‘Oh, yes, I can. He probably had a hand in the Spanish Armada as well.’
Nicholas laughed and reined in his horse. When they knocked at the door, they were invited into the hall. Jerome Stratton was highly displeased to see them. He already had one visitor at the house and could spare little time for any others. When he came out of the parlour, he left the door faintly ajar.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, strutting over to them. ‘I hope you haven’t come here to tell me that Davy has fled from you again.’
‘No, Master Stratton,’ said Nicholas.
‘Good.’
‘If he did run away, we’d not look for him here.’
‘He’s your responsibility now. Davy is off my hands, thank heaven. So,’ he said, feet astride, ‘why are you bothering me again?’
‘It’s about a musket that you borrowed from Sir Michael Greenleaf.’
Stratton gaped. ‘The two of you came all this way to reclaim a musket? What an extraordinary errand to perform! If Sir Michael is so eager to get it back from me, why not send one of his servants?’
‘Because it’s rather a special weapon, sir,’ said Elias.
‘Special?’
‘It was used to fire at Nicholas in the forest.’
‘That may or may not be true,’ explained Nicholas. ‘Someone shot at me earlier today. The musket ball missed me but I was able to retrieve it. Sir Michael identified it as having come from his own moulds.’
‘So?’ said Stratton. ‘You’re surely not alleging that I fired that shot?’
‘Did you, sir?’
‘Of course not.’
‘You borrowed the musket to shoot rabbits, I understand.’
‘Did you mistake Nick for one?’ asked Elias sarcastically.
‘No, I did not,’ retorted Stratton, flaring up, ‘and I resent the suggestion. You’ve no right to come here hurling wild accusations at me. It’s slanderous.’
‘Could I see the weapon, please?’ said Nicholas quietly.
‘Why?’
‘Because I might be able to tell if it’s been fired recently.’
‘You’d be wasting your time.’
‘Let me be the judge of that.’
‘This is a matter between Sir Michael and me.’
‘I may be unwittingly involved.’
‘You’re not, I promise you.’
‘Show me the weapon and I’ll know for certain.’
‘If you insist,’ said Stratton, realising that it was the only way to get rid of him. He summoned a manservant and snapped an order that sent him scurrying off. ‘The musket hasn’t been fired for weeks because it’s completely jammed. It’s far too dangerous to use. You can take it back to Sir Michael with my compliments.’
‘Do you have any other firearms in the house, sir?’ said Nicholas.
‘Would I need to borrow one if I did?’
‘What about the supply of musket balls? Are they intact?’
Stratton exploded. ‘I’ve better things to do than to spend my time counting a bag of musket balls. If someone shot at you, it wasn’t me though I’m beginning to have some sympathy with the marksman.’
‘Don’t you dare to insult Nick,’ warned Elias, ‘or you’ll answer to me.’
‘Are you threatening me in my own house?’
‘No, Master Stratton,’ said Nicholas in a more conciliatory tone. ‘And we didn’t come here to accuse you, sir, merely to establish certain facts.’
‘Well, here’s one that you can establish,’ said the merchant as his servant returned to hand him the musket. ‘See for yourself. The weapon is useless.’
Taking the musket from him, Nicholas needed only a moment to see that it was damaged. He considered the possibility that Stratton had deliberately put it out of action after firing at him but dismissed it instantly. The man might be angry with him but he had no real motive to kill him. Since his son was now a member of Westfield’s Men, it was in Stratton’s interests to safeguard the company rather than to murder one of its members. Nicholas gave the musket to Elias. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the door of the parlour inch open a little.
‘Where exactly did this attack take place?’ said Stratton.
‘In the forest,’ replied Nicholas. ‘I was returning from Oakwood House.’
‘Oakwood? What took you there?’
‘Private business. Though your name did come into the conversation.’
Stratton was sour. ‘I’m sure that it did. Clement Enderby wastes no opportunity to run me down. You’ll get no endorsements for me at Oakwood House, sir, and none at all at Holly Lodge for Enderby.’
‘Yet it was not always so, I hear,’ probed Nicholas.
‘That’s our affair.’
‘According to Master Enderby, you and he were friends at one time.’
‘I thought you came to Essex to stage some plays,’ said Stratton, ‘not to listen to the local tittle-tattle. Be about your business, the both of you.’
‘We’ve not finished here yet,’ said Elias. ‘The local tittle-tattle has it that you and Robert Partridge were not exactly brothers-in-arms either. Is that true?’
‘Your question is offensive.’
‘Then give me an offensive answer,’ taunted Elias.
‘What Owen was intending to say,’ interrupted Nicholas, silencing his friend with a glance, ‘was that there’s been a new development. It appears that Master Partridge may not, after all, have been the victim of a heart attack.’
Stratton shrugged. ‘But that was Doctor Winche’s verdict.’
‘We have reason to believe otherwise, sir. Poison was used.’
‘Poison!’
‘It’s conceivable that he may have been murdered.’
‘But that’s a ludicrous notion. Who would possibility want to murder him?’
‘Someone who fell out with him,’ said Elias levelly.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Stratton, surprise turning to anger. ‘You’re going to accuse me of that as well, are you? What did I do? Put a supply of poison in the end of the musket and fire it down Robert Partridge’s throat?’
‘Nobody is accusing you of anything, Master Stratton,’ said Nicholas gently.
‘Then be so good as to leave my house.’
‘At once, sir. We apologise for this intrusion.’
‘Let it be the last you ever make on my property.’
Before Elias could deliver a tart rejoinder, Nicholas hustled him out. When they mounted their horses, the Welshman was still holding the musket. He held it up.
‘It’s a pity it’s out of action, Nick, or I’d have put a ball between his eyes.’
‘Jerome Stratton was not my assassin,’ said Nicholas.
‘I’d willingly be his.’
‘He’ll still repay watching, Owen. Did you hear the way that he talked about Davy? When he first brought the lad to London, he played the doting father but not any more. He’s obviously glad to get rid of the boy.’
‘I’d like to know why.’
‘So would I,’ said Nicholas, ‘and there’s another question that intrigues me.’
‘What was that?’
‘Who was listening to us from the parlour?’
It was all that Lawrence Firethorn could do to keep the company together during the rehearsal that afternoon. Deprived of his book holder, shorn of the actor who played the key role of Sir Roderick Lawless and deserted by his latest apprentice, he was finding it hard to concentrate. Egidius Pye’s presence, an unlikely boon at first, became an intense irritation to them all. It was not long before tetchiness crept in. George Dart was a convenient whipping boy.
‘George!’ bellowed Firethorn.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘You’re getting worse.’
‘Am I?’
‘Dreadfully so. I begin to fear for your sanity.’
‘I’m doing my best, Master Firethorn,’ said Dart, deputising as prompter.
‘Well, it’s nowhere near good enough. What is Master Pye to think when he sees his wonderful play ripped to shreds by the galloping incompetence of its prompter? When you say the lines,’ continued Firethorn, exposing him to the ridicule of the company, ‘we can’t hear them. When we hear them, we can’t understand them. And when we finally do understand them, we realise that they’re from entirely the wrong scene in the play.’
‘I went astray, sir.’
‘You were born astray, George.’