‘Not any more, I assure you. A month in this antechamber of Hell has made me see the error of my ways. You’ll have no trouble from me, Master Bracewell.’
‘If I do,’ warned Nicholas, ‘you’ll answer to me.’
‘I give you a solemn vow.’
‘You are to do as you’re bidden without complaint or hesitation.’
‘All this, I accept willingly.’
‘Then let me add one thing more. I’ll hear no carping with regard to Master Gill. We hold him in high esteem. You merely fill his place until his leg has mended. You gain from his misfortune,’ Nicholas pointed out. ‘That should make you thankful.’
‘Oh, it does,’ said Mussett solemnly. ‘I’ll even mention his name in my prayers. By all, this is wonderful! I never thought to get the chance to work with Westfield’s Men,’ he continued with growing excitement. ‘They are the finest troupe in London. Lawrence Firethorn is a titan among actors and there’s no better playwright alive than Edmund Hoode. Truly, it’s an honour to be invited to join you.’
Nicholas was stern. ‘Do not abuse that honour.’
‘I’d not dream of it.’
‘My eyes will be on you at all times, remember.’
‘They’ll see nothing untoward.’
‘One more thing. Not all the members of the company share my faith in Giddy Mussett,’ said Nicholas. ‘They know your history too well. Prove them wrong. Show them that you can give of your best on stage and behave like a gentleman off it.’
‘Have no doubts on that score,’ urged Mussett, taking his hands to squeeze them. Tears welled in his eyes. ‘You are my deliverer, good sir. I never thought to see an open road again, leave alone ride along it as one of Westfield’s Men. This news restores my faith in God for it can be nothing less than Divine intervention. I swear to you that you’ll have no cause to rue the day that you employed Giddy Mussett. I’ll touch neither drink nor women and, whenever I meet provocation, I’ll turn the other cheek. Will this content you?’
‘Indeed, it will,’ said Nicholas, taking him by the shoulders. ‘Welcome to the company, Giddy. I’ll need to conduct some business with the prison sergeant then we’ll have you out of here for good.’
Tears of gratitude rolled down Mussett’s cheeks and he adopted a pose of total submission. After giving him a warm smile, Nicholas let himself out of the room. The moment his visitor left, Mussett’s expression changed. The tears gave way to a sly smile and the ingratiating manner to a surging confidence.
‘Give up drink and lechery?’ he said with distaste. ‘Never!’
Chapter Four
Lawrence Firethorn had always flattered himself that he had the loudest voice in London so he was both surprised and disconcerted when there was such a strong challenge to his primacy. In volume and intensity, Barnaby Gill’s exclamation was truly impressive.
‘Giddy Mussett!’ he roared.
‘Calm down, Barnaby,’ said Firethorn. ‘You’ll do yourself an injury.’
‘I’ll do Mussett an injury if he dares to usurp me. I’ll tear that miserable impostor limb from limb then set his head upon a spike for all to see. How can you even think of such a stratagem, Lawrence?’ he demanded. ‘I’d never yield my place to him.’
‘You’re in no position to hold it yourself.’
‘Then promote someone from within the company.’
‘Who?’
‘James Ingram, Rowland Carr, even Owen here.’
‘None of us can hold a candle to you, Barnaby,’ said Elias.
‘I’d sooner George Dart acted as my shadow than let Giddy Musett within a mile of any role I call my own. God’s blood!’ howled Gill, unwisely smacking his injured leg for emphasis and producing a spasm of pain. ‘Why treat me so barbarously?’
Firethorn looked across at Elias but said nothing. The two men had called at Gill’s lodging to enquire after his health and explain that they would be leaving on tour the following day. They kept the mention of Mussett’s name until the end. It was received with frothing disbelief.
‘It’s a veritable nightmare,’ said Gill, staring ahead with widened eyes. ‘There is only one man in the world whom I detest utterly and you choose him to supplant me.’
‘He merely helps us out of a dilemma,’ said Firethorn.
‘And what about me?’
‘We hoped that this news might please you, Barnaby.’
‘Please me!’ spluttered Gill. ‘Nothing is more certain to displease me. Imagine how you would feel if we replaced Lawrence Firethorn with Alexander Marwood.’
‘Heaven forbid!’
‘This is far more than a mere insult. It’s a betrayal of everything that I have done for Westfield’s Men. Do you not understand that?’
‘What we understand,’ said Firethorn with a soothing smile, ‘is that we are about to take the wonder of our work to various parts of Kent. Our reputation goes before us, Barnaby, and it rests just as much on our comic skills as upon anything else. How can we keep that reputation if we have no clown?’
‘By finding someone else,’ said Gill, ‘but it does not have to be Giddy Mussett.’
‘I fear that it does.’
‘Nobody else is available,’ explained Elias. ‘Clowns of your quality are in short supply, Barnaby. And plays such as Mirth and Madness, Love’s Sacrifice or even A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady would have been impossible without a capable substitute for you. We scratched our heads for ages until Nick Bracewell came up with the answer.’
Gill was rancorous. ‘Yes, I thought this might be Nick’s doing.’
‘He was the person who tracked Giddy Mussett down for us.’
‘In which leaping house did he find him?’
‘None, Barnaby. Giddy was keeping his art in repair by entertaining the other prisoners in King’s Bench Prison. An unpaid debt led to his arrest.’
‘Then how is he able to take up your invitation?’ When both visitors looked uneasy, Gill’s ire reached a new peak. ‘You discharged his debt?’ he asked with incredulity. ‘When that mangy cur is finally locked in his rightful kennel, you actually pay money to get him out again? This beggars belief! Do the other sharers know that you plundered our limited funds in order to bring about this outrage? That you dared to replace me with a fornicating drunkard who’ll brawl his way across Kent with you?’
Firethorn was shamefaced. He had anticipated a hostile response when he broke the news to Gill and he had taken Elias with him in order to deflect some of the anger that would be inevitably produced. What he had not expected was the white-faced rage that greeted his announcement. Propped up on his bed, Gill seemed to forget that he was an invalid and waved his arms violently whenever he spoke. In the confined space of the room, the clown’s fury was markedly increased and he seemed beyond the reach of any reason. Firethorn sought to check the verbal assault by changing the subject.
‘His name was Fortunatus Hope,’ he said.
‘Whose name?’ grunted Gill.
‘The man who was stabbed to death at the Queen’s Head. Nick spoke to our patron about him though he got precious little help. Lord Westfield showed scant sympathy for his friend. He was more concerned about his own skin.’
‘Be fair, Lawrence,’ said Elias. ‘Master Hope was a newcomer to his circle. Lord Westfield did promise to find out more about the fellow. Nick is due to see our patron again to learn what information has come to light.’
Gill curled a lip. ‘Nick Bracewell has been busy,’ he sneered. ‘Searching the prisons of London for Giddy Mussett and poking his nose into a murder that is of no concern at all to him.’
‘It’s of concern to him and to all of us,’ asserted Firethorn.
‘I’ll not lose sleep over it.’
‘You should, Barnaby.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you were directly involved in the crime.’
‘How could I be, Lawrence? I was myself a victim.’
‘We all were,’ said Firethorn. ‘I did not realise it until Nick Bracewell pointed it out to me. The affray was not simply a means of wrecking our performance. It caused a commotion that served to hide a foul murder. The villain who killed Fortunatus Hope was in league with the devils who ruined our play.’