The Princess of Denmark (8 page)

‘I should have heard those two villains coming up behind me.’

‘Your mind was elsewhere.’

‘It was, James, and that’s another thing that rankles. I’d made assignations. Three lovely women were expecting me to call. When I think of what I missed last night,’ he went on, ‘I shudder at my loss. If only I had not gone to the Dutch Churchyard with you, Nick.’

‘That was a separate venture,’ said Nicholas.

‘No,’ said Elias. ‘I was punished for my part in the capture.’

‘Then why was I left unharmed? For it was I who laid rough hands on the man we caught. If his friends wanted recompense, they would have come after me.’

‘I side with Nick,’ said Ingram. ‘His argument is sound.’

‘Then who gave me these injuries?’ demanded Elias, indicating his face. ‘Tell me that, James. Who attacked me?’

‘Enemies.’

‘I have no enemies.’

‘I can think of some.’

‘Who?’

‘A certain husband, for a start,’ said Ingram. ‘When you left us at the Black Horse last night, you told us that you first intended to visit a married woman whose husband was away from London.’

‘He was – he had business in Norwich.’

‘Perhaps he had qualms about leaving his wife behind.’

Elias cackled heartily. ‘With good cause!’

‘What better way to ensure his wife’s fidelity than to have her lover cudgelled by ruffians? You were found out, Owen.’

‘Never – I’ve had too much practise at the game.’

‘Well,
someone
took offence at you.’

‘It was those rogues who penned verses against strangers.’

‘They would not even know your name,’ contended Nicholas, ‘still less where to find you. There is another explanation here and, seeing the pair of you together, I began to spy it. Cast your minds back to the night of the fire at the Queen’s Head.’

‘I try not to think about that,’ said Ingram.

‘This is important, James. You and Owen were left alone with Will Dunmow, were you not?’

‘Yes. He took a room at the inn. We put him to bed. After we left him there, I went straight back to my lodging.’

‘I did not,’ said Elias with a grin. ‘Beth’s husband was away from the city that night as well.’

‘The fact is,’ said Nicholas, ‘that you were the last people to see him alive. Owen confessed as much to Anthony Rooker.’

‘Why should I deny it? We did nothing wrong.’

‘You did in the landlord’s eyes.’

‘Ignore that scurvy knave.’

‘He believes that you left the candle burning there.’

‘Owen snuffed it out,’ said Ingram. ‘I saw him.’

‘I’m sure that you did but the landlord does not believe you. It’s possible that Will Dunmow’s father might not believe you either.’

‘What does he have to do with this?’

‘Everything,’ said Nicholas. ‘His only son is sent to London on his behalf and he dies in a fire. Any father would want to know how.’

‘He would have listened to Master Rooker’s report.’

‘Yes,’ said Elias. ‘The father did not even come anywhere near us. Anthony Rooker travelled to York and delivered Will’s body. He must have been buried some time ago.’

‘Grief plays strange tricks on a man’s mind.’

‘What do you mean, Nick?’

‘Only this – the father might have been moved to rage. Think how he must have felt when he looked inside the coffin.’

‘I warned him against doing that through Master Rooker.’

‘What father would heed such advice?’ asked Nicholas. ‘I know that I would not. It was a terrible sight to behold. It must have filled him with blind anger. Will told you that his father could be violent.’

‘He had no reason to use violence against Owen,’ said Ingram. ‘We
helped
his son. We looked after him.’

‘You both know that, James – he does not. All that the father has been told is that his son got drunk in the company of actors, and that you were the two people who caroused with him to the very end. My suspicion is that the father will be deeply hurt, bereaved and desperate for someone to blame.’

‘Will was the true culprit,’ said Elias sadly. ‘There’s no other explanation. He must have started the fire with that pipe of his.’

‘His father may not accept that. He will blame you.’

‘Even though we took such care of his son?’

‘What he knows is that a group of people got his son so completely drunk that Will had to be put to bed. The only details he will have came from Master Rooker – and where did
he
get them from?’

‘Me,’ said Elias.

‘So yours is the name he will recognise,’ said Nicholas. ‘From everything I’ve heard about the father, he does not sound as if he would let such a serious matter pass lightly. According to Will, he was strict, unloving and possessed of a temper.’ As the sky darkened even more above him, he reached his conclusion. ‘I begin to wonder if you were not the victim of that temper, Owen.’

‘Denmark!’ exclaimed Isaac Dunmow.

‘That’s what I’ve been told. They sailed this very morning.’

‘And did Owen Elias go with them?’

‘I should think so.’

‘Death and damnation!’

When he called at the inn, Dunmow found the landlord in the yard, staring in consternation at the huge gap where part of his premises had once stood. Alexander Marwood was still exercised by the thought that he was on the brink of ruin. With the loss of his stables, he could no longer keep horses at livery for travellers who came to the city. Since eight rooms had been destroyed, the number of guests who could stay at the Queen’s Head had been almost halved. With no plays being performed in the yard, a major part of his custom had vanished. As a result, the steady flow of income had turned into a mere trickle. It made him quiver with apprehension and a nervous twitch attacked three distinct areas of his face so that his eyelid, his cheek and his lip trembled uncontrollably in unison.

‘Which part of Denmark?’ asked Dunmow.

‘How should I know?’ replied Marwood brusquely.

‘They played here, man. They ate and they certainly drank at your inn. Since you are so close to Westfield’s Men, you must know where and why they went across the sea.’

‘I was just glad to be rid of them, sir.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Because they burnt down my inn.’

‘Yes,’ said Dunmow, eyes glinting beneath the beetle brows. ‘My son was inside it at the time. It’s important that I should
find out everything I can about the actors who got him drunk that night. Now, tell me why they sailed away this morning.’

‘Their patron is to be married in Denmark,’ said Marwood, discomfited by the man’s intense glare. ‘Westfield’s Men are to perform plays to celebrate the event. Nicholas Bracewell, their book holder, did tell me the name of the place where the wedding would be held but it has gone quite out of my mind.’

‘Was it Copenhagen?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Roskilde, the old capital?’

‘It was not that either.’

‘Elsinore, perhaps?’

‘Yes,’ said Marwood, scratching his mottled pate, ‘that sounds more like it. You impress me, Master Dunmow. I could not even tell you where Denmark is yet you actually know the names of its towns.’

‘I’m a merchant,’ said the other, ‘and I’ve traded with a number of Baltic towns in the past. As it happens, Elsinore is one of them. In my younger days, I went there. It’s an agreeable place.’

‘Then I hope Westfield’s Men stay there for ever.’

‘Do you detest them so much?’

‘They’ve made my life a misery, sir,’ said the landlord. ‘They bring the riff-raff of London into my yard, the very sweepings of the city. The actors show me no respect and they hound every wench I employ here. They are lewd and ungovernable.’

‘Tell me about the night of the fire.’

‘It pains me to recall it.’

‘Please,’ said Dunmow. ‘I must know the truth.’

‘Then you shall have it. Your son watched
The Italian Tragedy
here and was so moved by the performance that he came into my taproom and opened his purse to the company. They drank deep, as actors always will. There was merriment into the night. When your son began to fade, only two of them remained.’

‘Owen Elias was one of them.’

‘The worst offender, Master Dunmow. It was he who kept urging your son to drink and drink. And it was he, I believe, who left a lighted candle in the room. It was knocked over in the night and set the bed sheets on fire.’

‘And poor Will was unable to escape.’

‘I doubt if he even woke up.’

‘Why did you not bring charges against Elias?’

‘Because nothing could ever be proved.’

Isaac Dunmow had heard enough. The rage that had been simmering inside him flared up again. In his febrile mind, one of the actors was chiefly responsible for the death of his son and would be held to account for it, but the whole company was at fault as well. The merchant wanted to punish Westfield’s Men in some way.

‘What will happen to them when they return?’ he asked.

‘They’ll not play here again, I know that.’

‘Where will they go?’

‘Nowhere, sir,’ said Marwood, ‘for the theatres already have their companies and no other inn would take Westfield’s Men. They will be homeless.’

‘So they will try to get into your good graces again.’

‘Most assuredly. They will set Nicholas Bracewell onto me, the only honourable man among them.’

‘And what will he do?’

‘He has a most persuasive tongue and has charmed me into letting them stay here before. I’ll not make that error again,’ said the landlord rancorously. ‘I’d sooner starve than have them here again.’

Dunmow raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘There’s no danger of starvation, surely?’

‘There is. Our custom has shrunk almost to nothing. While we flounder, our rivals take over our trade.’

‘When your inn is rebuilt, that will soon change.’

‘How can I rebuild it when I lack the funds to do so?’

‘Borrow the money.’

‘But I’ll then have to pay it back,’ said Marwood, his voice filled with pathos. ‘That’s the dilemma I face, sir. With all their faults – and they are far too many to name – Westfield’s Men do bring in most of our custom. If I borrow heavily, the only way I can repay the loan is by letting the company return and I’ll not do that.’

‘Supposing that the money came from elsewhere?’ said Dunmow thoughtfully. ‘Suppose, for instance, a benefactor helped you to rebuild the Queen’s Head.’

‘Such people do not exist.’

‘You might be talking to one such.’

The landlord was startled. ‘
You
, Master Dunmow?’

‘Possibly. I’m a rich man.’

‘But what interest would you have in helping us out?’

‘I’d make that clear in the terms of the contract.’

‘I do not follow.’

‘It’s quite simple,’ said Dunmow levelly. ‘I will consider helping you on strict conditions. First, that the bedchamber
in which my son died is to be rebuilt and named the Will Dunmow Room.’

‘I accede to that request at once.’

‘Secondly – and I’ll have this in writing so that there can be no equivocation – that Westfield’s Men will never again be allowed to perform in your yard. It was their play that lured my son here and their actors who contrived to get him drunk afterwards. Those crimes must be answered for,’ he went on, pounding a fist into his other palm. ‘I want the whole devilish company forced out of London forever.’

The squall was not especially severe but it seemed so to those who were not sailors. Crowded together below deck, the actors sat in disconsolate groups, clutching their stomachs and wondering whose turn it would be to use the wooden bucket next. As the
Cormorant
bucked and tilted, they began to have second thoughts about the wisdom of the whole enterprise. Barnaby Gill acted as a self-appointed spokesman for the suffering passengers.

‘This is nought but a floating coffin,’ he protested. ‘Each and every one of us is doomed.’

‘It’s not a violent storm,’ said Nicholas Bracewell soothingly. ‘I think we’ll come through it without any mishap.’

‘But we are all sick to our stomachs.’

‘That’s because you have no sea legs as yet.’

‘I do not
want
any sea legs,’ said Gill, shifting his position to gain a modicum of relief. ‘What I want is dry land on which I can walk in perfect safety. I don’t wish to be tossed around like this.’ There was a collective moan of
agreement. ‘We should never have accepted the invitation to go to Denmark in the first place.’

‘You were all in favour of it at first, Barnaby.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Owen Elias, slumped opposite him. ‘You heard about those pretty Danish boys in Elsinore. And you never miss a chance to disport yourself in front of royalty.’

Gill was livid. ‘I do not disport myself, Owen,’ he said with withering contempt. ‘I leave that to underlings like you. I dance, I sing and I act without compare.’

‘Then give us one of your jigs to cheer us up.’

‘I could not stand, let alone dance. The floor would keep moving under my feet.’ Gill pointed at Nicholas. ‘I hold you responsible for this,’ he said accusingly. ‘You arranged our passages. Why on earth did you put us aboard this disgusting cargo vessel?’

‘Because it was the first ship sailing for Denmark,’ replied Nicholas, ‘and that’s what Lord Westfield requested. Unlike you, he is willing to endure a little discomfort in order to reach our destination.’

‘But he’s doing so in the privacy of a cabin. That’s a form of luxury compared to this. Lawrence is in there with him and so is Master Harling.’ He sat up indignantly. ‘I should be in there as well.’

‘There was no room, Barnaby.’

‘Only because your friend took my place.’

‘Anne was invited to share the cabin by Lord Westfield.’

‘Quite rightly,’ affirmed Elias. ‘Ladies have precedence in situations like this. It will be uncomfortable enough in the cabin. I’d hate for Anne to have to put up with our misery.’

The ship suddenly pitched and rolled, hurling them about and making them groan even more. Cargo occupied most of the space below deck. They inhabited the small, dank, draughty, fetid area that was left, sitting on wet floorboards and listening to the waves that pounded the side of the ship so mercilessly. Rain lashed the deck above their heads and the wind howled with ever-increasing stridency. Blown to and fro, the ship’s bell clanged ceaselessly. The loud yells of the crew added to the cacophony. Diving forward, George Dart made use of the bucket for the third time.