‘The kind word will come with a hard blow if you stay. Stand off, sir. Your stink will infect me.’
‘I seek but instruction.’
‘Then I instruct you to leave.’
‘Does Abel Strudwick live in this house?’
‘Who?’
‘Strudwick, sir. A noble family of some repute.’
‘This is the home of the Chamberlain, sir.’
‘What name would that be?’
‘Master Aubrey Kenyon.’
The man brushed him aside and went into the house. The waterman danced on his toes and clapped his hands together with glee. He was certain that he had just found out a significant piece of information and he had done so by the skill of his performance as an actor. It deserved some recognition. Abel Strudwick turned to an invisible audience and gave a deep bow.
In the busy street, only he could hear the applause.
They met him at the brewhouse and he took them down to the cellar where the barrels of Ashway Beer were kept to await delivery. The familiar aroma made Firk feel very thirsty but James Renfrew had more refined tastes. They found a quiet corner where they could not be overheard. Rowland Ashway had new orders to issue.
‘Gentlemen, you travel to Richmond tomorrow.’
‘Why there?’ said Firk.
‘Because I tell you,’ said the alderman. ‘A play is being staged at an inn called the Nine Giants.’
‘By Westfield’s Men?’ guessed Renfrew.
‘The very same.’
Firk was pleased. ‘Then I’ll go gladly, sir. I have an account to settle with a certain book holder.’
‘That is not the main reason I send you, man. Someone else will be in Richmond tomorrow night.’
‘Who, sir?’
‘Mistress Stanford.’
‘The new young bride?’ said Renfrew with interest.
‘Without her husband.’
‘This is good fortune indeed, sir. But what brings the lady to the Nine Giants?’
‘My informer does not provide that intelligence. When you listen at doors, you do not hear all, but what he has gleaned is enough in itself.’ He chortled aloud. ‘I know more about what happens at Stanford Place then Stanford himself. It pays to have friends in the right position.’
‘What must we do?’ asked Renfrew.
‘Seize on this accident that heaven provides.’
‘Kill the lady?’ said Firk hopefully.
‘Kidnap her. That will cause panic enough. With his wife under lock and key, not even Walter Stanford will have the stomach to become Lord Mayor. We strike a blow where it will damage him the most.’
‘Where will she be taken?’ said Renfrew.
‘That I will decide.’
Firk leered. ‘And may she be tampered with?’
‘No!’ snapped Ashway. ‘Mend your manners, sir.’ He pulled a letter from his belt. ‘And while you are in Richmond, you may do me another favour, sirs. Do you see this letter?’ He waved it angrily. ‘Shall I tell you who sent it? Shall I tell you who favours me with his royal command? None but Lord Westfield himself.’
‘The patron of the players,’ said Renfrew.
‘He takes up their case as if he is judge and jury. The noble lord has heard of my purchase of the Queen’s Head and orders me — orders, mark you, no hint of request here, sirs — he orders me to let Westfield’s Men remain. And he does so in such round terms that I am treated less like an owner and more like the meanest lackey.’ He tore the letter up and threw the pieces away. ‘This is an insult that must be answered forthwith.’
‘How?’ said Firk.
‘I’ll put his company out of sorts for good!’
‘Chase them out from the Queen’s Head?’
‘No, sir. Kill their king. Lawrence Firethorn.’
The prospect of an additional murder brought a low cackle from Firk. He had his own grudge against the company and this would help to assuage it. Before they could discuss the matter further, they were interrupted by heavy footsteps as a vast drayman came down the steps to collect a barrel. Ashway glanced across and relaxed.
‘Ignore him, sirs. Too stupid to listen and too senseless to remember anything he hears.’ He put an arm on each of their shoulders. ‘All roads lead to Richmond. In one bold strike, we may finish off Stanford and get revenge on Westfield’s Men.’
‘Do not forget Master Bracewell,’ said Firk.
Ashway smiled. ‘Deal with him as you will. Firethorn first then this troublesome book holder.’
‘The second will please me most.’
‘How will you do it, Firk?’
‘Strangling, sir. A very quiet death.’
He gave a macabre laugh and Ashway joined in but their companion remained silent and withdrawn. James Renfrew was staring angrily ahead of him as if viewing an object of extreme hatred with his single eye. His lip curled.
‘There is an easier way yet, I think,’ he said.
‘What is that?’ asked the brewer.
‘Murder the man himself.’
‘Walter Stanford?’
‘Cut him down without mercy!’
‘No,’ said Ashway. ‘We can disable his mayoralty by another means. It is far too dangerous to attack him directly. That must only be done as a last resort.’
‘By me,’ insisted Renfrew.
‘Why?’
‘It is my right and I claim it now. The worthy mercer is all mine and nobody else must touch him. I have waited a long time to settle my score with him.’
‘Do you detest your uncle so much?’
‘Beyond all imagining,’ said the other. ‘He ruined my life. I was young, I was free, I was happy. I spread joy among the ladies of the city and they could not get enough of me. Good Uncle Walter called me to order. He told me that my days in the sun were over. Henceforward, I had to work for him in some dingy room and learn responsibility.’
‘Is that why you went in the army?’
Renfrew nodded. ‘It was my only escape. My only way of prolonging my freedom — or so I fondly thought. The army was a living hell! Thanks to Walter Stanford, I went through two years of complete misery and ended up looking like this.’ He lifted the eye patch to show an ugly, red, raw socket. ‘Do you see, sirs? I went into the army as a handsome man with his whole life in front of him. I came out disfigured!’ He put the patch back in position. ‘My uncle killed the real Michael Delahaye. He deserves to die himself.’
‘This wound is deep indeed,’ said Ashway.
‘He talks of nothing else,’ added Firk.
‘I share his loathing of Walter Stanford.’
‘Nobody could despise him as I do,’ said the vengeful nephew. ‘I denounce all that he is and all that he stands for and will do anything to maim his chances as Lord Mayor. He has condemned me to a half-life under a stolen name. Two short years ago, ladies flocked to me and showered me with their favours. Now I have to buy their bodies and fornicate in darkness where they cannot see my face. That is what I owe to this monster of goodness, Walter Stanford!’
Rowland Ashway and Firk were mesmerised by the intensity of his anger. None of them saw the drayman lift a barrel onto his shoulder and struggle off upstairs with it. He moved ponderously and took care not to drop his cargo. It was a long and troublesome climb.
Leonard was carrying onerous news.
Walter Stanford made no objection at all when his wife asked permission to visit her cousin near Wimbledon. Acting on her maidservant’s advice, Matilda claimed to have been invited to call on her sick relative at the earliest opportunity. Her husband did not even ask the nature of the putative illness because he was too overwhelmed with work and with worry. He simply put his coach at her disposal and told her that he would see her on her return. Grief had aged him visibly and put more distance between him and his wife. Matilda took sad note of it.
‘I feel that I no longer know him,’ she confided.
‘That is often the way in marriage.’
‘We seem to be growing apart.’
‘Fill your life another way.’
‘My husband’s work always comes first.’
‘That is hardly a compliment to you.’
They were being driven along a bumpy road on a dull afternoon by a coachman who was there only to obey orders. Matilda travelled with Prudence Ling and both were thrilled to get away from the confinements of London life. The verdant acres all around them gave promise of a freedom that neither had enjoyed for some time. On the command of his mistress, the coachman drove on to Richmond and stopped at the Nine Giants. While the ladies went inside to dine, he shared a drink with the ostlers and listened amiably to their country gossip. Matilda and her maidservant, meanwhile, had been shown upstairs to the room that had already been reserved by Lawrence Firethorn. Candles were lit and the table was set but the room was dominated by a large fourposter. Prudence giggled.