“Why, indeed?” said Shakespeare. “Your reasoning is sound. Well done. And I agree completely.”
“And there is one more thing that makes me doubt his guilt,” said Smythe.
“And what is that?”
“The fact that someone tried to kill me tonight while I was following Elizabeth to the vault.”
“What?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “And you never said a thing about it!”
“ ‘Twas not the time, I thought. And I wanted to see what would occur between you two.”
“What do you mean someone tried to kill you?” Shakespeare asked, with concern. “How?”
“With a crossbow,” Smythe replied. “And whoever shot that bolt damn near put it through my eye.”
“Good Lord!” said Shakespeare.
“Nearly killed!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “And you said nothing!” “There seemed no reason to say anything about it then. I had thought he saw an opportunity to strike and followed me out from the house, for I heard someone running back toward it after the bolt was shot. Now, however, it occurs to me that whoever shot at me may have been coming back to the house from the tomb, instead.”
“Then would I have not seen him on the path?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not if he heard you coming and hid until you had passed.”
“I do not understand,” Elizabeth said. “Why would someone wish to kill you?”
“Because I had overheard their plot,” said Smythe.
“What plot? What on Earth are you talking about?”
“ Elizabeth, do you remember when I told you that ‘twas I who shouted out to warn you there were others present in the maze that night? There were two men… unfortunately, I never saw them, for there was a hedge between us, but I had overheard them plotting. One of them said to the other that with Catherine out of the way, he would be free to make his move. The plot, it seems, was to impersonate a nobleman and his son, then seek to secure Middle-ton’s consent for Blanche’s hand in marriage. The prize would be Blanche, herself, and of course, her dowry, which would likely be considerable, especially if Middleton believed that he were dealing with a nobelman. I heard no further, for I had made some noise and gave myself away, whereupon they tried to run me through with their rapiers right through the hedge.”
Elizabeth gave a gasp and stopped, staring at him with alarm. “Then twice someone has tried to kill you!”
Smythe took her arm and moved her along, not wishing any of the others to catch up and overhear them. “True, they have tried twice, and they may yet try thrice if I cannot unmask them. But… here is my point. I know they were in the maze that night. And now I also know they must have seen me, for they now know who I am, which puts me at a considerable disadvantage. What if they had also overheard what you discussed with Mason? Then they would have known about the plan you made with Catherine. And they would have known that Catherine was not truly dead.”
“But if everyone believed that she were dead, and she was going away with John, then what purpose would be served in killing her?” Elizabeth asked.
“To divert attention and suspicion from themselves,” said Shakespeare.
“Precisely,” Smythe agreed. “We are clearly dealing with coldblooded men who shall stop at nothing to achieve their ends.”
“You must tell Godfrey Middleton about this!”
“He already knows, Elizabeth. As does Sir William. We have told them both about it and have their charge to do anything we can to help get to the bottom of it.”
“He knows about it?” she replied, with amazement. “Then why in God’s name does he blame John?”
“Because he is distraught, Elizabeth. Give the poor man some consideration. He has had a daughter murdered twice in the same day. And then there is his outrage over John being her lover, and worse yet, being a lowly groom.”
“A neighbor’s groom,” said Shakespeare. “A neighbor with whom he fancies himself to be in competition.”
“And do not forget John admitted that the dagger stuck in Catherine’s breast was his,” added Smythe. “Under the circumstances, can anyone blame Middleton for reaching the conclusion that he did? In time, when he has had a chance to recover from this heavy blow, then Middleton shall no doubt see reason and reach the same conclusions that we have. But in the meantime, we must do what we can to find the real killer.”
“And, with any luck, do so without being killed ourselves,” Shakespeare added, wryly. “God’s wounds, but this has been a day to try a man’s soul! Just when I think that things cannot possibly get any worse, they promptly do!”
“You seem to have had quite a time of it,” said Smythe. “You look a sight. What happened?”
“That fool of a driver wrecked the carriage,” Shakespeare replied.
“And some of your best clothes, it seems.”
“Aye, but that is of no consequence. What plagues me beyond all measure is that if Braithwaite was right, then if the wheel had not come off the carriage and delayed me, I could have returned in time to save Catherine’s life.”
“Oh, no, Will! Do not blame yourself for that!” Elizabeth said.
“ Elizabeth is right, Will,” said Smythe. “You are no more at fault than she is for helping Catherine, despite what Middleton has said. ‘Twas Catherine’s own choice to do what she did, as ‘twas the killer’s choice to murder her. We should not hold ourselves responsible for what others choose to do of their own free will. We can but be responsible for our own actions. Each of us must suffer the slings and arrows of his own outrageous fortune.”
“Gad, Tuck, that was well put! I wish I had said that.”
“Never fear, I am sure you will.”
“Zounds! You dare unpack your wit at my expense? I have half a mind to pay you back in kind!”
“That would make you a halfwit, then.”
“Villain!”
“Clod!”
“Scurvy knave!” “Steaming turd!” “Rustic mountebank!” “Bad poet!”
“Oh, that was base! Where is my rapier?” “You do not own one.”
“Right. I must make amends at once and buy one at the fair so that I can call you out.”
“You might buy some clothes first, so that you are fit to go out.”
Elizabeth laughed, and then brought her hands up to her head. “Oh, Heaven, that I should find myself able to laugh at such a time as this! How vile must I be?”
“Without laughter, Elizabeth, we have no saving grace at all and must perforce go mad,” said Shakespeare.
“Thank you, Will. You are a kind soul.”
“I am a damned weary soul. This has been a very long and very trying day.”
“And I have been sent packing, to leave upon the morrow,” said Elizabeth. “ ‘Tis a sad thing to be no longer welcome in this house, and yet, ‘tis a house that no longer holds any pleasant memories for me. What do you suppose will happen now?”
Smythe shook his head. “I am not sure, Elizabeth. A great deal will depend on Middleton and what he chooses to do. And then do not forget that we still have not heard from Sir William, who does not yet know the full story of all that has transpired.”
“The fair was to last three days,” said Shakespeare. “Under the circumstances, however, I do not think that anyone would blame our host if he were to cancel the remainder of it.”
“True,” Smythe said, “but at the same time, in a peculiar sort of way, nothing has really changed since we first spoke with Master Middleton, has it? I mean that at the time, we had all, except Elizabeth, of course, believed Catherine to be dead. Well, she was not, but now, she is. We also believed her to have been murdered. She was not, but now, she has been. Middleton was grieving for his daughter, yet wanted to see justice done. And now, he is still grieving for his daugher, so… what has changed?”