The Counterfeit Crank (17 page)

‘Well, sir,’ nudged Beechcroft, irritably. ‘I do not have all day.’

‘How many people do you have inside Bridewell?’ said Nicholas.

‘That’s private information.’

‘I wondered if you had so many that you did not know who they all were.’

‘I know the name of each and every one,’ asserted Beechcroft. ‘When someone works for me, I learn everything I can about them so that I can get the best out of them.’

‘You assign the labour inside Bridewell, then?’

‘What is it to you?’

‘I wondered if you or Master Olgrave was in charge.’

‘If you must know, we share the responsibility. Ralph and I are partners.’

‘I’m told that you run the place with some efficiency,’ said Nicholas with feigned admiration. ‘It was not always the case under your predecessors. They often failed. You must be good administrators.’

‘We are,’ boasted the other. ‘We know how to turn a profit. Is that why you’ve come to me, Master Bracewell? You wish to do some business with us?’

‘That depends on how good your word is.’

‘It’s my bond, sir.’

‘Tell me about one Hywel Rees,’ said Nicholas, watching him carefully.

Beechcroft started. ‘Who?’

‘One of the inmates at Bridewell.’

‘The name is unfamiliar to me.’

‘A minute ago, you claimed to know everyone inside the institution.’

‘Yes,’ said Beechcroft, recovering his composure. ‘And it’s true. We did have a young man by the name of Hywel Rees with us but we discharged him days ago.’

‘May I know the reason?’

‘No, sir. You may not.’

‘But I need to track him down,’ said Nicholas, recalling the ruse that was used by Henry Cleaton’s clerk. ‘I’ve news that will mend his fortunes. Hywel Rees – if he be the man I seek – has been left some money by an uncle back in Wales.’

‘Some money?’

‘A substantial sum. I’m not at liberty to reveal the amount but it would buy the young man out of Bridewell or out of any debtor’s prison. I heard that he had fallen on hard times and was convicted of vagrancy. There’s a record of that, and of the fact that he was sent to you for correction.’

‘No man was more in need of it!’ said Beechcroft under his breath.

‘What happened to him when he left your care?’

‘He disappeared into the crowd.’

‘I find that hard to believe, Master Beechcroft.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Because I understand that he was imprisoned with a friend,’ said Nicholas. ‘The two were arrested together and
both were sent to you. Her name was Dorothea Tate. Do you remember her as well?’

‘Yes,’ replied Beechcroft. ‘She, too, was discharged recently.’

‘That seems odd, sir. When vagrants are committed to the workhouse, they expect to stay for some time. That’s what the court enjoins. Do you have the power to override a judicial decision and dispatch any inmate you choose?’

Beechcroft scowled. ‘Bridewell was not the right place for either of them.’

‘So you sent them on their way?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have any idea where Dorothea Tate may have gone?’

‘Back to the streets, I expect.’

‘That means you discharged a beggar so that she could return to begging. What is the point of that, Master Beechcroft?’

‘I’ll not be criticised in my own house,’ exploded the other, rounding on him. ‘Why have you come here and what do you really want?’

‘To learn the whereabouts of Hywel Rees. If you do not know where he is, it is possible that this girl does. Find her and we find the beneficiary of the will.’

‘You are wasting your time, sir.’

‘Am I?’

‘I do not know exactly where he went,’ said Beechcroft, ‘but I can tell you this about Hywel Rees. He’s not in London. Search as much as you like, you’ll not catch sight
of him again. He went back to Wales and we were glad to see the back of him.’

‘I can see that you remember him very well.’

‘He was a rebel. A stubborn, awkward, noisy fellow. A thorn in our sides. My partner and I can usually break the spirit of such rogues but he was too wilful for his own good. Hywel Rees had to go.’

‘Back to Wales?’

‘That’s where he said that he was heading.’

‘Without his closest friend, Dorothea Tate?’

‘For all I know, the girl went with him. Good riddance to both of them!’

‘Was she another rebel?’

‘To some degree. Strict obedience is the rule inside Bridewell.’

‘That depends on what people are asked to obey,’ said Nicholas, levelly. ‘Why did she flout your authority, Master Beechcroft? Can you answer that?’

‘No!’ retorted the other, crossing to open the door. ‘I’ve answered too many of your questions, as it is. Hywel Rees is no longer in London, I can assure you of that, so you look in vain.’ He pointed to the door. ‘Good day to you!’

‘Thank you for your help,’ said Nicholas with the faintest hint of sarcasm. ‘You’ve explained a lot to me. And as you say, your word is your bond. I can see now why Bridewell is in such safe hands.’ He crossed to the door. ‘Oh,’ he added, pausing beside the man. ‘You tell me that Hywel Rees went back to Wales.’

‘I’m certain of it.’

‘How would he get there? Do you think he might try to swim?’

Joseph Beechcroft turned pale and his mouth fell open. Nicholas had what he wanted. Before the other man could even speak, the visitor swept out of the house and left him in turmoil.

Lawrence Firethorn was in a vile mood that morning. Cantering into the yard of the Queen’s Head, he brought his horse to a halt and glowered at everyone within range. When he dismounted, he tossed the rein to an ostler and barked an order. It was not the choicest moment for Michael Grammaticus to approach him.

‘Good morrow, Master Firethorn,’ he said.

‘What do you want, sir?’

‘Is there any news of the play?’

Firethorn was brusque. ‘Nick has taken it to the scrivener and he is still copying it out. Forgive me, Michael, but I’ve far more important things to worry about than
The Siege of Troy
.’

‘But I was talking about the other play.’

‘What other play?’

‘
A Way to Content All Women.
Has Edmund not spoken to you about it?’

‘Oh, that,’ said Firethorn, irritably. ‘You believe that you can write a comedy.’

‘Only with your consent.’

‘Talk to Nick Bracewell. He knows my mind on this.’

‘Edmund is agreeable,’ said Grammaticus. ‘We spoke about it yesterday.’

‘Then why bother me? The only comment I can make on the play is that its title should be changed. Any man who believes that there’s a way to content all women,’ he said with rancour, ‘has never met my wife. Are you married, Michael?’

‘Only to my work.’

‘Then I envy you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I have learnt a grisly truth,’ he confided. ‘Women are
never
content. Give them what they want and they’ll put a new demand upon you. Grant them that and they’ll still not find contentment. Ignore their pretty faces and supple bodies. Eschew their blandishments. Women are no more than a breed of shrews and harpies.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I know it to be true.’

And on that sour note, Firethorn turned on his heel and strode out of the yard, leaving Grammaticus in his wake. No rehearsal had been called for that morning but a meeting of the sharers had been summoned. Only two of them were there when Firethorn stormed into the room that had been hired for the occasion. It gave him another excuse to lose his temper.

‘Saints and serpents!’ he howled. ‘Where
is
everybody?’

‘The others will soon be here, Lawrence,’ said Elias.

‘This is more than I can bear. I’ve lost our author, our book holder, our takings from
The Maid of the Mill,
and now I’ve lost most of the sharers. This is a conspiracy against me.’

‘Be patient a while.’

‘Patient!’ cried Firethorn. ‘Do not talk to me of patience, Owen. I’ve been far too patient with this company and look what happens. Everyone lets me down.’

‘What’s put you in this angry mood?’

‘I spy a woman’s hand here,’ said Gill, mischievously. ‘Or rather, the absence of it. Margery has not milked his epididymis this morning so Lawrence is full of bile.’

Firethorn glared at him. ‘Be quiet, you prancing pestilence!’

‘A rift in the marital lute?’ teased Gill.

‘Taunt me any more and I’ll make a rift in
your
lute.’

‘Calm down, Lawrence,’ said Elias. ‘We meet here as fellows.’

‘Then show me some fellowship. Nobody else in this company will do it.’

‘This is foolish talk. You know that we all love and respect you.’

Gill tossed his head. ‘Do not include me in that, Owen.’

‘You see?’ said Firethorn, pointing at him. ‘I’m surrounded by enemies.’

‘How can one man surround you?’ said Elias. ‘This is the raving of a madman. Now, sit beside us and wait
until the others come. A cup of Canary will improve your disposition.’ He patted the chair beside him. ‘Come now, Lawrence. Join us.’

Firethorn consented to sit down and sip from the cup of Canary wine that stood before him. He was sullen and distracted. Not wishing to provoke another outburst, the others said nothing. After a short while, James Ingram came into the room and greeted everyone with a pleasant smile.

‘Forgive this lateness,’ he said, lowering himself onto the settle beside Gill. ‘My horse cast a shoe and I had to take it to be shod.’

Firethorn glared at him. ‘Does the shoeing of a horse take precedence over the affairs of Westfield’s Men?’

‘No, Lawrence.’

‘Then why were you not here on time?’

‘We might ask the same of you, Lawrence,’ said Gill with an impish grin. ‘Owen and I had a long wait before you deigned to appear.’

‘The meeting should start the moment that I walk through the door.’

‘Then you’ll have to walk through it again when the others arrive for we cannot begin without them.’ Gill turned to Ingram. ‘Take care, James,’ he warned. ‘Lawrence is like a wounded bull this morning. He’ll charge you as soon as look at you.’

‘Hold your noise, Barnaby!’ snapped Firethorn.

‘Hark! The beast is snorting again. He’ll stamp his foot next.’

‘Bait me any more and I’ll stamp it on your overgrown testicles.’

‘Peace!’ chided Elias. ‘If you are in this humour, Lawrence, there is no point in having any discussion this morning. Why do we not disband and return when you are in a more amenable mood?’

‘That might take years,’ said Gill.

‘Stop goading him, Barnaby.’

‘I merely speak the truth.’

‘I’m surprised that vicious tongue of yours still knows how to do that,’ remarked Firethorn, sharply. ‘It’s told so many wicked lies that it’s in danger of dropping out. The day that Barnaby Gill turns honest man, the streets will sprout corn and the Thames will run with ale. You are nothing but a viper.’

‘Then best beware my sting.’

‘Enough of this!’ protested Elias.

‘Yes,’ said Ingram, forcefully. ‘There’s no sport for us in watching you two at each other’s throats. I thought we were met to talk about the future of the company, not to see a cock fight. Take off your spurs, I pray.’

‘Well said, James.’

Firethorn and Gill stared across the table at each other but said nothing. The other sharers began to drift in until the full complement was assembled. The actor-manager rapped his knuckles on the table to gain everyone’s attention. Before he could start the meeting, however, the door was flung open and a white-faced Hugh Wegges was standing before them. He pointed at Firethorn.

‘There you are,’ he said, ‘I need to speak with you.’

Firethorn was curt. ‘This is not the time, man. Be off with you!’

‘But you’ll want to hear what I say.’

‘If it’s to ask for your wages in advance again, then you waste your time. I spurn your request. How dare you interrupt us! Now, take that ugly visage out of my sight.’

‘We’ve been robbed!’ cried Wegges.

‘What are you jabbering about?’

‘I came to set out the costumes for
Love and Fortune,
that we play tomorrow, and half of them are not there. The finest costumes from our stock have gone. If you do not believe me, come and see for yourself.’

‘I’ll do just that,’ said Firethorn, hauling himself up. ‘If this be a jest, Hugh, I’ll paint you yellow and hang you from the highest tree in England.’

‘It’s no jest, alas. I wish that it were.’

Wegges led the way with Firethorn at his heels. Elias and Gill were also in attendance. The tireman kept their costumes under lock and key in a room adjacent to the chamber that was used as their tiring-house. When they got there, Wegges threw open the door to reveal the evidence of the crime.

‘See, sirs,’ he said, ‘what terrible losses we have suffered.’

The newcomers were dumbfounded. Several of their costumes had disappeared and those that were left behind were scattered all over the floor. It was obvious from a glance that the only richest garments had been stolen. Gill let out a cry.

‘They’ve taken my doublet from
The Merchant of Calais,’
he gasped.

‘And my cloak from
Black Antonio,’
complained Elias.

‘What of my gown from
The Insatiate Duke?’
said Firethorn. ‘It was a present from our patron and cost all of twenty pounds. A pox on these villains!’ he yelled. ‘They’ve taken our clothes and left us naked. Heads will roll for this.’ He looked around in despair. ‘Oh, where is Nick Bracewell when we need him most?’

Nicholas did not hesitate. Knowing that it was important to reach Ralph Olgrave before the man’s partner did, he bounded through the streets until he came to Old Jewry. He did not even have to knock. A person he took to be Olgrave was talking to one of his servants at the threshold before departing. Nicholas had a moment to size the man up. Olgrave was older and shorter than his partner, but wider in the shoulders. Where Beechcroft had been gaunt, Olgrave was fleshy; where the one chose flamboyant apparel, the other had more sober taste. After giving instructions to his servant, Olgrave set off. Nicholas moved in to intercept him.

‘Master Olgrave?’ he enquired.

‘Yes,’ replied the other with smile. ‘Who might you be, sir?’

‘My name is Nicholas Bracewell and I crave a word with you.’

‘Do you wish to employ me in some way?’

‘Only to provide me with some information, Master Olgrave.’

‘Concerning what?’

‘Bridewell.’

‘Ah,’ said Olgrave with a chuckle. ‘Master Bracewell asks about Bridewell, does he? Visit me there, if you wish, sir,’ he went on, blithely. ‘I do not like to be interrogated on my doorstep.’

‘Does that mean you have something to hide?’ probed Nicholas.

‘Which of us does not, my friend? There’s not a man alive who does not have something in his past he wishes to stay buried. Or if there is, he’s lived a very dull life.’ He appraised Nicholas shrewdly. ‘I take you for someone who’s seen excitement in his time. That means you’ll have your share of dark secrets to conceal.’

‘Nothing that I’d feel ashamed about, Master Olgrave.’

‘Nor me. I’ve never had a twinge of guilt in my life.’

‘Let me come back to Bridewell.’

‘No, my friend,’ said Olgrave, smoothly. ‘Let
me
come back to Bridewell. Seek me there if you have any business with me. You’ll find me there most days.’

‘And some nights, too.’

‘I have an apartment there, true. It’s one of my privileges.’

‘What do you do to earn those privileges, Master Olgrave?’

‘I run the workhouse honestly and capably with my partner.’

‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘I’ve spoken with Master Beechcroft.’

‘Oh? To what end, may I ask?’

‘I’ve been commissioned by a lawyer to track down a man who has come into an unexpected inheritance. He’s much in need of it, too, for the last I heard of him, he was sent to Bridewell as a punishment.’

‘We provide work as well as correction. Who is this man you seek?’

‘His name Hywel Rees.’

‘No,’ said Olgrave without a flicker. ‘I do not recall the fellow.’

‘Master Beechcroft knew him instantly.’

‘Then why do you come to me? If Joseph recognises the name, speak to him. Had I met him, I think I’d remember someone called Hywel Rees, but I do not.’

‘What of Dorothea Tate?’

‘What of her?’ replied Olgrave, easily. ‘The name is new to me.’

‘She was a friend of Hywel Rees, and also sent to Bridewell.’

‘You seem to know more about our inmates than I do, Master Bracewell. Do you have any more names to scatter before me or may I continue on my way?’

Nicholas paused. Ralph Olgrave had more self-possession than his partner. Unlike Joseph Beechcroft, his expression did not betray his thoughts. The same complacent smile had played around Olgrave’s lips from the start. Nicholas could not remove it.

‘How often are your inmates discharged?’ he said.

‘As often or as seldom as we wish.’

‘I learn that Hywel Rees was thrust out after only a short time in Bridewell.’

‘You’ve learnt more than me,’ said Olgrave. ‘My partner signs the discharge papers. I’ve no knowledge of this man or of his release.’

‘Dorothea Tate was let out more recently.’

‘Then she’ll have vanished back into the eternal army of beggars who besiege the capital. Bridewell does a valuable service, my friend.’

‘Does it?’

‘We try to sweep the streets clean of vagrants so that worthy citizens like you can walk them with safety.’

‘How much safety do the vagrants have once inside Bridewell?’

‘There’s only one way for you to find out.’

‘Is there?’

‘Yes,’ said Olgrave with a teasing grin. ‘Come there as our guest. All you have to do is to live on the streets and beg for your food, and we’ll be pleased to invite you to our table. We may need to whip you first but I see you have a broad back that will survive the punishment. Nicholas Bracewell, is it?’ he went on, looking him up and down. ‘Now, that’s one name I will remember. Adieu, good sir.’

Olgrave raised his hat in mock farewell, then sauntered off down the street. Nicholas watched him go. He had not been able to penetrate the man’s smugness but he was nevertheless glad of the encounter. It showed him what he was up against. Having met Joseph Beechcroft, he was more than ready to accept Dorothea’s assessment that the man
was a devil, but he remembered what she had said about his partner. In her view, Ralph Olgrave was even worse. As he saw the jaunty figure moving away from him, Nicholas had no difficulty in believing it.

‘Saints preserve us!’ exclaimed Adam Crowmere. ‘How on earth did
this
happen?’

‘I put that same question to you,’ said Firethorn, angrily. ‘Do you not keep your doors locked at night?’

“Tis an article of faith with me. I check them myself before I retire to bed.’

‘And was the door to our wardrobe secure?’

‘Completely. I remember trying the latch.’

‘What time was that?’

‘Around midnight, as I recall.’

‘Then our thief came calling in the darkness.’

Summoned by Firethorn, the landlord gaped at the half-empty room where the costumes had been stored. Elias and Ingram had withdrawn but Hugh Wegges, as the tireman, lingered at the door. Crowmere ran a worried hand across his brow.

‘This is a tragedy, Lawrence,’ he said. ‘What must you think of me?’

‘That depends on whether or not you were at fault.’