just sitting there as if it had never gone missing.’
Ned chuckled. ‘Someone from the castle borrowed it, I reckon, to go wassailing last night. Someone without a mask of his own and without the money to buy or hire one.’ He picked the thing up and turned it around in his hands. ‘I’m glad whoever it was had the grace to return it, though. It’s one of our best masks, Master Chapman, and when Toby here came to wear it last night, it was missing. We thought someone had stolen it. Never expected to see it again. But here it is, safe and sound. There’s honest people in the world, after all.’
‘I’d hardly call taking something without permission honest,’ I objected. ‘As a matter of fact, Adam’s been describing someone wearing a mask just like this, wassailing in our house last night.’
‘Did he see who it was?’ Tabitha wanted to know.
‘I’m afraid not. Whoever it was didn’t remove it.’ Adam would have spoken but I managed to catch his eye and gave my head a little shake. I hoped none of the others noticed. My suspicions of poison I preferred to keep to myself.
‘Well, all’s well that ends well,’ said Ned Chorley comfortably. He poured Arthur Monkton a fresh beaker of ale and I noticed how deftly he managed with his left hand. No doubt he had had years of practise, for the stumps of the two missing fingers on his right looked old and shrivelled, as though they had been lost a long time before. All the same, it was noticeable that he was not naturally left-handed: I had observed on Sunday that he often started to do things with his right hand before recollecting his disability.
After a while longer, I said that Adam and I must be going as I had promised Sergeant Manifold I would help in the continuing search for Sir George Marvell while daylight lasted, and that it would soon be dusk.
‘No news of the poor gentleman yet, then?’ asked Tabitha, pouring herself more ale.
‘No.’ I took hold of my son’s hand. ‘And after today I understand that they’re giving up the search. The general belief is that he must have fallen in either the Frome or the Avon and drowned. Although why he left his home during the hours of darkness without telling any of his family where he was going and why is still a mystery.’
The five of them nodded solemnly, then crowded round to wish us goodbye and thank me again for our hospitality on Sunday.
‘Will you be coming to see us perform again before we leave?’ Tabitha wanted to know, bending down to give Adam a smacking kiss on one of his rosy cheeks.
‘How long are you staying?’ I asked.
‘Until Twelfth Night.’ Ned Chorley patted Adam’s head. ‘We’ll do Saint George and the Dragon once more for you before we go.’
‘You’ll be glad to get into winter quarters,’ I suggested as Adam and I moved towards the door.
Tabitha grunted her assent. ‘Especially with Dorcas getting near her time. Let us know, Master Chapman, if anything is heard of the knight.’
Promising faithfully to do so, we took our leave. I walked Adam home before setting out once more, grasping my cudgel firmly in one hand. Heavy-bellied clouds were gathering overhead, pregnant with rain or even, maybe, snow. I had no idea where to find Richard, but that didn’t worry me. I had my own goal in mind and, ten minutes later, had crossed the bridge into Redcliffe, making directly for the home of the Marvell family.
Somewhat to my surprise, I was admitted by the steward without hesitation and conducted to a handsome room on the first floor with two fine embrasured windows that looked out on to the river. All the family seemed to be gathered there, Patience Marvell seated in a carved armchair next to a roaring fire which flamed and sparked up the chimney without, so far as I could tell, giving out much warmth. Cyprian’s wife, Joanna, was on the opposite side of the hearth in just such another chair, while Cyprian himself stood with his back to the blaze, warming his buttocks in time-honoured fashion. The young men occupied the two window seats, both looking sulky and bored and trying to ignore one another’s presence.
‘I don’t see why we should be expected to help look for Father,’ Bartholomew, the slightly younger one, was saying as I entered. His tone was aggrieved. ‘He doesn’t care two fucks what happens to us.’
Lady Marvell let out a scandalized cry. ‘I’ve told you about using such disgraceful language, Barty! You wouldn’t dare say such things if your father were here.’
‘But he isn’t here,’ her graceless son pointed out. ‘And maybe,’ he added, his face brightening, ‘he’ll never be here again.’
Cyprian moved at that, striding across the room with his ponderous tread to smack his half-brother around the ears. ‘You disrespectful little cur!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s a great pity you were ever born.’