‘I will study how best to do that.’
‘Be quick about it. Ours is not the only company which will try to take captives. Havelock’s Men will do the same.’
‘They have already struck.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Or so it is rumoured,’ said Quine. ‘One Lucius Kindell, a young playwright whom Edmund Hoode has taken under his wing — a sure sign of promise in itself — has been wooed and won over by Rupert Kitely.’
‘Then we have no time to waste,’ said Randolph irritably. ‘Get to Barnaby Gill before Havelock’s Men start to pour honey into his ear. Offer whatever you have to, Henry. Greedy men will lap up any lies.’
‘Master Gill is greedier than most.’
They shared a laugh, then drained their cups of wine.
Randolph became serious. ‘Will this damnable playhouse of theirs ever be built, do you think?’
‘Yes, Giles. They are resolved and already have a name.’
‘What is it?’
‘The Angel theatre.’
‘The Angel!’ said the other contemptuously. ‘This angel could displace Banbury’s Men from our place in heaven. We must act swiftly. Who is the man who secured their loan?’
‘Sylvester Pryde.’
‘Can we corrupt him?’
‘I doubt that, Giles.’
‘But he is the key to their good fortune.’ He stroked his beard with the back of his hand. ‘Tell me about him, Henry. Tell me all about this Sylvester Pryde.’
Sybil Marwood did not loosen her grip on her daughter until they reached their destination in Clerkenwell. Hustled along through an endless succession of streets, lanes and alleyways, Rose was in great discomfort. When her mother finally released the girl from her grasp, Rose rubbed her sore wrist. Before she had time even to look up at the dilapidated little house, she was helped inside it by a firm maternal palm.
As soon as they opened the door, the smell invaded their nostrils. It was a strong, rich, but not unpleasant aroma and Rose thought at first that someone was cooking a meal in the kitchen. They were in a dark, featureless room with only a few stools and a table by way of furniture. A ragged piece of cloth hung over the doorframe opposite and it was pulled back to reveal the gaunt face of an old woman with straggly grey hair trailing down from her mop cap. Rose recoiled slightly but Sybil seemed to know the crone.
‘We are here at the appointed time,’ she said.
‘I am ready for you,’ said the old woman, pushing the cloth aside to step into the room and scrutinise Rose. ‘So this is your daughter, is it? A pretty girl without question and not like most of those who come to me for help. They have the mark of wickedness upon them but Rose does not.’
‘Yet wicked she has been,’ grunted Sybil.
‘I beg leave to doubt that,’ decided the old woman, giving Rose a gap-toothed grin of reassurance. ‘A man is to blame here. She was led astray. Rose is only the victim of another’s wickedness.’ She indicated a stool. ‘Sit there, girl.’
She bustled out of the room and Rose hesitated.
‘Do as she bids you,’ ordered her mother.
‘Who is she?’
‘Mary Hogg. A wise woman of Clerkenwell.’
‘Why have you brought me here?’
‘She will medicine you. Now sit down.’
Sybil used both hands to ease her onto the stool. Rose was in a mild panic, sensing that she was in danger without quite knowing what that danger might be. When Mary Hogg reappeared, she was carrying a cup that was filled with a steaming liquid. Setting it down on the table, she turned to Sybil and snapped her fingers. Money was passed between them and the old woman counted it before slipping it into the pocket of her filthy apron.
Mary Hogg turned her full attention upon Rose.
‘Do not be alarmed, Rose,’ she soothed. ‘I will help you as I have helped so many others in the past. I am a wise woman and know the art of saving a girl’s reputation.’
‘Reputation?’ murmured Rose.
‘This child comes before its time. You are unwed.’
‘And no husband in sight,’ added Sybil.
‘Do you know what would happen if this baby were born?’ continued the old woman. ‘It would be condemned to a life of misery and you with it. Bastard offspring are spurned by one and all, Rose. You would be the mother of an outcast. It would be a cruelty to bring such a child into the world. A cruelty and a sin. For you have been sinful.’
‘I have prayed for forgiveness,’ said Rose.
‘Prayer is part of my remedy,’ explained the other. ‘And the old religion furnishes us with the best supplication. Do not be afraid to make use of what would be forbidden in a church. God will bless you for it. When I have given you my cure, you must say five Paternosters, five Aves and a Creed for nine consecutive nights, taking herbs in holy water at the same time. Only at the end of nine days will we know if the cure has been effective.’
‘What cure?’ asked the trembling girl.
‘Release from this shame!’ said Sybil.
Rose stood up. ‘You would kill my child!’
‘It is an act of Christian kindness,’ said Mary Hogg. ‘Besides, I cannot kill what is not really alive. I simply prevent it from taking on any shape and form. Do not fret,’ she whispered, easing her back down onto the stool. ‘It will not hurt you, Rose, and my cure has the approval of God or He would not hear the prayers.’
‘I want to go home, mother!’ exclaimed Rose.
‘Not until this is done,’ said Sybil, restraining the girl as she tried to rise again. ‘Not until you take the remedy.’
‘Keep her away from me! She frightens me!’
‘Not as much as that child in your belly frightens me and your father. You have shamed us, Rose, and we are paying to rid ourselves of that shame. Now keep silent!’
Rose struggled to get up but she was held firm. Mary Hogg took something from the pocket of her apron and stepped in close to the girl. Her voice had a gentle persuasiveness.
‘Do not hold her so,’ she said to Sybil. ‘Rose must not be compelled. She knows what must be done. It is in the interests of everyone but, most of all, it advantages Rose herself. When she is wed, she will bear as many children as she wishes. She is clearly fruitful. This first apple will soon be forgotten when it has been plucked down.’ Motioning Sybil back, she bent over Rose and held up the object in her hand. ‘Open your mouth a little so that I may place this on your tongue.’
‘What is it?’
‘The bill of a white duck. It has potent charms.’
‘I do not want it in my mouth.’
‘It will only be for a minute or two.’
‘It offends me.’
‘You will find its taste both sweet and comforting.’
Mary Hogg began to intone a strange prayer, waving the duck bill to and fro in front of Rose’s face until the girl was slowly lulled into a state of relative calm. The old woman used delicate fingertips to part the patient’s lips then carefully inserted the duck’s bill. When it lay on Rose’s tongue, the prayers were replaced by a series of charms which were chanted in a high, lilting voice.
The girl’s mouth stayed open when the duck bill was removed and her eyes stared straight ahead. She seemed to have gone off into some sort of reverie. Mary Hogg dipped a finger in the cup to test the heat of its contents. Nodding her approval, she lifted the cup to Rose’s lips and tipped it gently upwards. Before she was able to resist, the girl had swallowed a mouthful of the hot, black, curdled liquid. Jumping to her feet, she spluttered a protest and held both hands over her mouth as she started to retch.
‘Must she drink it all?’ asked Sybil.
‘No,’ said Mary Hogg complacently. ‘My work is done. Make her say the prayers each morning, as I instructed, on her knees. In nine days’ time, her problems will be at an end.’ She put the duck’s bill back into her pocket. ‘And so will yours.’