Master Drew found the explanation amusing. “Well now, Master Pentecost Penhallow, how long has Master Keeling been residing here?”
“One, nay two months.”
“Do you know what profession he followed?”
“Profession? He be a gentleman. What else should he do? You’ve seen his clothes and jewels?”
“Is that what he told you? That he was a gentleman?”
The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Suddenly a dark-haired woman appeared from a shadowy corner of the tavern. Twenty years ago, she must have looked much like the young girl whom he had encountered on the landing, thought Master Drew. She began to speak rapidly to him in a language that Master Drew did not understand. It sounded a little like Welsh, but he guessed that it was Cornish.
“Wait a moment, good woman,” protested Master Drew. “What is it you say?”
“Meea navidna cowza Sawsneck,” replied the woman in resignation.
“Taw sy!” snapped her husband, turning with an apologetic smile to the constable. “Forgive my wife, sir. She be from Kerrier, and while she has some understanding at her of English, she does not be speaking it.”
“So, what does Mistress Penhallow say?”
“She complains about the late hours Master Keeling did keep, that’s all.”
“Was he late abroad last night?”
“He was.”
“When did you last see him alive?”
“At midday, but my wife saw him when he came in last night.”
He turned and shot a rapid series of questions at his wife in Cornish.
“She says that he came in with his friend, another gentleman, about midnight. They were a little the worst for drink.”
The woman interrupted and repeated a word that sounded like tervans.
“What is she saying?” demanded Master Drew.
“That they were arguing, strongly.”
“Who was this man, this friend?”
There was another exchange in Cornish, and then Master Pen-hallow said, “My wife says that he was a young man that often used to drink with Master Keeling. Another gentleman by name of Cavendish.”
A satisfied smile spread over Master Drews face. “Master Hal Cavendish? Was that his name?”
“That do be the name, Master Constable. A fine gentleman, I am sure. Have you heard tell of him?”
“That I have. You say that the two came here last night, drunk and arguing? Is it known when Master Cavendish left Master Keeling’s room?”
“It was not by the time that my wife and I retired.”
“Where were you when Master Keeling came in that you did not see him?”
“I was out… on business.”
“On business?”
The man hesitated, with a swift glance at his wife, as if to ensure that she didn’t understand; then he drew the constable to one side. “You know how it be, good master.” He lowered his voice ingratiatingly. “A few shillings can be made from cock fights-”
“Kessynsy!” sneered his wife.
“You were gambling, is that it?” Master Drew guessed the meaning of her accusation.
“I was, master. I confess I was.”
“So you did not return until late? Was all quiet then?… I mean, you heard nothing of this argument overheard by your goodwife?”
“All was quiet. The place was in darkness.”
“And when was this?”
“About the middle watch. I heard the night crier up on the bridge.”
London Bridge stood but a few yards away. Master Drew computed that was between three and four o’clock. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And did your daughter notice anything before she went to bed?”
Master Penhallow’s brows drew together. “My daughter?”
“The girl that I met on the landing; I presume that she is your daughter? After all, she addressed me in your Cornish jargon.”
A look of irritation crossed the man’s face. “I do be apologizing for that, master. I know ‘tis thought offensive to address one such as yourself in our poor gibberish. I will speak harshly to Tamsyn.”
Master Drew stared disapprovingly at Pentecost Penhallow, for he heard no genuine regret in his voice.
What was it Norden had written? And as they are among themselves litigious so seem they yet to retain a kind of concealed envy against the English who they affect with a desire of revenge for their fathers’ sakes by whom their fathers received their repulse. He would have to beware of Penhallow’s feigned obsequiousness. The man resented him for all his deferential speech, and Master Drew put it down to this national antipathy.
“Is that her name? Tamsyn?” he asked.
“Tamsyn Penhallow, if it please you, good master.”
“Did she notice anything unusual last night.”
“Nay, that she did not.”
“How do you know?”
“Why, wouldn’t she be telling me so?”
“Perhaps we should ask her?”
“Truly, good Master Constable, we cannot oblige you in this, for she had only just left to go to the market by the cathedral.”
Master Drew sighed. “I will be back soon. In the meantime, no one must enter into the room of Master Keeling. Understand?”
Pentecost Penhallow nodded glumly. “But when may we clear the room, master? It is not pleasing to have a corpse lying abed there for when the vapors do be emanating-”
“I will be back before midday,” the constable cut him short, and left the Red Boar Inn, still clutching the script he had gathered from the floor of Keeling’s room.
Although it was still early in the day, he made his way directly to the circular Globe playhouse, which was only a ten-minute walk away. He was greeted by the elderly gatekeeper, Master Jasper.
“A good day, Master Constable. You are abroad early.” The old man touched his cap in respectful greeting.
“Indeed, I am, and surprised to see you here at this hour.”
“Ah, they are rehearsing inside this morning.” The old man jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
“I had hoped as much. I’ll lay a wager with you, good Jasper.” The constable smiled in good humor. “I’ll wager you what new play is in rehearsal.”
The old doorkeeper laughed. “I know well enough not to lay wagers with the Constable of the Watch. But for curiosity’s sake, do make your guess.”
“The Life of King Henry the Fifth.”
“The very same,” chuckled Master Jasper in appreciation.
“Is Master Hal Cavendish playing in it?”
“You have a good memory for the names of our players,” observed the old man. “But young Hal Cavendish be an unhappy man because Hal cannot play Hal in this production.”
“Explain?” asked Master Drew, allowing the old gatekeeper a few moments to chuckle at his own obscure joke.
“Young Hal Cavendish fancied himself as playing the leading part of King Hal but now must make do with the part of the Dauphin. He is bitter. He is understudying the part of King Hal, but if he could arrange an accident to he who plays the noble Harry Fifth, young Cavendish would lief as not be more than content.”
Master Drew stroked the side of his nose with a lean forefinger. “Is that the truth of it?”
“Aye, truth and more. Hal Cavendish is a vain young man when it comes to an assessment of his talents, and that is no lie. Mind you, good Constable, all those who tread the boards beyond are of a muchness in that vanity.”
“Do you also have a player called Will Keeling in the band of King’s Players?”
To Master Drews surprise, Master Jasper shook his head.
“Then tell me, out of interest, who plays the part of Henry the Fifth, whose role Hal Cavendish so desires?”
“Ah, a young Hibernian. Whelton Keehan. He has newly joined the company.”
Master Drew raised a cynical eyebrow. “Whelton Keehan, eh. What manner of young man is he? Can you describe him?”
Master Jasper was good at descriptions, and at the end of his speech, the constable pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I would have a word with Master Cavendish, good Jasper,” he said.