‘He will already have heard of Ben Skeat’s death.’
‘I speak of my own demise.’
‘That news will keep, I fancy,’ said Nicholas tactfully. ‘Master Firethorn has already endured severe toothache and a visit from Barnaby Gill. Three calamities in one day are too much for any man to bear.’
‘Why does he not have the tooth drawn?’
‘He fears the surgeon.’
‘Does he expect the pain to go away on its own?’
‘His prayers tend in that direction.’
‘The only way to cure a diseased tooth is to pull it out by the roots,’ said Hoode in maudlin tones as he saw a parallel situation. ‘As with Lawrence, so with the company.’
‘Company?’
‘We have been in pain these many months, Nick. Poor performances of weak plays by dispirited actors. Our reputation has suffered. It wounds me to say this but our rivals wax while we but wane. Banbury’s Men hold first place among the companies. We trail far behind them.’
‘How does a diseased tooth come into it?’
‘He lurches along at your side.’
‘You?’
‘Who else?’ He heaved a deep sigh of regret. ‘I did not realise it until this afternoon but I am the source of pain in the mouth of the company. The Corrupt Bargain was a symbol of our agony. My failure has infected everyone. Until I am plucked from Westfield’s Men by a pair of pincers, the rest of you will suffer the torments of the damned.’
‘Those torments would be greater still without you.’
‘My way is clear. I must quit the theatre.’
‘Your contract forbids you.’
‘I’ll buy myself out of it.’
‘But you love the stage, Edmund.’
‘It no longer loves me.’
‘Put these wild thoughts aside,’ said Nicholas. ‘A true man of the theatre will never desert his calling.’
‘You did.’
‘That was…a mistake that was soon put right.’
‘But you did try to escape this verminous occupation.’
‘Yes,’ conceded the other. ‘I did.’
Nicholas fell silent. It was not a happy memory and he tried to erase it from his mind. When a woman whom he loved forced him to choose between her and the theatre, he had turned his back on the latter only to find that his sacrifice had come too late. Restored to the fold, he vowed that he would never try to leave it again. The theatre offered only a precarious living but it was his natural home.
Edmund Hoode burbled on without even realising that he was having a long conversation with himself. His mood of self-pity was gradually eroded by exhaustion and he was virtually hanging on to his friend’s shoulder as they came within sight of Silver Street. Nicholas only half listened to the sorrowful outpourings. Another sound had claimed his interest and he had been glancing behind him whenever they came to a bend or a corner. When they finally reached Hoode’s lodging, he propped the poet up against the wall and put a hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘Do not leave me here, Nick,’ begged the other.
‘It will not be for long.’
‘Take me in. I can never climb those stairs alone.’
‘Wait but a moment.’
‘Why do we stay here in the street?’
‘Because we are followed,’ whispered Nicholas.
‘I see no one.’
‘He stays in the shadows.’
‘Where?’
‘Watch.’
Drawing his weapon, Nicholas swung quickly round and ran diagonally across to the dark alley on the other side of the narrow street. Someone stirred in the darkness and he caught the flash of another blade. Nicholas engaged his man at once and the swords clashed in the gloom.
‘Hold, sir! Hold!’ called his adversary. ‘I seek no quarrel. I am a friend!’
‘Why, then, do you fight with me?’
‘Merely to defend myself. I pray you, stand off.’
Nicholas took a few steps back but kept his weapon at the ready. The other man stepped forward into the half-light with an apologetic smile. He gave a shrug and sheathed his own sword. Nicholas was startled. It was the young man whom he had seen roistering at the Queen’s Head but there was no hint of the latter’s inebriation now. The roaring boy had become a gentleman who bore himself with dignity.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Nicholas.
‘Someone who would like to know you better, sir.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘That can only be divulged in privacy.’
‘You followed us!’
‘How else could I find out where you went?’
‘Why were you carousing with our fellows?’
‘So that I could learn more about Nicholas Bracewell.’
‘Me?’
‘You and Edmund Hoode.’ He pointed to the sword. ‘We would have easier conference if you were to put that away. I mean you no harm. I will happily surrender my own weapon, if that will reassure you.’
‘No need.’ Nicholas relaxed slightly and sheathed his sword. ‘Now, sir. What is your name?’
‘I would rather not speak it in the street.’
‘Why have you come to spy on us?’
‘Because I need your help,’ said the other with obvious sincerity. ‘I would not have come else. You and Master Hoode are the only ones whom I could trust.’
‘Trust?’
‘May we not step inside the house? It is safer there.’
‘Safer?’
‘For all three of us.’
‘Why?’
The young man threw a nervous glance up and down the street before stepping back into the shadows. His rampant joviality had been left behind at the Queen’s Head. He had other preoccupations now. There was a polite seriousness about him which compelled respect. He certainly posed no threat to Nicholas.
Edmund Hoode was now barely awake, his back to the wall of the little half-timbered house, his feet slowly losing their purchase on the cracked paving. He registered the newcomer’s appearance without hearing a word of what he said. Secure in the knowledge that Nicholas Bracewell would fend for him, Hoode gave up all pretence of interest in the remainder of the day and drifted off into a welcome sleep. The book holder was just in time to catch him before he slumped to the ground. Crossing to join them, the young man took his share of the playwright’s weight.
‘One good turn deserves another,’ he said.
‘Leave him be, sir.’
‘Two can carry more easily than one.’
Nicholas spurned the offer. Hoisting the slim body of Edmund Hoode across his shoulders, he took him swiftly into the house before ascending the rickety staircase to his chamber. The room was in darkness but Nicholas knew its geography well enough to negotiate the meagre furniture and lower his cargo gently down on to the bed. Hoode gave a loud yawn of gratitude. After lighting a candle and checking that his friend was lying in a comfortable position, Nicholas went back downstairs and into the street. It seemed to be quite empty but he knew that their visitor would be hiding in the shadows.
‘Come forth, sir,’ he called.
‘Thank you,’ said the other, emerging from the darkness.
‘I shall want plain speaking if you are admitted.’
‘You will get it.’
Nicholas led the way in and shut the front door behind them. When they entered Hoode’s chamber, the lodger was still dozing peacefully on the bed. The young man peered down at him with some misgiving.
‘He does not look like a famous poet.’
‘Appearances can mislead. As you well know.’
‘Indeed, Master Bracewell.’
They exchanged a smile. The young man crossed to the window and gazed down into the street for a moment. Only when he was satisfied that there was nobody outside the house did he turn around and nod at Nicholas. The latter appraised him shrewdly.
‘Why all this secrecy?’ he said.
‘I am often watched.’
‘By whom?’
‘That is the problem. I do not know.’
‘Are you in danger?’
‘I will be.’
Nicholas waved him to a stool, then moved the candle so that it illuminated the visitor’s face. Handsome features were set off by a dark beard that was carefully trimmed. A high forehead glistened with intelligence. The large brown eyes sparkled. It was time for some elucidation.