Beatrice Capaldi also knew how to leave her mark.
Andrew Carrick was astonished to receive a visitor so late in the evening and duly delighted. Nicholas Bracewell was always welcome company. They sat on stools in the cell in the Beauchamp Tower and conversed by the light of a tallow candle. Carrick was keen to hear the latest report from Clerkenwell and to learn of his daughter’s reaction to a performance by Westfield’s Men. The lawyer’s gratitude boiled over once again and his visitor took advantage of it.
‘I come in search of help, sir,’ said Nicholas.
‘What may I do for you?’
‘Draw up a contract.’
‘Of what nature?’
‘Articles of agreement between a theatre company and a new sharer. You have the means to do this, Master Carrick?’
‘Why, yes,’ said the other. ‘Here are pen and parchment before me, as you see, and I have all the authority that the office of attorney can bestow. But I have no knowledge of such a form of contract.’
‘Could I dictate the terms to you?’
‘They would have to be very exact.’
‘I have memorised them with care.’
Andrew Carrick pulled the candle closer to illumine the parchment that he unrolled before him. Dipping his quill into the inkwell, he was poised for instruction. Nicholas spoke with slow precision.
‘Articles of Agreement, made, concluded and agreed upon and which are to be kept and performed by Owen Elias of London Gent. unto and with Lawrence Firethorn Esquire in manner and form following, that is to say … Imprimis. The said Owen Elias doth covenant, praise and grant to and with the said Lawrence Firethorn, his executors, administrators and assigns in manner and form following, that is to say that he, the said Owen Elias, will play with Westfield’s Men for and during the time and space of three years from the date hereof, for and at the rate of one whole share according to the custom of players …’
The lawyer wrote with a flowing hand. He was fascinated by the contractual obligations laid upon both parties and had several questions to ask. Nicholas was supremely well informed. Before coming to the Tower, he had taken the trouble to examine Edmund Hoode’s contract with the company and he had also been present during many of the frequent legal wrangles between Firethorn and the other sharers. Carrick was very complimentary.
‘You should have been a lawyer yourself,’ he said.
‘In some sort, I am.’
‘Here is your contract. I am glad to be of help.’
‘Your assistance may prove invaluable.’
Nicholas took the scroll and secreted it inside his jerkin. He was about to take his leave when his host did him another important favour.
‘Here is something that may be of interest to you.’
‘Speak on.’
‘Prison restricts movements but it sharpens ears,’ said Carrick. ‘I have learnt to listen.’
‘And what have you heard?’
‘Enough to make a firm judgement.’
‘About whom?’
‘My friend, Harry Fellowes.’
‘The Clerk of Ordnance?’
‘That is but one of many aspects of his existence. He is also a priest, a soldier, a scholar and more besides. What concerns you most is that Harry is a moneylender.’
‘You have hinted as much before.’
‘I now have more proof of his dealings,’ said Carrick. ‘There never was such enthusiastic usury. Harry lends much and often to men of high rank. He has been doing so for many years and has a long list of noble debtors. One of those names is of especial interest to you, Master Bracewell.’
‘Who is that?’
‘The Earl of Chichester.’
‘A close friend of Banbury’s Men.’
‘Chichester and Banbury intrigue to appoint the next monarch. Such machinations cost money. Politics is mostly buying and bribing.’ He shrugged his disgust. ‘But you will see what this means.’
‘Harry Fellowes is aiding our enemies. If they should succeed, we will suffer. Westfield’s Men will be cut down by a loan transacted within the Tower of London.’
Carrick grinned. ‘Ask me a question.’
‘Is the Clerk of Ordnance so well paid that he can afford to give subsidies to all and sundry?’
‘No,’ said the other, delighted to pass on the fruit of his meditations. ‘Crown officials are poorly paid. They get their reward from the status of royal service and from the incidental benefits of their employment.’
‘Benefits?’
‘I will come straight to it. Harry Fellowes is a kind and Christian man who has helped me to stave off boredom and despair in my imprisonment. However …’
‘Go on, sir.’
‘He is also a cunning malefactor who has made a private fortune from the public purse.’ Carrick held up his palms. ‘Do not ask me how he has done it because I can only guess at the details, but this I can say with absolute certainty. Harry has used his position to falsify and defraud.’
Nicholas ran ahead of him. ‘This loan to the Earl of Chichester must therefore give him great satisfaction. His lordship is Master of Ordnance.’
‘Harry steals money from beneath his superior’s nose then lends it back to him at a high rate of interest.’
Nicholas appreciated the irony of the situation but he also began to see the full ramifications. Banbury’s Men had seized centre-stage with The Spanish Jew, an acerbic play which attacked a hated minority who were traditionally associated with usury. It was a work which served the cause of Roger Godolphin, Earl of Chichester, who was in alliance with Banbury himself. Their campaign was financed by a loan which had been raised — not from foreigner or Jew — but from the Crown official who laboured at his accounts in the Tower of London. Shorn of his affability and shown in his true light, Harry Fellowes was every bit as villainous as the character who was portrayed by Giles Randolph.
All indications had Queen Elizabeth fading fast and unable or unwilling to name a successor. The conflict on that issue would be quickly resolved and the party led by the Earl of Chichester might well emerge victorious. If the educated guesswork of a lawyer was sound then Nicholas was in a position to strike a vital blow for Lord Westfield’s faction. The prospect made him tremble with excitement.
Andrew Carrick spelt out the implications.
‘Start here,’ he said. ‘Expose Harry Fellowes and you bring down the Earl of Chichester with him. There will be no Queen Arabella then. You understand me?’
‘Very well indeed.’
‘Westfield’s Men will be safe.’
Chapter Eleven
Giles Randolph had the overweening vanity that afflicted so many in his profession but it was tempered by an acceptance of one grim truth. An actor needed a patron. Inspired as he believed himself to be and gifted as he certainly was, he never forgot to pay due respect to the Earl of Banbury and to acquaint him with each shift of company policy. Randolph was thus a familiar caller at the sumptuous residence near Charing Cross and he could always count on a goblet or two of Canary wine with his host as they flattered each other with token compliments. The earl glowed with optimism.
‘All things proceed as I would wish,’ he said.
‘We strive to serve your lordship.’
‘You must wipe Lawrence Firethorn from the stage and kill off Westfield’s Men for good.’ Common sense intervened. ‘But you must feed wisely off the remnants. Edmund Hoode is a playwright to be wooed into my company and I would find a place for Barnaby Gill as well.’
‘Neither is entirely to my taste,’ said Randolph, ‘and I feel sure that Hoode would never countenance working for Banbury’s Men. Gill is another matter but I have severe reservations.’
‘Overcome them, Giles. He is a supreme clown.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘When his company falls, rush in to pick him up.’
‘I will offer him a helping hand …’
The bibulous earl sipped more wine and confided his hopes for the future. His politic alliance with the Earl of Chichester would bear royal fruit that would profit both himself and his troupe. He held out the possibility that the new Queen might elevate his company into her own and the purring Randolph stroked the fur of his own self-importance.