‘Any one of a dozen people, Barnaby. You have hardly endeared yourself to us since we left London. Be more tolerant.’
‘I’ll not tolerate this! Giddy deserves to be arrested for this.’
‘Why not report me to the Privy Council?’ taunted Mussett.
Even Firethorn’s booming command was unable to stem their mirth this time. It was so humiliating for Gill that Nicholas took pity on him. Moving across to him, he slipped an arm around his waist and almost carried him to a seat, lowering him carefully down. He looked around the table with a stern eye and the laughter gradually died away.
‘If you have finished,’ he said quietly, ‘there is nothing to detain you. When Master Gill has been allowed the privilege of eating his food in peace, he’ll join you and we can all set off.’
They took their cue and rose from the table. Nicholas’s gentle rebuke achieved more than Firethorn’s angry yell. Most of those who withdrew to the yard were slightly ashamed. The apprentices were completely cowed. Accustomed to being bawled at by Firethorn, they no longer feared his rage quite so much. The last thing they wanted to do, however, was to arouse Nicholas’s displeasure. When the others had dispersed, Mussett remained behind, standing at the end of the table like a prisoner before a magistrate. Gill scowled at him and Firethorn glowered. Nicholas then came to the defence of the clown.
‘I think you are mistaken,’ he said. ‘Giddy could not have been the culprit.’
‘He must have been!’ cried Gill. ‘Who else would stoop so low?’
Mussett gave a shrug. ‘Not me, Barnaby.’
‘That’s an arrant lie.’
‘Giddy is speaking the truth,’ said Nicholas. ‘I left here at the same time as you and found him asleep upstairs. It was impossible for him to steal away and play that trick on you. I’d surely have heard him leave.’
‘There’s your answer, Barnaby,’ said Firethorn, relieved to hear that Mussett was, after all, innocent of the charge. ‘It must have been one of the others. Or someone quite outside the company. Have you considered that?’
‘No,’ retorted Gill. ‘It was a vindictive act. I accuse Giddy.’
‘Then you accuse him wrongly,’ said Nicholas. ‘How could he be in two places at the same time? I slept near the door. Anyone going out or coming into the room would have woken me as they passed.’
‘In that case, he suborned someone else to do the deed.’
‘I doubt that. Who would take on such an office? None that I could name. They hold you in high esteem. Why should they lend themselves to a jest like this?’
‘On a promise of reward.’
‘Then it came not from me,’ said Mussett. ‘My purse is empty. I had no money to ensnare an accomplice, Barnaby. Look elsewhere.’
‘Or dismiss the incident from your mind,’ recommended Nicholas.
‘Aye,’ said Firethorn. ‘That’s the best advice. Forget the whole business.’ He pointed to the platter of food. ‘And put some victuals inside you. We must be away.’
Gill was baffled. Until Nicholas had spoken up for him, he was convinced that Mussett had been responsible for the cruel jest. A doubt had now been put into his mind. It was confusing. Unable to gain retribution, he fumed in silence.
The road to Maidstone took them through some of the prettiest countryside in Kent. It was a fine day but a swirling wind sprung up to bring an occasional shiver to the little cavalcade. Bushes trembled, grass rippled in the fields and trees swayed to the rustling rhythm of their leaves. Clumps of wild flowers shook their petals in complaint. No sooner did a burst of bright sunshine pacify them than the wind strengthened to begin its mischief all over again. Expanses of woodland were interrupted by pasturage for cattle and horses, but the most common sight was acre upon acre of fruit trees, waving to the travellers as they passed. Hops, a new crop to most of them, were also grown, rising high above the hedges and fences that enclosed them. From time to time, they caught sight of a prodigy house, owned by some rich London merchant, or some vast aristocratic estate. Proximity to London made the county an attractive home for the wealthy.
Lawrence Firethorn rode at the head of his troupe like the captain of an army, chatting to Owen Elias, who rode beside him, about the first performance on their tour and wishing that they were not hampered by the presence of Barnaby Gill. Both men wore swords to deter any highwaymen from attack. Bringing up the rear was Edmund Hoode, a lone figure on a donkey, looking less like a member of a theatre company than a pilgrim on his way to a distant shrine. While others studied the changing landscape around them, Hoode’s mind was elsewhere, grappling with a scene in the new play that he was writing and wondering when and how he would find the time to commit his thoughts to paper.
Giddy Mussett again diverted the occupants of the first wagon with his jests and anecdotes, endearing himself even more and winning their confidence completely. He then plied them with questions about the company, wanting to know as much detail as he could about the affray at the Queen’s Head. They had been trundling along for an hour when he moved to sit on the driver’s seat beside Nicholas Bracewell.
‘Let me take a turn with the reins, Nick,’ he volunteered.
‘Have you handled two horses before?’
‘Two and four, Nick. Here, let me show you.’
Nicholas gave him the reins, happy to have a rest from keeping the wagon on a fairly straight line while avoiding as many potholes as he could. Mussett was as good as his word. He was an experienced coachman who handled the horses well. Nicholas was able to relax. He was also glad of the opportunity to speak to Mussett alone.
‘Who did play that trick on Master Gill last night?’ he asked.
‘I wish I knew.’
‘I hope that you were not involved, Giddy.’
‘How could I be?’ asked Mussett. ‘You saw me fast asleep.’
‘I saw what I thought was you but the room was fairly dark.’
‘It was me, Nick, I dare swear it. I was too tired to pester Barnaby though I would love to shake the hand of the man who did lock him in the privy.’
‘It was nobody in the company. Fear would hold them back.’
‘Fear of being caught?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘and fear of facing me afterwards. They know what I would say. We are bound together in this enterprise. Good fellowship is the only thing that will carry us through. Fall out with each other and we are doomed.’
‘I’ve never fallen out with anyone in my life,’ attested Mussett.
‘What about Conway’s Men?’
‘Ah, that was different, Nick. They fell out with me.’
Nicholas smiled but he still had nagging doubts about the clown. Though he had settled into the company with apparent ease, Mussett needed to be watched. There was an unpredictability about him that was worrying. It stopped Nicholas from trusting him too much. Mussett tugged on the reins to guide the horses around a large dip ahead of them then he threw a glance at his companion.
‘Dick Honeydew was telling me of the affray,’ he said.
‘It robbed us of ten days at the Queen’s Head.’
‘Was there no way to quell it?’
‘None,’ said Nick. ‘It caught us unawares.’
‘I’ve been on stage myself when fighting broke out and I always used it to my advantage. The last time it happened,’ recalled Mussett, ‘I tossed a bucket of water over the men who were brawling and dampened their spirits. It amused the other spectators and brought to fight to an end. Laughter is the best way to control wayward lads. Could not Barnaby have contrived it somehow?’
‘He had no chance, Giddy. They mounted the stage and assaulted him.’
Mussett smirked. ‘Was his performance that bad?’
‘No,’ chided Nicholas, ‘and you know it only too well, Giddy. The fault lay not with him nor anyone else in the company. We were up against a dozen or so, paid to halt our play and drilled in the best way to do it. They caused such a disturbance that the whole yard was in turmoil. We were lost.’