Leaning forward in his seat, he examined Sir John Tarker’s new suit of armour with meticulous care until he was satisfied that his money had been well spent. The gleaming breastplate was decorated with white and gilt bands into which the Tarker coat-of-arms had been inscribed. The helmet had similar decoration and a latticed visor which protected its owner’s face completely while giving him a fair degree of visibility. The leg armour was beautifully tailored to allow easy movement. Even from that distance, the Master of the Armoury could see that the gauntlets were masterpieces of construction, the left one a manifer or bridle gauntlet, designed to cover hand and lower arm on the exposed side of the jouster.
Sir John Tarker’s destrier was also arrayed. Its shaffron, a superbly moulded piece of armour that covered its forehead, cheeks and nose, allowed clear vision through the flanged eyeholes. A spike projected from the centre of the forehead to give it the appearance of a steel unicorn. The horse also wore a patterned crinet, a section of armour that was attached to the shaffron in order to guard the animal’s neck and mane. During a tournament itself, the destrier would also wear armour plate to protect its chest, crupper and flank but Tarker had dispensed with that during the practice in the interests of speed. Other knights would have baulked at exposing their mounts to unnecessary danger in this way but Tarker was confident that his skill in jousting was a sufficient safeguard for the animal.
Sir Godfrey Avenell was suitably impressed. His man cut a fine figure in the saddle. When he fought in the Accession Day Tournament in November, Sir John Tarker would need to call on his friend for some additional expenditure. Much preparation went into such an illustrious event. A knight had to decide on a theme for his entry into the tiltyard and choose the costumes for himself, his pages, his servants, his lance bearers, his grooms, his trumpeters and any other musicians he hired for extra effect. His horse, too, would require a caparison to match the costumes. Sir Godfrey Avenell had already laid out well over?400 on the suit of armour and its garniture. He was quite happy to meet further exorbitant costs in order to attain the best results.
Sir John Tarker trotted across to him and dipped his lance in acknowledgement. Avenell took a closer inventory.
‘How does the armour feel?’ he said.
‘It fits me like the supplest of leather.’
‘Weight?’
‘Heavy enough to protect, light enough for movement.’
‘Decoration?’
‘Exactly as prescribed.’
‘Total cost?’
‘Murderous!’ They shared a laugh. ‘I am eternally in your debt. Shall I put it to the test?’
‘That is why I am here.’
‘Then watch.’
Sir John Tarker wheeled his horse and spurred it into a canter that took it to the far end of the tiltyard. Reining it in, he swung round once more to face his opponent, a burly knight in dark armour, sitting astride a powerful black destrier that was drumming the turf with its hooves. Tarker’s reputation frightened away many combatants but this man clearly had courage enough for the encounter and confidence enough in his own ability. He adjusted his shield, lifted his lance and made ready.
The preliminaries were soon over. When the signal was given, the two riders jabbed their horses into action and pounded towards each other on either side of the tilt. Sir Godfrey Avenell respected the challenger’s skill but knew it would be unequal to the task. Sir John Tarker was a masterly jouster. His mount was steered at the right pace, his lance and shield held at the correct angles. The long pummelling approach ended in a momentary clash of metal. Tarker’s shield deflected the oncoming lance while his own weapon found a tiny gap in the defence and struck his adversary full in the chest. Since the lance was rebated, its blunt end did not damage the breastplate but the man was promptly unseated and Sir Godfrey Avenell rocked with appreciative laughter.
Tarker reined in his horse again and trotted back to the fallen rider with token concern. Pages were already running to the latter’s assistance.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No, Sir John,’ said the other breathlessly, as they helped him up. ‘My pride only has been wounded.’
‘Will you remount and engage me a second time?’
‘I will not. Find some other fool to challenge you.’
Tarker grinned behind his visor. ‘They are frighted.’
‘Who can blame them? You have no peer as a jouster. A man with your skills could look to be Queen’s Champion.’
‘I do, believe me. I do.’
Pleased with his performance and wanting approbation from the source he respected most, Tarker took his horse across to the gallery once more. He flicked up his visor so that he could see Sir Godfrey Avenell more clearly and enjoy the latter’s praise. His friend, however, was no longer beaming down at the tiltyard. He was reading a letter, which had just been handed to him by a servant. The frown of alarm became a scowl of anger as he scrunched up the missive in his hand. Rising to his feet, he fixed Tarker with a venomous glare and pointed an accusatory finger.
‘You failed me again!’ he snarled.
‘How?’
‘You swore the matter was dead and buried.’
‘What matter?’ He realised the subject of the letter and spluttered. ‘It is. We may forget the whole thing.’
‘We may but Westfield’s Men will not.’
‘Westfield’s Men?’
‘Two of their number visited a house in Greenwich but yesterday,’ said Avenell. ‘One was their playwright and the other was this Nicholas Bracewell whom your men, you assured me, had beaten into submission.’
‘They did!’ asserted Tarker. ‘On my honour, they did!’
‘You failed.’
‘That is not so!’
‘You failed miserably,’ said Avenell with scorn. ‘I give you a simple task and you let me down. Does such an imbecile deserve the brightest armour from the workshops? Has such a bungler any call on my friendship?’
‘I did but as you urged me,’ said Tarker hurriedly. ‘If there is some fault, it is not of my making. Blame the fools I hired. They promised me they had all but finished this Nicholas Bracewell. They lied to me, the rogues. I’ll have the hide off their backs for this.’
‘I’ll have the armour off yours!’ snarled Avenell. ‘If you do not wipe up this mess you have made-and that with all celerity-I’ll turn Sir John Tarker into the poorest knight in Christendom. You’ll be jousting at the Accession Tournament in fustian on the back of a donkey. The Queen’s Champion indeed! They will hail you as the Queen’s Champion jester!’
***
Westfield’s Men were steeped in affliction and seasoned by regular crisis but the next ten days brought pressures of an intensity that even they had not known before. The whole company was in a state of muted desperation. Stimulated to a fever pitch of creation by his visit to Greenwich, Edmund Hoode worked tirelessly on The Roaring Boy, wholly convinced of its importance and buttressed by thoughts of winning the approval of Emilia Brinklow. He still acted in the current offerings at the Queen’s Head but no longer stayed for a celebratory drink after a performance. Within half an hour of quitting the stage, he was back at his post in the lodging he shared with Nicholas Bracewell.
The book holder himself rarely left Hoode’s side. He helped him, advised him and guaranteed his safety. Given the proper space in which to work, the playwright blossomed. Owen Elias was a second line of defence, watching over his friends from a distance and ready to ward off any attack. The rest of the company were also schooled in the basic elements of security. Convinced that Westfield’s Men might be ambushed at any moment, Lawrence Firethorn counselled them to stay in groups at all times and to remain alert.
But the expected assault never came. The Roaring Boy was allowed to grow from a halting drama into a fullfledged play. The actors did not, however, relax. They felt that they had merely been given a stay of execution and that the axe would fall on them in time. Nicholas Bracewell wondered if its enemies planned to scupper the play in a more bloodless fashion. Every new work had first to be read by the Master of the Revels before it was licensed for performance. If Sir John Tarker had some influence at court, he might well use it to have the play banned. To guard against that eventuality, Nicholas suggested a counteraction.