Cruel laughter broke out as Dart once again bore the brunt of Firethorn’s abuse. When another break in rehearsal was taken, it was Barnaby Gill who came to Dart’s aid.
‘It’s unjust to single George out for condemnation,’ he said.
‘Yes, Barnaby,’ returned Firethorn. ‘You certainly deserve your share.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re completely out of sorts this afternoon.’
‘It’s you who should take most of the blame, Lawrence. You hardly got through a speech without a stumble. Lord Malady’s malady is forgetfulness.’
‘And yours is spite.’
‘I’m entitled to point out your mistakes.’
‘Not when you make far more yourself, Barnaby.’
Gill stood on his dignity. ‘What mistake did I make?’
‘Entering the profession of acting.’
‘At least I did enter it,’ said the other haughtily. ‘You stumbled into it like a drunken man falling through the door of a leaping house. My mistake was in joining Westfield’s Men while it had someone like you in it.’
Firethorn inflated his chest. ‘I’m not in the company, I am the company.’
Edmund Hoode was poised to intervene before hot words provoked one or other of them to stalk out for effect but his placatory talents were not needed. The door of the Great Hall opened and Anthony Dyment came scurrying over the oaken floor.
‘I need to speak to Nicholas Bracewell,’ he said.
Firethorn rolled his eyes. ‘So do we all, sir.’
‘Is he here?’
‘Alas, no, as you would have seen from the carnage upon this stage.’
Introductions were perfunctory. The vicar did not linger over the niceties.
‘Where might I find him?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Is he still searching for your missing apprentice?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ said Firethorn, looking around to make sure that nobody else heard the visitor. ‘Do not voice it abroad, sir. When Nick confided our little problem to you, he expected you to be discreet not to preach a sermon on the subject.’
‘I’m sorry, Master Firethorn. My lips are sealed on that matter. But if you know that he called at the church, you’ll also know that he fell foul of Reginald Orr.’
‘Who does not?’
‘An apt question, sir.’
‘Has the bellicose Christian been making threats against Nick?’
‘Worse than that, I fear.’
‘Oh?’
‘He’s gone strangely quiet.’
‘Then perhaps God has taken pity on us all and whisked him up to heaven before his time. Is this all your news?’ teased Firethorn. ‘A noisy Puritan has been silenced?’
‘Two noisy Puritans, Master Firethorn.’
‘Two?’
‘The other one’s name is Isaac Upchard.’
‘The very same rogue who tried to serve us charred horse meat for breakfast. Nick caught him setting alight the stables then captured him later in the day. You can forget about Upchard,’ Firethorn assured him. ‘He’s languishing in a cell and wishing he’d never heard of Westfield’s Men.’
‘But that’s the whole point, sir,’ said the vicar. ‘He isn’t.’
‘You mean that he’s glad we happened to cross his path?’
‘Far from it, Master Firethorn.’
‘Your words confuse me, sir. Could you try them in English, please?’
‘Isaac Upchard is languishing in a cell no longer,’ declared Dyment. ‘That’s why I had to warn Nicholas Bracewell. The prisoner has escaped and he was last heard vowing to get his revenge on your book holder.’
‘The devil take him!’
‘The constable thinks that Master Orr may have devised the escape but there’s no proof of that. When the prisoner slipped out of his cell, the constable was fast asleep.’
Firethorn was scathing. ‘Are such imbeciles ever truly awake?’
‘He’s begun a search for the fugitive.’
‘What comfort is that supposed to bring?’
‘None, sir. I share your dismay.’
‘Rural constables are as much use as a hole in the road.’
‘Officers of the law are difficult to find.’
‘This one should have been left where he is. I’m surprised the oaf didn’t give the prisoner the key to his cell before he went off to sleep. Are there no clues? Is there no indication of where Isaac Upchard went?’
‘He’s disappeared into thin air.’
‘What of Reginald Orr?’
‘He, too, has vanished from sight. It’s deeply troubling.’
‘Yes,’ said Firethorn with a worried frown. ‘Thank you for coming to warn us. Nick should certainly be told but I’ve no idea where he is. Luckily, he has Owen Elias at his side. They make a formidable pair when armed.’
‘My fear is that Upchard may somehow waylay them.’
‘He’ll be no match for either of them.’
‘Don’t be fooled by Puritan garb,’ said the vicar.
‘It always makes me laugh.’
‘Before he was converted to his peculiar faith, Isaac Upchard was a soldier who fought in Holland. He’s been trained to fight, Master Firethorn. That’s why I was so eager to raise the alarm. Nicholas Bracewell must be alerted,’ he stressed. ‘Upchard is a dangerous enemy, skilled in the use of sword, dagger and musket.’
Firethorn started. Taking the vicar by the shoulders, he pulled him close.
‘Did you mention the word “musket”?’ he said.
‘What sort of a woman is Mother Pigbone?’ asked Owen Elias. ‘Motherly or pig-like?’
‘A little of both,’ said Nicholas.
‘I’ll play on her emotions and charm the truth out of her.’
‘Not even your skills could charm this lady, Owen. Mother Pigbone is no tavern wench with a bright smile. She’s more seasoned in the ways of the world.’
‘Why, so am I, Nick.’
‘It may not be a meeting of minds.’
Elias grinned lecherously. ‘Who cares about minds? She’s a woman, isn’t she? That’s all I need to know.’
‘Not quite,’ said Nicholas. ‘Beware of Beelzebub.’
‘Is that the black boar you told me about?’
‘He’s very fond of Welsh beef. If you value your legs, keep clear of him.’
After leaving Holly Lodge, they headed in the direction of Stapleford. Nicholas was anxious to speak to Mother Pigbone again, to probe the nature of her relationship with Doctor Winche and to find out for certain if she had sold poison to someone earlier in the week. It was not a reunion he looked forward to with any pleasure. Elias offered to spare him the ordeal altogether.
‘Let me go alone, Nick,’ he volunteered.
‘Why?’
‘Where a gentleman like you failed, a roisterer like me might succeed.’
‘But I didn’t fail, Owen. I touched her on some raw spots, that’s all. Before I could elicit the truth from her, she turned Beelzebub loose on me.’
‘He can’t be any more frightening than Lawrence Firethorn on the rampage.’
Nicholas smiled. ‘There are similarities, I grant you.’
They caught the first whiff of Mother Pigbone’s lair when they were almost fifty yards away and its pungency steadily intensified. Loud grunting noises showed that Beelzebub was aware of their approach. When they reached the house, Mother Pigbone ambled out to size them up, combining surprise and disgust when she saw Nicholas.
‘You dare to come back, sir?’ she sneered.
‘Nick enjoyed his own visit so much,’ said Elias, dismounting and doffing his hat to her with a flourish. ‘And I can see why, Mother Pigbone. I’m delighted to meet you. My name is Owen Elias, actor with Westfield’s Men.’
‘Then go back to them.’
‘Will you not invite us in?’
‘No, sir,’ she said. ‘Leave while you can or I’ll set Beelzebub on you.’
Elias raised the musket. ‘Please do,’ he challenged. ‘He won’t be the first boar I’ve shot dead. Go on, Mother Pigbone. Let him out and you’ll be able to dine off pork for a month.’
She wilted. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, backing away.
‘Some honest answers for a change.’
‘I won’t speak to you, sir.’
‘Then talk to Nicholas instead,’ said Elias, pretending to aim the musket at her. ‘And be sure to tell the truth or my finger may slip on the trigger.’