‘They took me to Master Olgrave’s room,’ she murmured.
Lawrence Firethorn was taken aback when he first met the man. Philomen Lavery was not at all what he had expected. Having knocked hard on the door of the man’s room at the Queen’s Head, he was confronted by a sight that drained him instantly of the fury he had built up. Lavery did not only look meek and mild, he was holding a Bible in his hands. He gave his visitor a luminous smile.
‘Master Firethorn,’ he said. ‘This is an honour.’
‘You know who I am?’
‘All London knows who you are, sir, and I have had the privilege of seeing you on the stage here. You are beyond compare as an actor. I humble myself before you.’
Firethorn was flattered. ‘Which of my roles do you admire most?’
‘All are played with equal skill,’ said Lavery, opening the door wider. ‘But do step inside. I knew that you would come to see me sooner or later.’
‘You knew?’
‘The landlord told me that you frowned upon my presence here.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Firethorn, stepping into the room and trying to assert himself. ‘True it is, I have some qualms about you, Master Lavery. This is the first moment I’ve had to voice them.’
Lavery closed the door. ‘Speak on, sir.’ He put the Bible on the table. ‘Unless you wish me first to remove my shoes.’
‘Your shoes?’
‘So that you may inspect my feet to see if I have cloven hooves.’
‘There’s no need for that.’
‘You’ll have to take my word that I lack a forked tail,’ said Lavery, ‘for it would be indecent of me to lower my breeches.’
Firethorn grinned. ‘If Barnaby Gill were here, it would also be unwise.’
‘I am no creature from Hell. As you see, I study Holy Writ on the Sabbath.’
‘The Devil has been known to quote scripture, Master Lavery.’
‘But he has never been known to lose at cards.’
‘Lose?’
‘That’s the fate that befell me last night,’ said Lavery. ‘I won money from Frank Quilter and even from Adam Crowmere, then along comes a member of your company and I am suddenly out of pocket again.’
‘One of the actors?’ asked Firethorn in annoyance.
‘James Ingram.’
‘He dared to come here after I’d warned him against doing so?’
‘With the greatest respect, Master Firethorn, you are not his keeper. You may warn but not coerce your fellows. Had he listened to you, James Ingram would not now be able to count his winnings.’
‘I am worried about those who incur losses at your table.’
‘Then you must extend your sympathy to me,’ said Lavery with another smile. ‘I fell in love with card games many years ago. I’d play for the sheer pleasure of it, without a penny changing hands, but those who come to my room insist on placing a wager. What can I do, Master Firethorn?’
‘Turn them away.’
‘And deny myself the joy of a game?’
‘If you wish to play cards, visit a gaming house. The city is full of them.’
‘And the gaming houses are full of cony-catchers, men who play with marked cards that allow them to win at will. I want an honest game where chance is paramount.’ Lavery became anxious. ‘Has anyone complained that I cheat?’
‘No, that charge has not been levelled against you.’
‘Do they think me dishonest?’
‘You are exonerated there as well, Master Lavery.’
‘Then wherein lies my offence?’
‘You are distracting my fellows,’ said Firethorn.
‘Every man needs distraction of some kind. Look around you. Some find their pleasure in ale, others in women, others again in bear baiting or cock fighting. London is brimming with such distractions,’ Lavery pointed out, ‘and the theatre is among the best of them. Those who come to the Queen’s Head take the same risk as a card player. They pay money in the hope of gain. If the play is dull or the actors jaded, the spectators have lost all that they invested.’
‘That never happens here,’ said Firethorn, proudly. ‘Our audiences always get far more than they pay for, Master Lavery. Do not insult us by comparing us to a game of cards. Westfield’s Men offer drama and excitement.’
‘Both of those are on display here, albeit in smaller measure.’
‘I do not see them.’
‘That is because you have not felt the surge of blood as you turn a card.’ Lavery crossed to a shelf and took down a pack of cards. ‘Allow me to show you, sir.’
Firethorn took a step back. ‘Keep those away from me.’
‘They’ll not bite you, Master Firethorn. How can they? Look,’ he said, putting the pack on the table and spreading it out. ‘Are you afraid of a few pieces of card?’
‘I’ve seen what they do to others.’
‘Yes, they can fill a purse. Speak to James Ingram on that account.’
‘I’ll speak to him to chide him for his folly.’
‘At least know what drew him to my table,’ said Lavery. ‘It is so simple and yet so pleasurable. Watch me.’ He turned over a card. ‘Now, Master Firethorn, choose one yourself and see if it is higher than mine.’
‘Do you dare to trick me into a game?’ roared Firethorn.
‘This is no game, sir. I merely offer proof. Come now, I do not seek your money, only your understanding.’ He indicated the cards. ‘Turn one over then tell me if you did not feel a twinge of excitement.’
Firethorn was reluctant. ‘I prefer to find excitement in other ways.’
‘What can you lose? There’s no trickery here. Chance determines all.’
‘That’s what you said to Nathan Curtis and Hugh Wegges.’
‘They pressed me to play for money,’ said Lavery. ‘I could not refuse a wager. Here, there is no such risk. All that you forfeit is your suspicion of the game.’
‘Do not rely on that,’ said Firethorn, eyeing the cards. ‘I choose one?’
‘From anywhere in the pack.’
‘How do I know they are not marked?’
‘Examine them, if you wish.’
‘No, no, I’ll take your word for it.’
After a moment’s hesitation, Firethorn selected a card and turned it over. The face of a red king stared up at him. He could not resist a smile at his good fortune.
‘You see?’ said Lavery. ‘You are the winner. Had you wagered a groat on that card, you’d be walking away with two. Now, Master Firethorn,’ he went on, collecting the cards up again, ‘tell me the truth. Do you feel defiled for having played a game? Were you disappointed when you made your choice? What do you say?’
There was a considered pause. ‘Let’s try it again,’ said Firethorn.
Nicholas arrived back at the house to discover that Dorothea Tate had retired to bed for the afternoon. He was very grateful. It gave him an opportunity to pass on the sad tidings to Anne Hendrik. She was aghast at what she heard.
‘Her friend was murdered?’ she said.
‘Battered to death then tossed into the river.’
‘Can you be certain that it was him?’
‘No,’ admitted Nicholas. ‘We only met Hywel once and that was brief enough. But we recognised a scar upon his nose and it seems too great a coincidence that he should turn up where and when he did. Owen and I are persuaded that it is him, but only Dorothea would know for definite.’
‘Must she, then, view the body?’
‘I think not, Anne. It’s the last thing she must do. It’s a gruesome sight for anyone to look upon. No,’ he decided, ‘Dorothea must be allowed to remember him as he was. Were she to visit the morgue, that bloated image would haunt her forever.’
‘Who could have done such a thing to him?’
‘We have one suspect at least.’
‘Master Beechcroft?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘I had to restrain Owen from charging off to Bridewell to accuse the man to his face. We have no proof as yet. Besides, the man may be innocent of the charge. Hot words were spoken against Hywel but that does not mean they were acted upon. Joseph Beechcroft may not be involved at all.’
‘Then who is?’
‘I do not know, Anne. London is full of danger and we know that Hywel would not run away from a fight. He might have been attacked by a gang, who threw him in the Thames. Or fallen foul of a sailor who tumbled out of a tavern. Bodies are all too often hauled out of the water.’