The Princess of Denmark (17 page)

‘Only when the sea was calm enough. Most of the time, it was so rough that it tossed the pieces from the table.’ He crossed over to the chest. ‘This brings back so many memories. Chess defined the man. It’s a game of subtlety, intellect and quiet ruthlessness. Rolfe had all those qualities.’

‘He left other things as well – and you are welcome to have any of them – but I thought that this would be the most appropriate memento of him.’

‘It is, Master Langberg.’

‘As for his many books—’

‘No, no,’ said Lord Westfield, interrupting him. ‘I’m not inclined to reading. Keep those learned tomes of his or, better still, donate them to a university. Rolfe would have endorsed that.’

‘An excellent suggestion, my lord.’

‘What about his killer? Has any arrest been made?’

‘Not yet,’ replied Langberg. ‘We have had to widen the search outside the castle. One of your fellows, Nicholas Bracewell, made an astute observation.’

‘He’s the shrewdest man in the company.’

‘I can well believe it. He argued that Rolfe was killed elsewhere then carried down to the casemates to be hidden. It would have taken two men to get him there – the killer and his accomplice.’

‘So?’

‘Not long before the discovery was made, two individuals were seen leaving the castle yesterday evening. We know their names.’

‘Who were they?’

‘Two cooks recently employed here,’ said Langberg. ‘At least, that’s what the steward thought they were when he engaged the two men. It now appears as if they sought work in the castle so that they could lay in wait for Rolfe Harling.’

‘How did they know that he was coming?’

‘That’s what I long to find out, my lord, and I mean to do so. We’ve a dungeon in the casemates with some instruments of torture that can loosen any tongues.’ Langberg’s eyes blazed and his voice became a growl. ‘I’ll squeeze the truth out of them, whatever it takes. They robbed me of a good friend.’

‘And me.’

‘They also threw the castle into confusion only days before a wedding is due to take place. I’ll never forgive them for that. My niece should have been allowed to look forward to the event in peace and tranquillity. Instead of which,’ he went on angrily, ‘Sigbrit is cowering in her room like a frightened animal.’

‘Where are the villains now?’

‘Somewhere in the town, I suspect. A search has begun for them.’ He forced a smile. ‘I deeply regret all this, my lord. Pardon my rage. If you knew how much time I have spent on the arrangements here, you would understand it.’

‘I share it, Master Langberg.’

‘Let us think of cheerier things.’

His visitor grimaced. ‘I do not know of any.’

‘Then your memory is wondrously short. Westfield’s Men are to perform in the town this afternoon and I intend to be there. So will you, I daresay.’

‘No,’ said the other. ‘
Cupid’s Folly
is a diverting piece but I’m in no mood for pastoral comedy. Had I been able to take Sigbrit, it would have been a different matter. If she remains here, then so do I.’

‘As you wish, my lord.’ He turned to the chess set. ‘Shall I have this carried to your apartment?’

‘Please. It will help me to remember Rolfe. He loved the game so much that he sometimes played against himself. Imagine that.’

‘I can imagine it very easily.’

‘I never stood the slightest chance of defeating him. His mind was always several moves ahead.’

‘When you played together,’ said Langberg, picking up a white pawn to examine it, ‘which colour did Rolfe prefer?’

‘Oh, black,’ replied Lord Westfield. ‘He always chose black.’

Cupid’s Folly
was an unqualified success. Its simplicity made it easily accessible to an audience that was largely ignorant of the English language and its broad comedy had an instant appeal. In the central role, Barnaby Gill was superb and it was to Lawrence Firethorn’s credit that he allowed his rival to reap such a harvest of applause. Pierced by Cupid’s arrow, Rigormortis, a doddering old man, fell in love with every woman he saw and yet, paradoxically, he spurned the one female who adored him. Three of the apprentices
transformed themselves into pretty country wenches, pursued in turn by the love-struck Rigormortis. The fourth, John Tallis, relegated to the ranks of older women since his voice had broken, played the part of Ursula, the ugly, slothful termagant who conceived a fierce passion for the old man and, literally, chased him around the stage.

Gill’s comic gifts enlivened the whole afternoon and his jigs were greeted with a riot of laughter. The rest of the company also shone. Firethorn was Lord Hayfever, a frolicsome lord of the manor, forever sneezing when in the presence of women. Owen Elias was a lecherous priest whose attempted pounces on the wenches always ended in disaster, James Ingram and Frank Quilter were honest yokels who rescued the womenfolk from all the attacks on their virtue, and Edmund Hoode, a beacon of decency throughout, was the generous farmer who invited everyone to a feast at his home. It had fallen to Hoode to speak the Prologue that set the tone of the comedy.

At the end of the play, the whole company took part in a dance around a maypole, an example of English
rural tradition that the spectators found both hilarious yet endearing. Two hours of magic had taken place in the square at Elsinore. When it was over, there was an ovation that lasted for several minutes. Everyone on the benches rose to acclaim the troupe, nobody smacking their palms together with more zest than Bror Langberg and his wife, Johanna, captivated by the brilliance of the actors and delighted with an event that took attention away from the brutal murder at the castle.

Firethorn may have led out his actors to take their bows but it was Gill who deserved most of the praise and who lapped it up with unashamed selfishness. When the cheers began to fade and they withdrew reluctantly to the tiring house, the clown was at his most self-absorbed, still basking in the wonderful reception he had been given by the townspeople.

‘Well done, Barnaby!’ said Nicholas Bracewell. ‘I’ve never seen you play the part better. You were magnificent.’

‘I am
always
magnificent,’ returned Gill haughtily.

‘Yes,’ said Firethorn. ‘Magnificently good or magnificently bad. That’s your weakness, Barnaby. You have no middle way. You are either conquering hero or catastrophe.’

‘Whereas you occupy a lowly station between the two,’ came the immediate riposte. ‘You are rooted in mediocrity, Lawrence. Having no greatness yourself, you despise it in others. Well,’ said Gill with a lordly wave of the hand, ‘I can be magnanimous. Since you earned no compliments on stage this afternoon, I’ll spare you some of mine for I had far more than I need.’

‘Then perhaps you can spare a compliment for Anne as well,’ suggested Nicholas, ‘and couple it with an apology. Your gown was torn apart in that tavern brawl in the Second Act. Had it not been hastily sewn together again by Anne, you would have been dressed like a scarecrow.’

‘My performance did not depend on a well-sewn costume.’

‘But it was helped by Anne’s skill as a tireman.’

Gill was dismissive. ‘I know nothing of that.’

‘Then you should,’ said Elias, irritated by his disdain. ‘You are ready to accept gratitude from an audience but Rigormortis is seized with
rigor mortis
when you are asked to offer some yourself.’ There was a loud murmur of approval from the others. ‘Today, we witnessed an historic event. It’s the first time that a woman – a delightful one, at that – has helped Westfield’s Men to stage a play.’

‘I hope that it will be the last,’ said Gill.

‘Shame on you!’

‘Women have no rightful place in drama.’

‘Then why do you insist on behaving like one?’ said Firethorn spikily. ‘Everyone knows that this company consists of actors, apprentices, hired men – and an old woman named Barnaby Gill.’

Gill’s snarled protest was drowned out by mocking laughter.

Though the play had been a triumph, they now had to turn to the more mundane task of dismantling their stage and putting their scenery, properties and costumes back on the carts. Only then could they drift off to the White Hart to celebrate. During the bustle of activity, Gill was
conspicuously absent and Firethorn was taken aside by the mayor and by Bror Langberg to receive thanks on behalf of his company. Everyone else worked with commitment. When the others had departed for the inn, Nicholas was left behind with Anne Hendrik. Embracing her warmly, he gave her a kiss of gratitude.

‘We could not have managed without you, Anne,’ he said.

‘You’ll have to do so when I leave on Sunday.’

‘No, no. We’ll keep you with us forever.’

‘Not if I cause such discontent,’ she said.

‘Barnaby is the only person who complained.’

‘One or two of the others felt uncomfortable about having me there. I could sense it. On the other hand,’ she went on happily, ‘I’d not have missed a chance like this. It was an education for me. I’ve seen dozens of plays on stage at the Queen’s Head but I had no idea that so much went on behind the scenes.’

‘That’s where the real work is done, Anne.’

‘Most of it by you, Nick. The actors would not know when to make their entrances had you not drawn up that guide for them and pinned it to the wall.’

‘I have to know each play scene by scene,’ he told her, ‘so that master list is for my benefit as much as theirs. And you were not the only student here. Both of us were educated today. You saw something of my work and I, yours.’

‘Oh, I do little enough with a needle these days.’

‘You did enough to save us this afternoon.
Cupid’s Folly
was all the better for having you here. The pity of it is that we did not have our patron in the audience with Sigbrit
Olsen. But, according to Master Langberg, the lady is so distressed by what happened in the casemates yesterday that she is too frightened to leave her room.’

‘Is that what he said?’

‘Yes, Anne. I spoke with him before earlier.’

‘Then we have another oddity.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Yesterday evening,’ she replied, ‘well after the body had been found, I saw her descending the back stairs to the courtyard.’

Nicholas was taken aback. ‘Are you
sure
?’

‘Nobody could mistake a face like that, Nick.’

‘I know – I had a brief glimpse of it myself.’

‘If the lady were so alarmed by the murder, she’d have stayed behind a locked door. What was she doing on the stairs?’

‘I wish I knew, Anne. It’s more than odd – it’s very peculiar.’

‘Did her uncle know about it, I wonder?’

‘I doubt it,’ said Nicholas, ‘but it’s not our place to tell him about the incident. Elsinore castle is certainly full of mysteries and this is only the latest one. I hope we have no more to vex us.’ He looked around. ‘Our work is finished here, Anne. Would our tireman like to join the others?’

‘If you think I’ll be made welcome.’

‘You’ll be feted.’ They walked off in the direction of the White Hart. ‘They
needed
today,’ he said. ‘They needed something to take their minds off the murder of Rolfe Harling and remind them that they belong to a theatre company of rare distinction. Think of our setbacks. The
Queen’s Head was burnt down, pirates attacked us in the North Sea, we were consigned to those gloomy casemates, and the man who arranged this marriage at our patron’s behest was murdered.’

‘Ill fortune from start to finish,’ she remarked.

‘At least, it
has
finished, Anne. The horror is finally over.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘I feel it in my bones,’ he said, slipping an arm around her, ‘and they are never wrong. Westfield’s Men have come through a time of trial. We are safe at last.’

An hour later, the
Speedwell
came in sight of her destination. Two of the passengers viewed the distant town with special interest. Josias Greet spat into the sea and gave a lopsided grin.

‘That’s Elsinore ahead of us, Ben.’

‘Yes,’ said Ryden, ‘and not before time.’

‘What do we do when we land?’

‘Kill him as soon as possible and get away from here.’

Celebrations in the White Hart went on for a couple of hours. It was almost like being back in the Queen’s Head except that the landlord was friendly, the beer Danish and the unstinting praise given in more than one language as spectators from various countries crowded in to thank the actors for coming to Elsinore. Among those who had seen the play, the vast majority fawned on Barnaby Gill, the erstwhile Rigormortis, and his admirers were puzzled by the sharp contrast between his comic brilliance on stage and his melancholy when off it. Everyone in the company enjoyed his share of free drink and congratulation. Westfield’s Men felt accepted, honoured and feted. As they went back to Kronborg in their carts, there was such a general sense of well being that they broke spontaneously into song.

Their buoyancy did not last. As soon as they entered the castle through the Dark Gate, the atmosphere changed. Guards eyed them with resentment and made derisive
remarks. The smiles that had greeted their arrival were long gone. They were made to feel like the outsiders they were, a despised minority who had brought trouble and discomfort to Elsinore.

‘Now we know what is like to be strangers in a country,’ said Nicholas Bracewell. ‘Your husband must have felt this animosity when he came to England.’

‘Dutch immigrants still arouse great bitterness there,’ said Anne, ‘as we know only too well. But I do not understand why there has been such a change of mood here.’

‘Put yourself in their position. Everything was in order until Westfield’s Men arrived. Then a murder is committed, the castle is in a state of chaos and some of the garrison are forced out of their hut so that we can move into it.’

‘They surely cannot blame you for the murder, Nick.’

‘One of our number was the victim. That’s all they see. As a result, every soldier is on duty for long hours and those who occupied our hut have been made to sleep in the casemates. We are highly unpopular with them,’ said Nicholas, ‘and we are not exempt from suspicion. Until the killer is caught, everyone in the castle is now under scrutiny.’

‘Even me?’

‘Yes, Anne. And you have another bad mark against you.’

‘Do I?’

‘You are our tireman,’ he said with a smile, ‘and therefore tarred with the same brush.’

They reached their hut. Nicholas made sure that everything was unloaded from the carts and stowed under cover for the night. He then went off to find their patron
so that he could report what had happened. Seated beside a flagon of wine, Lord Westfield was in his apartment, seething with frustration at being unable to talk to his future wife. The redness of his cheek and the occasional slurring in his speech indicated that it was not the first flagon of wine. He gave Nicholas an offhand welcome.

‘Why have you come?’ he asked dully.

‘Lawrence thought that you might like to hear about our success in the town this afternoon, my lord.’

‘Well, there has been no success here, I can tell you. My day has been a story of constant failure. I pine, I mope, I fret. They will not let me near her. My princess is here in the castle and she refuses to see anyone, not even the man who has pledged to marry her. It’s too much,’ he insisted. ‘She needs me, Nicholas. I could comfort her.’

‘You will have time enough to do that after the wedding.’

‘I want to see Sigbrit
now
.’

‘Master Langberg says that she is too distressed by the murder to venture from her chamber.’

‘We are all distressed,’ contended the other, ‘none more so than me. Heavens above, I was Rolfe’s friend. I liked him, I engaged him, I had complete faith in him to find me a suitable wife.’

‘And that’s exactly what he did, my lord.’

‘Then where is she?’

‘Trying to overcome the shock of what happened.’

‘I should be with Sigbrit to help her. Instead of that, I am left alone and made to feel more like a prisoner here than a guest.’

Nicholas waited while he took a long sip from his glass.
He saw no point in telling Lord Westfield what he had learnt from Anne. It would only create another wave of self-pity if his patron knew that Sigbrit Olsen had been seen out of her apartment not long after the body had been discovered. Nicholas was baffled by her behaviour. Lord Westfield would be horrified. The book holder tried to cheer him up.

‘Westfield’s Men were supreme today,’ he said. ‘
Cupid’s Folly
was received with great acclaim in the town and your name was spoken of with thanks and admiration.’

‘Not by Sigbrit, alas.’

‘You would have been proud of your company, my lord. They were peerless – and not simply because they lacked their patron.’ The pun went unnoticed by Lord Westfield. ‘We missed you.’

‘I was too steeped in sadness to watch a comedy, especially one that ends with a maypole dance and a wedding. It would have rankled. Tragedy alone would match my disposition.’

‘We play again tomorrow, my lord.’

‘Then do not count on my presence.’

‘Master Langberg was there today with his wife. They both seemed to enjoy the performance. And the mayor thought it the funniest thing he had ever seen. Barnaby was unsurpassed.’

‘I need more than a prancing clown to lift my spirits,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘The only thing that would make me attend tomorrow would be the joy of having my princess of Denmark on my arm.’

‘By tomorrow, the lady may have recovered.’

‘So may I.’ He drained his glass and hauled himself to
his feet. ‘I am sorry to be so liverish with you, Nicholas,’ he said. ‘It’s not only Sigbrit who has brought this misery on. I mourn Rolfe Harling. The truth is that I feel, to some degree, culpable for his death.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I was responsible for bringing him here.’

‘You were not to know that someone was plotting to kill him. Shed any pangs of guilt you may have, my lord. This crime should not weigh on your conscience.’

‘Nevertheless, it does.’

‘I still believe the explanation for his death lies somewhere in Master Harling’s private life. The truth will only be revealed when we know who killed him.’

‘But we already do know.’

Nicholas was surprised. ‘That’s news to me, my lord.’

‘According to Bror Langberg, two men were seen sneaking away from here not long before the body was found. They had worked in the castle kitchens, it seems.’

‘Is there any proof that they committed the murder?’

‘No,’ said the other, ‘but it’s reasonable to assume that they were the villains. They’ve not been seen since. The search has been widened to include the town itself.’

‘Ah,’ said Nicholas, recalling the many soldiers he had seen patrolling Elsinore that day. ‘That accounts for something that came to my notice. Yet it still does not solve the crime.’

‘The names of the killers are at least known.’

‘Possibly, my lord, and I hope that is the case. But there are other reasons that could prompt two men to flee the castle. They should not be condemned outright. Perhaps
they were badly treated here or paid too poorly for work they disliked doing. Perhaps they had business that called them back home.’

‘Bror Langberg was convinced that they were the culprits.’

‘Then I would like to talk to them if they are caught.’

‘He intends to extract confessions under torture.’

‘All that interests me is their motive,’ said Nicholas. ‘Why did they kill Rolfe Harling? Why was he singled out and why was such violence used against him?’

‘I wish I knew, Nicholas. None of it makes sense. A more innocuous creature never walked the earth, that’s for certain.’

Though he endorsed the statement with a nod, Nicholas had some reservations. He did not wish to unsettle Lord Westfield by voicing them, however, so he held his tongue. His gaze fell on the chess set that stood on a small table in the corner.

‘You’ve been playing chess, I see,’ he remarked.

‘I’ve been trying to,’ said the other, crossing to the table. ‘I was so bored with my own company that I sought solace in a game. I played against myself the way that I’d seen Rolfe do often but I lack both his patience and his cunning.’

‘The pieces are carved from the finest ivory.’

‘It seems that they are bequeathed to me.’

‘Did Master Harling have no family?’

‘None that I know of,’ said Lord Westfield, running a hand through his hair. ‘Rolfe loved his work. He was a perpetual student, lonely and contemplative.’ He looked up. ‘Do you play chess?’

‘Not well, my lord,’ admitted Nicholas. ‘I learnt aboard the
Golden Hind
– or the
Pelican
, as she was when we first set sail. The ship’s carpenter had made a chess set out of wood. That’s why I was curious when I first saw this one.’

‘Curious?’

‘The chessmen are so large, three or four times bigger than the ones we used. Our set could be slipped into a man’s pocket and so could the board. Not this one. Then there is the expense.’

‘It was Rolfe’s only indulgence – apart from his books, of course. He certainly did not spend money on his wardrobe,’ he said with a laugh, ‘and the pleasures of London were unknown to him. He bought the set in Italy.’ He handed a white bishop to Nicholas. ‘As you can see, the workmanship is exquisite.’

Nicholas inspected it. ‘So delicate yet so solid,’ he said, turning it over. ‘I can see why he treasured the set.’

‘He kept it by him at all times.’

‘Did the game mean so much to him?’

‘So it would appear.’

A memory surfaced. ‘You told me earlier, my lord, that Master Harling had been recommended to you by a trusted friend.’ He returned the white bishop to him. ‘Could his name, by any chance, be Sir Robert Cecil?’

Lord Westfield was astonished. ‘It could, as it happens,’ he said. ‘How on earth did you guess that?’

‘Then the ugly woman, Ursula, leapt out from behind a tree and chased him around the stage until he tripped and fell into the horse trough with a splash.’ Johanna Langberg
burst into laughter again as she remembered the scene. It was some time before she was able to continue. ‘After that,’ she said, composing herself, ‘Rigormortis put the three wenches aside and swore that he loved only Ursula. They were duly married.’

‘You clearly enjoyed the play, Aunt Johanna,’ said Sigbrit.

‘It was a comical feast.’

‘What of Uncle Bror?’

‘He loved it as much as the rest of us, Sigbrit. My one regret is that you were not there to share our pleasure.’

‘My mind was too troubled.’

‘
Cupid’s Folly
would have dispelled all your cares.’

‘Sigbrit was better off here,’ said Hansi Askgaard. ‘She is not inclined to company at the moment, Aunt Johanna. It’s only because I’m her sister that I’m allowed in here.’

‘You were not allowed, Hansi,’ corrected Sigbrit mildly. ‘You were wanted and welcomed. And so are you, Aunt Johanna.’

The three women were in Sigbrit’s apartment. Evening shadows had lengthened and several candles had been lighted. The ones that burnt beside Sigbrit illumined a face that was warped by a deep frown, pursed lips and eyes ringed by fatigue. She looked as if she had had no sleep at all the previous night. Having listened to her aunt’s account of the performance, she forced herself to show an interest.

‘You say that Ursula was an ugly woman?’

‘Yes,’ replied Johanna. ‘She had the features of a pig.’

‘Yet she was really a boy in disguise.’

‘That was the wonder of it, Sigbrit. I knew that he
was only an apprentice but, within five minutes, he had persuaded me that he was a flesh and blood woman. It was so with the others,’ she continued. ‘They were such pretty country wenches that I felt they simply had to be young girls. But no – they were artful boys.’

‘One of them is to play
you
, Sigbrit,’ said Hansi.

Her sister was alarmed. ‘Me?’

‘That’s what Uncle Bror told me. A new play has been written in your honour.
The Princess of Denmark
is dedicated to you and Lord Westfield has asked that the apprentice playing the heroine should resemble his bride as closely as possible.’

‘But he has never seen me.’

‘Your portrait will have been shown to him.’

‘Yes,’ said Johanna, ‘and he will have further instruction from your future husband. Now that he has met you, Lord Westfield will be able to describe you in every detail.’

‘This is all very well, Aunt Johanna,’ said Sigbrit, ‘but I am very uneasy at the thought that we will all be sitting at a play while a killer is still at liberty in the castle.’

‘But he is not.’

‘He’s been caught?’

‘He and his accomplice very soon will be.’

‘It was the work of two men?’

‘So it transpires,’ said Hansi. ‘Fearing arrest for the murder, two of our cooks fled from the castle. Uncle Bror has sent search parties into the town. So you no longer need to hide away in here, Sigbrit. You may breathe easily again and – yes – you may now enjoy watching
The Princess of Denmark
without the merest touch of guilt. By the time that
it’s performed, the villains will be safely under lock and key.’

‘So you can devote all your attention to the wedding,’ said Johanna happily. Her niece’s worried expression remained. ‘Learn to smile again, Sigbrit,’ she urged. ‘Show pleasure. That’s the least a husband can expect from you.’

‘He’d get more than a smile if he dedicated a play to me,’ said Hansi with a shrill laugh. ‘I can think of nothing more wonderful than to see myself portrayed on stage.’

Sigbrit shuddered. ‘The very idea unnerves me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it raises me up to a position I have no desire to hold. I love the theatre and I admire actors immensely but I do not want one of them to pretend to be me.’ She bit her lip before going on. ‘Thus it stands. I married my first husband out of love. Ingmar and I needed no play to mark the occasion, still less the presence of the king. We were enough for each other.’

‘This is a different kind of marriage,’ counselled her aunt.

‘I know. I am taking a husband out of duty rather than love.’

‘Duty comes first. Love will surely follow.’