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‘And miss the chance of a brawl?’

‘They’ll be fools if they resist, Owen. We outnumber them easily.’

‘I want to measure my sword with the killer himself. Will he be aboard?’

‘I think it very likely, especially if Lawrence is on the ship. Sebastian would not be able to handle him alone. He’d need a strong man to do that. My guess is that we’ll find both master and assassin on the Mermaid.’

‘Why would they take Lawrence with them?’

‘To get him out of the way.’

‘Would it not be easier simply to kill him?’

‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘but I feel that Sebastian will stay his hand. He’s not entirely beyond the reach of friendship and he’ll not decree another murder for the sake of it. He’s a devout man. Sin must ever be weighed against necessity.’

‘Necessity?’ echoed Elias. ‘What necessity was there to have a harmless clown like Giddy Mussett stabbed in the back?’

‘He was not harmless to Sebastian, or to his daughter.’

‘She, at least, does not have Giddy’s blood on her hands.’

‘No,’ agreed Nicholas, ‘that’s true. Sebastian kept her innocent of that. What she will think when she learns the truth about her father, I do not know, but it might shake her faith in the Old Religion.’

The Mercury dipped and rose in the swirling water, gaining on the other ship with every minute. As they drew even closer, Nicholas and Elias caught a glimpse of a lone passenger, standing in the stern of the Mermaid and watching them with apprehension.

It was Sebastian Frant.

Lawrence Firethorn was in agony. Still tied up below deck, he was suffering pain in every limb and a pounding headache. The gag made breathing difficult and the rope was cutting into his wrists. Wearied by loss of sleep, and by the beating he had taken, he had no strength left to test his bonds any more. But the mental anguish was far worse than any physical torture. He worried for himself, for his family and for his beloved company. Not knowing what lay ahead for him, he tormented himself by imagining all sorts of hideous deaths. It was his wife and children who occupied his mind most. How would they feel when they learnt that he had vanished across the sea? How would Margery cope on her own? Who would bear the news to her? What would happen to their home in Shoreditch?

He was still wallowing in remorse when he heard distant yells above his head. They did not sound like orders being barked to the crew. One voice was much closer than the other, though the second seemed to come nearer with the passage of time. Firethorn strained his ears to catch what was being said but the noise of the waves and the creaking of the ship made it impossible. There was a long wait, followed by a resounding thud that made the whole vessel shudder. At first, Firethorn thought that they had been rammed and that the Mermaid would be holed below the water line. Alone of the people aboard, he would be unable to save himself as the ship sank to the bottom of the sea. Seized by panic, he began to recite his prayers to himself. But no water came gushing in to claim his life and no cries of alarm were heard from the crew. Firethorn gave thanks to God for sparing him the horror of being drowned.

There was another long wait. A mixture of strange sounds came down to him but they only confused Firethorn. He had no idea what had happened beyond the fact that the ship did not seem to be maintaining the same speed any more. Hurried feet then came down the wooden steps. The next moment, someone stood behind Firethorn with an arm under his chin to pull back his head. The cold blade of a dagger was held against his throat. He braced himself for the murderous incision but he was spared yet again. Other people came down into the hold and approached him. Against all the odds, he heard a voice that he recognised and loved.

‘Leave go of him, Sebastian,’ warned Nicholas Bracewell.

‘Keep away!’ replied Frant, tightening his grip on Firethorn.

‘There’s no escape.’

‘Take one more step and I slit his throat.’

‘Why? What has Lawrence ever done to you?’

‘He got in the way.’

‘Was that Giddy Mussett’s crime as well?’ asked Nicholas, his voice deliberately calm. ‘Did he get in the way?’

‘His death was forced upon me.’

‘I think that I can guess why.’

‘I doubt that,’ said Frant.

‘Then perhaps I should tell you that we called at your house earlier on. We spoke to Thomasina and admired the furniture in your parlour. Some similar pieces are stored down here in the hold, are they not? Your daughter told us why.’

‘Thomasina would never do that.’

‘She was too proud of her religion to deny it.’

‘Give me the dagger, Sebastian,’ said Owen Elias, ‘or I’ll take it from you.’

‘Not if you wish Lawrence to live.’ Frant’s hand shook and the blade of the dagger drew a trickle of blood from Firethorn’s throat. ‘Stay back, Owen. If you value his life, keep your distance.’

‘That’s sensible advice,’ agreed Nicholas. ‘Leave him be, Owen.’

The Welshman was perplexed. ‘Allow him to get away with this?’

‘Sebastian will get away with nothing.’

‘That depends on what kind of bargain we strike,’ said Frant.

‘You are hardly in a position to strike any kind of bargain,’ said Nicholas quietly. ‘The ship has been boarded and we’ve a dozen armed men on deck. Do you think that you can defy us all, Sebastian?’

‘I’ll trade my safety for Lawrence’s life.’

Elias was scornful. ‘Your safety! You have no safety.’

‘Let me handle this, Owen,’ said Nicholas. ‘My only concern is with Lawrence’s safety. We should rejoice that he’s still alive. Sebastian deserves our thanks for that.’

‘He’ll get no thanks from me.’

Nicholas turned to Frant again. ‘Forgive him, Sebastian. He does not understand. There’s only one reason why you spared Lawrence and it was not because you needed him as a means of bargaining, was it?’

‘That no longer matters,’ said Frant, desperation making his voice hoarse.

‘I believe that it does.’

‘Lawrence’s life is in your hands, Nick.’

‘And what about Thomasina’s life?’ asked Nicholas. ‘Have you forgotten her? It’s a cruel father who’d save his own skin and leave his daughter to suffer the consequences of his crimes. I refuse to believe that Sebastian Frant is that callous.’ He took a step closer. ‘Thomasina loves you. She looks up to you. At least, she did until she heard that you were involved in murder and kidnap. Are you going to make her even more ashamed by taking yet another life?’

‘Be quiet!’ howled Frant, wrestling with his conscience.

‘Put the dagger aside, Sebastian.’

‘No!’

‘Put it aside,’ said Nicholas softly, moving in closer. ‘We both know that you could not kill Lawrence. You’ve too much compassion in you for that. You simply wanted him out of the way so that Westfield’s Men could not continue. Nothing will be served by his death now.’ He held out a hand. ‘Let me have the dagger, Sebastian.’

‘Stay back!’ shouted Frant, pointing the weapon at him.

‘Would you kill me as well? Then do so,’ invited Nicholas, spreading his arms and offering his chest. ‘Come on, Sebastian. We know that you can hire an assassin. Let’s see if you have the courage to use that dagger yourself.’ He took another step forward. ‘We were friends once. End that friendship now, if you must.’

Frant raised the dagger to strike then lost his nerve. Opening his hand, he let it drop with a clatter to the floor. Nicholas was on him in an instant, pinioning him so that he could not move. Elias moved with equal speed to cut through Firethorn’s bonds. The actor-manager tore off the gag and the blindfold. He blinked up at Frant.

You had this done to me, Sebastian?’ he asked. ‘I’ll strangle you!’

‘No,’ said Nicholas, using his body to protect Frant. ‘We’ll take him back to face the rigour of the law.’