‘Did you apprise him of that fact that we mean to quit the city forthwith?’
‘I did. He thought it a sensible move.’
‘What of our visit to Dover?’ asked Hoode.
‘Lord Westfield still intends to be there when we play at the castle. He’ll send word to Lord Cobham that we’ll reach Dover earlier than expected.’ Nicholas tasted his own wine. ‘When he has to advise a distinguished friend of a change of date, our patron will reach willingly for his pen. But he is less ready to pass on news of a murder to the family of Fortunatus Hope. I’d have thought it simple courtesy.’
‘Lord Westfield lends us his name, Nick,’ said Firethorn briskly. ‘Do not look for much else from him. He’s a man of strict limitations. But enough of him,’ he went on, slapping his thigh. ‘The decision is made. We take to the road the day after tomorrow. All that we need to debate is whom we take with us.’
‘As large a company as we may,’ said Elias.
‘A number of the hired men will have to be released, Owen.’
‘It seems an act of cruelty to discard them.’
Firethorn shrugged. ‘Cruel but necessary. Some of the musicians will have to stand down as well. We can only take musicians who can also carry parts, or actors who can play an instrument.’
Hoode finished eating his cake. ‘Our main concern is how to replace Barnaby,’ he said, brushing a few crumbs from his arm. ‘Nobody can match his talent but we must find a substitute who will not let us down.’
‘Is there nobody within the company?’ wondered Elias.
‘None, Owen. You can sing as well as Barnaby but I mean no disrespect when I say that you could never emulate his other skills. We must perforce look outside Westfield’s Men.’
‘What is the point?’ asked Firethorn. ‘The best clowns are already employed elsewhere. We could hardly lure one away from Banbury’s Men. Giles Randolph would not oblige us with the time of day, still less with one of his comedians. We’d meet the same rebuff from Havelock’s Men. They’d sooner part with their teeth than help us.’
Elias frowned. ‘There must be someone who meets our needs.’
‘There is,’ said Nicholas, ‘and he is not attached to any company.’
‘Who is this paragon?’
‘Gideon Mussett.’
‘Why, of course!’ said Elias, jumping to his feet. ‘The very man. Giddy Mussett can make an audience laugh until they sue for relief. He is the one clown who could fully disguise the absence of Barnaby Gill.’ His face clouded. ‘Yet, wait awhile. I thought that Giddy was contracted to Conway’s Men.’
‘He was,’ agreed Nicholas, ‘but it seems that he fell out with them.’
‘Giddy Mussett falls out with everyone,’ said Firethorn ruefully. ‘Nobody can doubt his talent but it’s allied to every vice in the calendar.’
‘Barnaby is not exactly a saint,’ Elias noted, resuming his seat.
‘Perhaps not, Owen, but neither does he drink himself into a stupor, pick a fight on the slightest provocation and frequent the stews of Bankside.’
‘If all who love fine ale and fine women are to be excluded, then half of us will stay in London. On those two accounts,’ admitted the Welshman, ‘Giddy Mussett is no worse than Owen Elias. I, too, am cursed with hot blood and find it difficult to walk away from a quarrel.’
‘Mussett incites quarrels for the sake of it.’
‘Not if he is kept under control,’ argued Nicholas.
‘No theatre company has so far managed that feat.’
‘I believe it to be within our compass.’
Hoode was curious. ‘Why do you say that, Nick?’
‘For two main reasons. The first is simple gratitude. Every actor would rather be working than kicking his heels. Giddy Mussett is no exception. He would make an effort to show his gratitude to us. The second reason,’ said Nicholas, ‘is that we would be much more vigilant than some of our rivals. Let him out of our sight and he would surely go astray. Bind him to a contract of good behaviour and we may have a different result.’
‘It sounds as if it is at least worth trying.’
‘I believe so, Edmund.’
‘So do I,’ added Elias. ‘Giddy is our man.’
Firethorn was sceptical. ‘Something tells me that we are courting disaster here.’
‘Not if we lay down strict rules,’ said Nicholas.
‘Mussett would not recognise a rule if it recited the Catechism at him. Besides, you are forgetting something, Nick. We seek a substitute for Barnaby and he would never allow Giddy Mussett to take his place. They are sworn enemies.’
‘Need we tell Barnaby?’ asked Elias.
‘He would never forgive us if we did not.’
‘True.’
‘In any case,’ said Firethorn, ‘we might stay silent but the truth would surely get back to him by some means. Giddy Mussett would make certain that it did. Nothing would content him more than to profit at Barnaby’s expense. He’d crow like chanticleer and do his best to oust him altogether.’
‘That would never happen,’ said Nicholas. ‘Mussett would only be engaged as a hired man for as long as we required. It would be made clear at the start.’
‘I side with Nick,’ decided Hoode. ‘Giddy Mussett is our only hope.’
‘He gets my vote as well,’ said Elias.
‘Give him your blessing, Lawrence.’
Firethorn downed the remainder of his wine in one loud gulp and pondered. Nicholas exchanged glances with the other two then waited for a response from the man with the real power in the company. Unless Firethorn could be persuaded, they would have to look elsewhere for a clown.
‘I do not like the idea,’ said Firethorn at length.
Nicholas was blunt. ‘Suggest a better one and we’ll gladly accept it.’
‘Mussett is too troublesome a bedfellow.’
‘Do not be misled by his reputation.’
‘And what of Barnaby? He’ll be mortified.’
‘He’ll come to see that we made the only choice possible,’ said Nicholas. ‘Granted, the two men share an intense hatred but only because they are keen rivals. Beneath their hatred is a deep respect for each other’s skills.’
‘That will only make Barnaby green with envy.’
‘Which would you rather have, Lawrence?’ asked Hoode. ‘A green and resentful Barnaby or a pallid clown who makes a mockery of every comedy that we stage?’
‘Edmund is right,’ said Elias. ‘We are in a quandary and there is but one way out of it. Bear this in mind. We make the decision — not Barnaby.’
Firethorn stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘Mussett is certainly a fine singer,’ he conceded, ‘and he is as vigorous as any man in a dance. Of his comic skills, there is no doubt. My worries concern his private habits.’
The Welshman chuckled. ‘We all have those, Lawrence.’
‘Employ the fellow and we may imperil the whole company.’
‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to take.’
‘There’s no risk if we keep Mussett on a tight rein,’ asserted Nicholas, wishing to bring the discussion to a close. ‘That will be my task. I’ll answer for our new clown.’
Firethorn was still unconvinced. ‘I have grave reservations,’ he confessed. ‘Besides, we do not even know that he will accept a place with us.’
‘Oh, I assure you that he’ll accept anything that’s offered to him.’
‘How can you be so confident of that, Nick?’
‘Because I took the liberty of finding out where he dwells at present,’ said Nicholas, ‘and he’ll be more than ready to leave his present abode. I’d stake my life on it. Giddy Mussett is languishing in prison.’
King’s Bench Prison stood on the main road south out of London, close to the Marshalsea, another of the city’s many jails. Stretching down through Southwark, the thoroughfare was noted for the number and size of its inns. There seemed to be a continuous line of hostelries with barely a few shops and houses to separate them. It meant that wretched prisoners were living cheek by jowl with places where pleasure and entertainment were in good supply. While they endured squalid conditions and meagre rations, customers nearby were celebrating their freedom by enjoying the comforts of the Bear, the George, the White Hart and all the other happy taverns that lined the route. Throughout the whole day, sounds of merriment drifted into the ears of the condemned and the convicted, reminding them of what they had lost and making their ordeal all the more difficult to bear.