The Devil's Apprentice (19 page)

‘I have to take another burial service then.’

‘In that case,’ decided Sir Michael, ‘you’ll have to see
The Happy Malcontent
. It’s another boisterous comedy, I hear, and it will be certain to brighten up your day. It’s settled, Anthony. I’ll expect you here to sit beside me and watch the piece.’

‘When will it be performed, Sir Michael?’

‘On Sunday.’

Dyment’s legs almost melted beneath him.

Meals were served to the company in the main kitchen at Silvermere. The actors were encouraged to eat heartily and drink as much ale as they wished. Most of them rolled off to bed that night in a contented frame of mind. The rehearsal had been successful, the new play was taking shape and Lord Malady had survived intact. Pleased to have gone through the whole day without mishap, Lawrence Firethorn was nevertheless unhappy. As he sat with Nicholas Bracewell and Edmund Hoode over the vestiges of his meal, he had a different source of complaint.

‘We should have left Davy Stratton in Shoreditch,’ he said rancorously.

‘Margery wouldn’t have thanked you for that,’ said Hoode. ‘The lad caused enough trouble for ten apprentices when he was there.’

‘But look what he’s done since he’s been here, Edmund.’

‘Boyish high spirits,’ suggested Nicholas.

‘That’s not what I’d call them,’ growled Firethorn. ‘That jest with the bramble was only one of many. Did you know that he put damp straw in Martin’s bed last night
and a handful of salt in Stephen’s drink this morning? Dick Honeydew is the only one who’s escaped his villainy. The boy needs to be soundly beaten.’

‘I shook him until his teeth rattled and warned him that we’d send him back to London if we have the slightest trouble out of him again. I don’t know what got into Davy today,’ confessed Nicholas. ‘That piece of bramble must have been agonising.’

‘We should have stripped the lad naked and thrown
him
into a bramble bush.’

‘That would’ve been too cruel, Lawrence,’ said Hoode. ‘Nick did the right thing. He chastised Davy, made him apologise to Martin then watched him like a hawk for the rest of the day. Sending him off to bed early was a just punishment.’

‘Not in my eyes. Do you know what I think?’

‘What?’

‘I may have been wrong about
The Witch of Colchester
. Perhaps it’s not the play that’s bringing all this misery down on me.’

‘I’m certain that it isn’t,’ said Hoode.

‘Coincidence can’t be ignored, Edmund.’

‘But that’s all it is – pure coincidence.’

‘No, it isn’t. When did our problems start?’

‘When you sent Master Pye on his way,’ said Nicholas.

‘No, Nick,’ argued Firethorn. ‘They started the moment we took Davy Stratton into the company. He caused problems in my house, ran away from you in the forest, tried to escape again when you spent the night at Silvermere and is now up to his old tricks again. It’s not
the play I should fear, it’s that little rascal.’

‘Make allowances for his age.’

‘Yes,’ said Hoode. ‘Davy is still finding his feet.’

Firethorn was bitter. ‘I’ll cut them from beneath him if we have any more of these antics. Davy Stratton is the reason that I’ve been struck down three times in a row. He’s been sent to torment me,’ he went on, pursuing the logic of his argument. ‘There’s malevolence in that boy, I sense it. I thought that he might be an asset to the company but he’s already indentured elsewhere.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Nicholas.

‘He’s the Devil’s apprentice.’

Firethorn emptied his cup of ale and rose to his feet. Nicholas did not try to contradict him. Though he took a less critical view of Davy Stratton, he was troubled by the boy’s behaviour. Even after he had been expressly told not to tease Martin Yeo, the newcomer had played a nasty trick on him. Nicholas would brook no disobedience. He had given Davy such a severe reprimand that the boy had burst into tears, fearing that he would lose the friendship of the one person in Westfield’s Men he respected above all others. A partial reconciliation had been achieved between them but Nicholas still felt hurt and let down. He wondered why someone who had been so well-behaved a guest at Anne Hendrik’s house was now so obstreperous.

The three men left the main house and strolled across to the cottages in the darkness, guided by the candles that burnt in the windows ahead of them. After an exchange of farewells, Firethorn and Hoode went into the cottage
they shared with Elias and Ingram. In the adjacent lodging, Nicholas had elected to look after two of the apprentices, Davy Stratton and Richard Honeydew, as well as George Dart. Rowland Carr and Walter Fenby, both sharers, were also under the same roof. The first thing that Nicholas did was to take a candle to make sure that the boys were safely asleep. Opening the door of their room, he was pleased to see both Davy and Honeydew slumbering quietly in the same bed. At their feet, talking to himself in his sleep, was the exhausted Dart. A sense of peace hung over the room. Looking down at his young companions, Nicholas gave a paternal smile.

Weary himself, he did not undress completely to get into the empty bed under the window. He feared reprisals. Martin Yeo would seek revenge on his own behalf as well as on that of his friend, John Tallis, and the best time to strike back at Davy was at night when the apprentice was off guard. Even the presence of Nicholas in the chamber would not stop someone with enough determination and Yeo certainly had that. When he went to bed, therefore, Nicholas remained half-dressed, leaving the shutters slightly ajar so that he could catch any sounds of entry below. If anyone tried to sneak into the room, he would be ready for them. An hour passed before he went off to sleep, another before anything disturbed him. The creaking of a door then brought him awake. It came from the direction of the stables. When he heard the frightened neighing of a horse, he was out of his bed at once.

Grasping his sword, Nicholas crept downstairs in the
dark, moving as silently as he could so that he did not disturb anyone. When he let himself out of the cottage, he heard further noises from the stables. The open door suggested an intruder. At first, he thought it might be Yeo, gathering up an armful of filthy straw to scatter over Davy by way of retaliation but several horses were now disturbed enough to neigh their protest. Nicholas decided that the intruder was there for a more serious purpose than merely getting revenge on a wayward apprentice. If he was trying to steal a horse, he had to be apprehended. Sword held in front of him, he slipped in through the open door and peered into the gloom. The spark gave the man away. As he set light to a pile of fresh straw, he revealed his hiding place in a corner.

‘Stop!’ yelled Nicholas, darting across at him.

‘Who are you?’ grunted a voice.

The intruder was surprised but not easily overpowered. Before Nicholas could reach him, he took an armful of straw and hurled it into his face, using the momentary confusion to buffet his way to the door. Fire was taking hold now and frenzy was starting to spread among the horses. Nicholas grabbed a pail of water to douse most of the flames then stamped out the rest with his feet. As soon as that was done, he sprinted through the door in pursuit of the footsteps he could hear on the drive. Anger lent wings to his heels. His quarry moved fast but he had left his horse some distance from the stables and was soon panting madly. Pausing to rest against a tree, he stayed there until he realised that someone was after him. The man set off again, blundering through the undergrowth until he found the clearing where
he had tethered his mount. Before the rider could even get his foot in the stirrup, however, Nicholas came charging at him.

‘Stay there!’ he ordered, holding his sword point against the man’s neck.

But his adversary acted swiftly again, using a dagger to parry the sword then kicking powerfully with his right foot. Nicholas suffered a glancing blow on the thigh and staggered back. When the man aimed a second kick at him, he caught the foot and twisted it hard until he let out a yell of pain. As the intruder fell to the ground, Nicholas struck at the hand holding the dagger and opened up a gash in his wrist. An even louder yell came as the man released his weapon. Nicholas dropped the sword and flung himself down on the figure who now was writhing on the ground in the dark. Sitting astride him, he began to pummel away with both fists but the fight was almost immediately curtailed. A second rider came out of the shadows and used a cudgel to belabor Nicholas. Dazed by blows to the head, the book holder lost all his strength and was pushed away roughly by the man beneath him. The second rider dismounted to help his confederate into the saddle of his own mount. By the time that Nicholas was able to stagger to his feet, both men were galloping off into the darkness.

The commotion brought several people running from the cottages and the main house. Nicholas soon found himself surrounded by lighted candles and curious faces. Firethorn pushed his way through his friend.

‘Are you hurt, Nick?’ he said, supporting him by the arm.

‘A little,’ conceded the other.

‘What happened?’

‘Somebody tried to frighten us away again.’

The nocturnal assault accomplished part of its objective. The fire might have been put out in the stables but the flames of doubt continued to crackle in the minds of the company. On the following morning, the rehearsal of
The Insatiate Duke
was slow and half-hearted. Reminded that they had enemies, the actors kept looking over their shoulders and wondering where the next attack would come from. The sight of their book holder was usually a reassurance but it was now visible proof of the desperation of their unknown foes. Face covered with bruises and head wrapped in a piece of linen, Nicholas had taken a lot of punishment. If the strongest and most resourceful man in the company had been subdued, they reasoned, what hope did the rest of them have?

Sir Michael was highly sympathetic. Flanked by his wife and his steward, he came into the hall at the end of the rehearsal to offer his apologies and to enquire after the condition of the wounded book holder.

‘This is appalling!’ he said, staring at Nicholas’s bruises. ‘I invited you here as my guests and you’ve twice been the target of a vicious attack.’

‘It’s not your fault, Sir Michael,’ said Nicholas.

‘But it is, dear fellow. My wife and I are distraught.’

‘We are,’ confirmed Lady Eleanor, wringing her hands. ‘We’re shocked beyond measure. This kind of thing has simply never happened at Silvermere before.’

‘I did warn Sir Michael,’ said Taylard piously. ‘When there is such opposition to the arrival of a theatre company, it might have been wiser to turn them away.’

‘No, Romball!’ exploded Sir Michael with uncharacteristic vehemence. ‘I’ll not give in to anyone. Westfield’s Men are more than welcome here. I’ll gladly bear any blows that come in their wake.’

‘The blows fell on someone else,’ noted his wife, gazing sadly at Nicholas. ‘Do you really feel well enough to get out of bed, Master Bracewell?’

‘No, Lady Eleanor,’ said Nicholas with a grin, ‘but if I’m not there, you’ll have no play this afternoon and your guests will be bitterly disappointed.’

‘You’re so brave!’

‘I suspect it’s more a case of folly than bravery.’

‘And loyalty,’ added Firethorn, joining the group. ‘A bang on the head will not stop Nick Bracewell from steering us through another performance. But he cannot be expected to patrol the stables every night, Sir Michael,’ he added, confronting his host. ‘What we would like to know is if you’ve arranged for a proper guard to be set?’

‘Romball has the matter in hand,’ said Sir Michael.

‘Yes,’ said the steward officiously. ‘Two men will watch over the stables and the cottages throughout the night. They’ll be relieved at regular intervals so that the pair on duty are always fresh and alert.’

‘How will they be armed?’ asked Firethorn.

‘With sword and dagger.’

‘Give them each a musket from my arsenal,’ ordered Sir Michael.

‘I don’t think they’ll attack again at night,’ said Nicholas, ‘because they know we’ll be ready for them. But it’s a comfort to have armed men on patrol.’

‘What about the villain who tried to burn down the stables, Sir Michael?’ said Firethorn seriously. ‘Do you have any idea who it was?’

‘Not yet, Master Firethorn,’ replied Sir Michael.

‘What about this mad Puritan, Reginald Orr?’

‘He’d certainly be capable of such villainy,’ argued Lady Eleanor.

Taylard was suave. ‘Yet he’d hardly be capable of running so fast away from the stables, Lady Eleanor, and of getting the better of Master Bracewell in a fight. Reginald Orr is not a young man. He’s strong but far from lithe.’

‘Then he’s not the fellow I wrestled on the ground,’ decided Nicholas. ‘He was young, strong and quick. I had him beaten until I was cudgelled from behind by his confederate but I meted out some punishment of my own. Search for a man with a twisted ankle and a wounded wrist. Yes,’ he went on, pointing to his face, ‘and with some bruises like these. I know I drew blood from his nose.’

‘I still think that Reginald Orr is involved in some way,’ said Lady Eleanor.

‘That will emerge in the fullness of time, my dear,’ said her husband. ‘I’ve sent word to the constable to question him closely on the matter.’

‘I’d like to put a few questions to him myself,’ said Firethorn ruefully.

Sir Michael raised appeasing hands. ‘Leave all that to me, Master Firethorn. The only thing you need to worry about is your performance this afternoon. We’ll hold you up no longer. All that I can do is to offer you my sincere apologies and to assure you that no other setback will occur while you’re at Silvermere.’

Gathering up his wife and his steward, the old man backed out of the Great Hall.

Firethorn watched them go with mixed feelings before putting an affectionate arm around the book holder’s shoulders.

‘How do you feel now, Nick?’ he asked.

‘My head is still pounding a little.’

‘You took some severe blows.’

‘I look forward to giving some in return.’