‘I worked on the play with Stephen,’ insisted the other. ‘I was a co-author.’
‘Taking the credit for someone else’s genius,’ said Nicholas, pointing to the sheets of parchment on the table. ‘As you are trying to do with A Way to Content All Women. Your friend was dead, and unable to stop you, but Edmund Hoode is still alive. So you had to render him helpless.’
Grammaticus was appalled. ‘What are you talking about? I love Edmund.’
‘No, Michael. You only love and covet the position that he holds.’
‘He has ever been my inspiration.’
‘Is that why you and Doctor Zander conspired to poison him?’ said Nicholas, calmly. ‘I wondered why you were so loath to let anyone visit your lodging. We’d have discovered that you and the doctor slept under the same roof. It also explains why you paid the bills and bought all of Edmund’s food. You were never caring for him, Michael, only making sure that he did not recover.’
‘He was recovering,’ argued the playwright. ‘Edmund improved a little each day. You saw that, Nick. It was thanks to the medicine that Doctor Rime prescribed. Or do you accuse him of being in league with us as well?’
‘No, I do not. To call in a second doctor was a cunning trick. It made me think that Edmund’s malady was genuine. When I chanced upon the fact that you and Doctor Zander shared a cottage,’ said Nicholas, ‘my suspicion was aroused. I decided to ask for a third opinion on Edmund’s condition.’ Grammaticus was becoming agitated. ‘I fancy that you’ll have heard the name of Doctor Mordrake?’
The other man gulped. ‘Doctor John Mordrake? The Queen’s physician?’
‘The very same. He’s a friend of mine and, since I was able to do him a favour when we travelled to Bohemia, he felt that he was in my debt. That debt,’ explained Nicholas, advancing on him, ‘has been handsomely repaid. The medicine that Edmund has been taking is an antidote to poison.’
‘That’s what Doctor Rime told us.’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘but he did not realise that you had been supplying the poison in the first place. You first brought Edmund to his knees, then you kept him weak by feeding him more venom day by day.’
‘No, no!’ exclaimed the other. ‘Why on earth should I do that?’
Nicholas pointed to the table. ‘There lies your answer, Michael. You wanted to get your hands on Edmund’s work and usurp his position. The antidote may have revived him a little but you hindered his recovery by administering more poison in the fruit and in the broth that you brought for him.’
‘I worshipped the man, Nick. I’d not harm him for the world.’ He crossed to the door. ‘Let Emmanuel explain it to you. He’ll convince you that we acted for the best.’
Grammaticus let himself out and clattered down the stairs. Nicholas crossed to the table, standing in its own pool of light. Sheets of parchment had already been covered in words but to little effect. When he read one attempt at the new scene, Nicholas found scant wit and feeble humour. Evidently, A Way to Content All Women had found the would-be author out.
The door swung open again and Grammaticus returned with Doctor Zander at his elbow. Because they were at the darker end of the room Nicholas could only see them in shadow. Zander was pulsing with righteous indignation.
‘What’s this I hear?’ he demanded. ‘You called in a doctor behind my back when I was engaged to treat the patient? That’s unforgivable.’
‘It was essential,’ returned Nicholas. ‘Doctor Mordrake unmasked you both.’
‘Mordrake! Ha! That old fool is no doctor. He’s a mad alchemist who believes he can turn base metal into gold.’
‘Her Majesty sees fit to retain him, Doctor Zander. Can you claim that honour?’
‘I dispute Mordrake’s conclusion.’
‘Then let us call in a fourth and fifth doctor to examine Edmund,’ said Nicholas. ‘They’ll only find what Doctor Rime and Doctor Mordrake did. The patient was being poisoned to keep him away from Westfield’s Men.’
Zander stamped a foot. ‘Do you dare to insult my reputation?’
‘You no longer have a reputation. Before I’ve finished, I’ll see the pair of you behind bars for this. You put a friend of mine through a dreadful ordeal to satisfy your own designs. Heavens!’ said Nicholas. ‘You might have killed him.’
‘We’d never have done that,’ insisted Grammaticus. ‘I swear it.’
‘Be quiet, Michael,’ said Zander.
‘No, Emmanuel. What is the point? He knows too much.’
‘Admit nothing, man. He has no proof.’
‘I’ve ample proof,’ said Nicholas. ‘There’s even more on that table. Michael has been humbled. He’s no Edmund Hoode, and it appears that he’s no Stephen Wragby either.’ Grammaticus lowered his head. ‘Who did write those plays, Michael?’
‘Stephen did,’ confessed the other.
‘Wrote them and translated them?’
‘Yes, Nick. But I helped him every inch of the way. I simply wanted to preserve his memory by having Stephen’s work performed upon a London stage.’
‘Then why not leave his name on the plays?’
‘Because they were bequeathed to me. Don’t you see? They were mine.’
‘Listen,’ said Zander, changing his tone. ‘There is a way out of this unfortunate dilemma. What we did was wrong, I grant you, that but there was no malice in it. Why,’ he added with a forced laugh, ‘we kept Edmund Hoode alive to write another day. Do not destroy Michael’s ambition like this. Let his new play be performed.’
‘Yes,’ pleaded Grammaticus. ‘We’ll pay you anything, Nick. It’s my dearest wish that The Siege of Troy is seen at the Queen’s Head. Let me have but that and you’ll see no more of me.’
Zander felt his purse. ‘Come, sir, how much will it cost to buy your silence?’
‘We are friends, Nick. Do it as a favour to me.’
‘The only favour I’ll do is for Edmund Hoode,’ said Nicholas, firmly. ‘The two of you will be arrested, tried and convicted. What you did was evil and unpardonable.’
‘You are a very foolish man,’ said Zander, putting a hand to his belt.
‘And you are a corrupt one. You were there to cure, not to inflict more misery.’
‘Michael paid me well for my help. Had you been more sensible, you might have shared some of that money. As it is,’ Zander went on, pulling something from his belt, ‘you will get nothing beyond a last farewell.’
He moved forward so that Nicholas could see that he was holding a pistol. His hand was steady and he looked as if he was determined to shoot. Nicholas was tensing himself to leap at the man when Grammaticus flew into a panic.
‘No, Emmanuel,’ he cried. ‘Do not kill him. Nick has helped me.’
‘Do you want him to help you to a prison cell?’
‘I’d rather that than stand accused of murder.’
‘Out of my way,’ snapped Zander. ‘I’ll be his executioner.’
‘I’ll not allow it!’ yelled Grammaticus.
He grabbed the wrist that was holding the gun and there was a fierce struggle. Before Nicholas could intervene, the pistol went off and Grammaticus emitted a cry of agony before slumping to the floor. Bending over him, Nicholas saw that he had been wounded in the shoulder. He looked up at Zander.
‘Now, doctor,’ he said. ‘Do you think that you can help a patient for once?’
Lawrence Firethorn berated himself for his own folly. Having won several games in a row, he knew that he should have quit the card table and returned to Shoreditch. But the hope of even larger winnings spurred him on. He soon began to falter. Though he had lost at the start of the evening, Philomen Lavery suddenly improved to take game after game. The money that Firethorn had won was slowly whittled away. By the time that the actor finally fled from the inn, he had barely enough coins in his purse to bribe the gatekeeper to let him out of the city through the postern. He rode home at a somnolent canter. When he got to the house in Old Street, he found it in darkness. Margery, it seemed, had either gone to bed or was waiting to ambush him again.