Elizabeth shook her head. “I am sure I do not know.”
“Well, that is what we must endeavor to find out,” said Shakespeare. “I am finished with this witness. I would next like to call Master Leffingwell, the tailor.”
Elizabeth stepped down, and Master Leffingwell was brought out, dressed in his nightclothes. He looked very frightened and disheveled. As soon as he was sworn, Shakespeare tried to reassure him. ‘
“Do not be afraid,” he said. “All you need to do is tell the truth, and you should be home in bed within the hour. Now, please tell the court your name and occupation.”
“M-M-Master William Leffingwell,” he stammered. “I am a’t-tailor.”
“No need to be afraid,” Shakespeare told him once more. “No one shall harm you. All you need do is answer a few questions. ”What was your relationship with Thomas Locke?“
Leffingwell looked terrified, but he managed to compose himself enough to answer. “He… he worked for me. He was my apprentice.”
“And you had known him for the entire seven years of his apprenticeship, of course, is that not so?”
Leffingwell nodded. “Aye, I did.”
“You were generally satisfied with his work, were you not?”
“I was, indeed, aye.”
“So much so that when he completed his apprenticeship, you offered him a position as a journeyman tailor in your shop, is that not so?”
“Indeed, ‘twas so, indeed. He was an excellent tailor. I was pleased to have him in my shop.”
“And in all the time you knew him, did you know him to have any enemies who may have wished him dead?” asked Shakespeare.
“Nay, not Thomas!” Leffingwell replied emphatically, shaking his head. “He was a fine lad, a fine lad, indeed, well loved by everyone!”
“Would it be fair to say that you never knew him to have any enemies at all?”
“Nay, none at all. None at all. He was an excellent young man.
He got on well with everyone.“
“So then you were surprised when you learned that he was murdered?”
“Oh, I was astonished! ‘Twas a horrible thing, a horrible thing, indeed! I could not imagine who would have done such a ching!”
“You knew he was betrothed?”
“I knew that, aye. He often spoke of it.”
“And did you know the young woman to whom he was betrothed?”
Leffingwell shook his head. “Nay, I cannot say I did. He had mentioned her name a munber of times, and I… I think. she may have come to the shop once, but in truth, I cannot say I recall, other than the day she came with those two other women, seeking him. And that must have been the very day he…”
“The day he was killed,” said Shakespeare. Leffingwell looked down and nodded.
“You told the young ladies on that day that Thomas had not come in to work and was not at home,” said Shakespeare. “Just as you told us the very same thing. How did you know that he was not at home?”
“I had sent one of my apprentices over to his room to see if perhaps he had fallen ill, and the lad returned and said he was not at home.”
“But in fact, he was there,” Shakespeare said. “The boy you sent merely knocked upon the door, did he not, and when there was no answer, he returned to say that Thomas was not at home. But had he actually tried the door, as we did when we went there ourselves shortly thereafter, he would have found it open, and he would have found that Thomas was already dead. Thank you, Master Leffingwell. I am sorry to have disturbed your rest and troubled you. You may go home now.”
A a much relieved Leffingwell was escorted out of the chamber, Shakespeare went over to where Smythe sat and whispered in his ear. Smythe glanced up at him sharply, then nodded and left the room, accompanied by one of Moll’s men.
“You have not made much of an argument for the innocence of the accused,” said Locke. “Have you any other witnesses to call?”
“I have, if it please the court,” said Shakespeare.
“Get on with it, then.”
“I call Mistress Antonia Morrison,” Shakespeare said. Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide, and she spun around in her seat as Antonia was escorted in. Until that moment, she had not known that Antonia had been brought here, as well. Like Leffingwell, she looked frightened as they brought her in, but unlike him, she was fully dressed. When she saw Elizabeth, she looked a bit relieved, though still apprehensive.
“Please tell this court your name,” said Shakespeare.
“My name is Antonia Morrison,” she replied.
“Do you know where you are?” asked Shakespeare. “I do not mean exacty where, for I know that you were brought here blindfolded. I mean do you know what this place is?”
She nodded, gravely. “The meeting hall of the Thieves Guild.”
“And you have been told why you have been brought here?”
“To testify at the trial of Henry Mayhew for the murder of Thomas Locke,” she replied.
“So then you understand the import of all this, and that you must, above all, tell the truth?”
She nodded. “Aye, I do.”
Shakespeare looked up and saw that Smythe had returned, together with the man he had left with, as well as several others. He nodded.
“Very well, then. What is your relationship with Portia Mayhew?”
“She is my friend.”
“A close friend?”
“Well, she is more Elizabeth Darcie’s friend than mine. ‘Tis through Elizabeth that we had met.”
“Did you know her father?”
“Nay, I did not.”
“So then would it be correct co say that you have not known Portia Mayhew for very long?”
“Aye, ‘twould be correct.”
“And did you know Thomas Locke?”
“Nay, I did not. I knew of him, for Portia had spoken of him often, but we had never met. And now, I fear, we never will.”
“Indeed,” said Shakespeare, nodding sympathetically. “Where were you when you first learned that Portia’s father had withdrawn his consent for her marriage?”
“I was with Elizabeth Darcie at her home.”
“And Portia was there with you?”
“She arrived afterwards.”
“After you did?”
“Aye, that is so.”
“She was upset when she arrived?”
“Very much so,” said Antonia. “She was in tears and most distraught.”
“Because her father had withdrawn his consent for her to marry Thomas?”
Anconia nodded. “Aye, that is so.”
“And did she say why?”
Antonia nodded again. “Because Thomas’s mother was a Jewess.”
Mayhew shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Why did she come to Elizabeth Darcie’s house?”
“Because Elizabeth was her friend, and she was distressed and in great need of a friend.”
“Whose idea was it in the first place that Porcia should elope with Thomas?”
“‘Twas Elizabeth who had suggested it,” Antonia replied. “And what did you think of this idea?”
“Well… I thought ‘twas rather ill advised, to be honest.”
“Indeed? You did not find it… romantic?”
“I found it rather foolish, if you must know,” said Antonia.
“Of course, I did not say so at the time.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I did not wish to seem lacking in sympathy. Portia was very much upset, and I did not wish to make matters any worse for her.”
“I see,” said Shakespeare. “‘Twas most considerate of you. Why did you believe that the elopement would be ill advised?”
“Because if she and Thomas were to have run away together, they would afterwards have been penniless,” Anconia said. “How would they have lived? What would have become of her? Would she have been forced to find work as a laundress or a serving wench? What sort of life would that have been for the daughter of a gentleman?”.
“A life with the man she loved, perhaps,” said Shakespeare.
“Some may find contentment in such a life. Others may have greater needs. Your husband is a very wealthy man, I undersrand, is that not so?”
“Harry has been very successful in his life,” Antonia replied.
‘We are very comfortable.“
“He is also a good many years older than you, is that not so?”