The Princess of Denmark (21 page)

Firethorn was incredulous. ‘That’s absurd, Nick. Why would two men come all the way from England in pursuit of Owen?’

‘Because they were extremely well paid.’

‘By whom?’

‘Will Dunmow’s father,’ said Nicholas. ‘He was furious at what happened to his son and I think that Owen bore the brunt of that fury. You must remember that it was he and James Ingram who put Will to bed that night. Owen gave a full account of it to Master Rooker, the friend who was charged to look after Will while he was in London.’

‘This is idle supposition.’

‘I wonder,’ said Hoode.

‘I don’t see a pattern here,’ said Firethorn.

‘Then you must open your eyes much wider,’ advised Nicholas. ‘The men who killed Master Harling were Danish. Those who sought Owen’s life were English.’

‘That proves nothing. There are several Englishmen living in Elsinore. It could have been any of them.’

‘You would not believe that if you’d talked, as I did, to the landlord of the White Hart. Two men arrived from London yesterday evening on the
Speedwell
. They lodged at the inn for one night. They also questioned the landlord closely about Westfield’s Men and were delighted to hear that we’d be performing in the square today.’

‘They probably wished to be in the audience,’ said Firethorn.

‘I’m sure that they were,’ Nicholas resumed, ‘and I’m equally sure that they went to the White Hart to await our arrival. These men are strangers to the town, Lawrence.’

‘If they lodged at the inn,’ said Hoode, ‘they’d have given their names to the landlord. Did you ask what they were called, Nick?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then we know who they were.’

‘I fear not, Edmund. They were too cunning to give their real names. One of them was called Ben – I heard it called out. Neither of them gave that name to the landlord.’

Firethorn scratched his beard. Nicholas was so sure of his facts that his judgement had to be respected. The actor-manager had been badly shaken by events at the White Hart. He wanted no repetition.

‘Owen must never be left alone,’ he decreed. ‘Someone must protect him at all times.’

‘He’s safe within the castle,’ said Nicholas. ‘Every gate is locked and guarded. Those villains would never be able to get anywhere near Owen. Besides, one of them was shot in the back. Instead of trying to take someone else’s life, he’ll be hanging onto his own.’

Josias Greet was in a state of panic. Having carried his friend to a hiding place not far from the inn, he was absolutely exhausted. Yet he knew that he had to move on. Ben Ryden was bleeding profusely. Every word he spoke was charged with pain.

‘Where are we, Josias?’

‘In a ditch behind the church.’

‘We must get away.’

‘You’re in no condition to walk.’

‘Carry me,’ ordered Ryden. ‘When it’s really dark, carry me.’

‘Where?’

‘To the harbour. We’ll steal aboard tonight.’

‘Yes, Ben,’ said the other, knowing full well that Ryden might not even live that long. ‘I’ll do as you say.’

‘Scurvy Welshman!’

‘We should have stabbed him when we had the chance.’

‘He had to be burnt to death. That was our commission.’

‘Forget about it now. All that we need worry about is you.’

‘My body is on fire. I feel as if there’s a red hot poker in my back.’ A spasm of pain made him convulse. ‘Damnation!’

‘Be quiet!’ said Greet, clapping a hand over his mouth. ‘You’ll give us away, Ben.’ He peered anxiously over the top of the ditch. An extension was being built to the church and they were hiding in its muddy foundations. ‘We cannot stay here much longer. They’ll come with torches for another search. We have to sneak away.’

He looked down at his companion with a mixture of sympathy and fear. Sorry that Ryden had been injured, he saw what a burden his friend had now become. If he had any hope of escape, Greet had to go alone. Ryden’s body sagged and his head fell forward. Weakened by the loss of blood, he lapsed slowly into unconsciousness, his mouth agape and his breathing laboured. Greet acted on impulse. After seizing the other man’s purse, he also deprived him of his dagger. Then he took another look over the top of the ditch. Lanterns appeared at the far end of the street. Another search was being conducted. By staying where he was, Greet risked discovery. In trying to take Ryden with him, he would make escape virtually impossible. There was only one thing to do and he did not hesitate.

‘I’m sorry, Ben,’ he said, raising the dagger. ‘I have to do this.’

Then he slit Ryden’s throat with a flick of his wrist.

After his glimpse of Sigbrit Olsen across the courtyard, Lord Westfield was in high spirits. He returned to his apartment and began to write a letter to her, praising her beauty and promising that he would dedicate himself to making her happy. He was not pleased to be interrupted by Nicholas Bracewell.

‘Yes?’ he said abruptly, holding the door open.

‘I want to speak to you about this afternoon, my lord.’

‘Bror Langberg has already done so. He told me everything that I need to hear about
The Wizard Earl
.’

‘I am not here to discuss the performance.’

‘Talk to me another time. I am too busy now.’

Nicholas held his ground. ‘Too busy to hear about an attempted murder?’ he asked, using a palm to stop the door from being shut in his face. ‘One of your actors was almost killed, my lord.’

‘Oh.’ Lord Westfield stood back. ‘You had better come in.’

Nicholas entered and closed the door behind him. He explained what had occurred at the White Hart and confided his suspicions about whom the two men might be, stressing that he was relying on guesswork rather than evidence.

‘In my experience,’ said the other, ‘your guesses have a habit of being remarkably accurate. How is Owen Elias now?’

‘Fast asleep. He has a bad wound in his scalp.’

‘Will he be able to perform at the wedding?’

‘I hope so,’ said Nicholas. ‘Owen is a strong man. He recovered well from the first attack on him. We trust that
he’ll do the same again. There is something I am bid to ask you, my lord,’ he went on. ‘We shall be rehearsing
The Princess of Denmark
tomorrow. Lawrence wondered if you wished to be present.’

‘No, Nicholas. I prefer to see it for the first time with the lady who inspired it. We will each come to it afresh.’

‘A wise decision.’

‘Is there anything that I can do for Owen?’

‘I think not, my lord. We will all nurse him back to health.’

‘Have you reported the incident to Bror Langberg?’

‘No,’ replied Nicholas, ‘and nor will I. His hands are full with the preparations for the wedding and he already has one murder on his hands. Owen – by the grace of God – survived. There the matter ends until we return to London.’

‘What happens then?’

‘We’ll confront the man who hired those two ruffians. But I am interrupting you, my lord,’ he said apologetically. ‘I’ll withdraw.’

‘Wait a while. I’m glad you came.’ He indicated the chessmen on the table. ‘I’ve something to show you.’

‘I’ve seen them already.’

‘Hear me out,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘Earlier today, I tried to play a game against myself and became so exasperated that I swept the pieces from the table. They went all over the floor. When my temper had cooled, I picked them up again and noticed something that surprised me.’ He lifted up the black king. ‘This had come loose.’ Unscrewing the piece, he held a part in each hand. ‘What do you make of that, Nicholas?’

‘It sorts well with Master Harling’s secretive nature.’

‘There’s a message inside – take it out.’

A tiny scroll had been inserted into the upper half of the black king. It was so small that it could easily have been missed. Extracting it with the utmost care, Nicholas unrolled it. He held it close to read the miniscule hand.

‘It does not make sense,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘Rolfe had a brilliant mind yet that letter is complete gibberish.’

‘It’s not a letter, my lord.’

‘Then what the devil is it?’

Nicholas looked up at him. ‘A code.’

Anne Hendrik was finding the little room irksome. Designed for a servant, it was no more than a cramped box into which no natural light strayed. The mattress was hard and unyielding. After the cosy bed in which she slept at home, it was almost punitive. The one thing that made it bearable was the fact that Nicholas would share it with her for a short time. In spite of all that had happened, she knew that he would keep the assignation. It was hardly the most romantic place for a tryst but it would serve.

Since he would not be able to find the room without guidance, Anne had agreed to meet Nicholas at the top of the main staircase in the west wing. He slept with the others in a hut in the forecourt so it was impossible for them to go there. She longed to see him alone. Anne had spent most of the day at his side but always in the company of many people. It was vexing. She felt that an hour in his arms would atone for everything. When the appointed hour drew near, therefore, she took her candle and left the
room, padding swiftly along the corridor towards the main staircase.

In the distance, she heard voices and stepped swiftly into an alcove, covering the flame with her hand to mask its light. Footsteps approached along the corridor and the voices became clearer.

‘Thank you for all that you’ve done, Aunt Johanna.’

‘Your uncle and I love you.’

‘Without you, I could never have gone through with this.’

‘Are you still nervous?’

‘Very nervous.’

‘It will soon pass, Sigbrit.’

Anne could not understand all of the Danish words but she heard the names distinctly. Sigbrit Olsen was talking to her aunt who was carrying a candelabrum. As they went past the alcove, they were within feet of Anne and it was Sigbrit who was closer to her. The candles threw enough light for Anne to see both of them very clearly. Johanna Langberg was a gracious woman who moved with dignity but she attracted no interest from Anne. The person who fascinated her was Sigbrit Olsen, walking along on dainty feet and talking to her aunt with deference. Anne only saw her face in profile but it was enough to give her a mild shock. She backed further into the alcove.

Bror Langberg responded to the request immediately. He conducted Lawrence Firethorn to the ballroom and praised his performance as the Wizard Earl unceasingly. The actor lapped up every word like a cat with a bowl of
cream. Having discussed the matter with the others, he said nothing of the drama that had followed the performance. It was a private matter that affected only Westfield’s Men. There was no need for Langberg to be involved in any way.

‘Well,’ said Langberg as they entered the candle-lit ballroom. ‘Here we are, Master Firethorn. We know that your voice carries in here so another demonstration will not be needed.’

Firethorn grinned. ‘A few loud bellows, perhaps!’

‘You would rouse the whole castle.’

‘Then they retire to bed too early.’ He became serious. ‘As I told you, Master Langberg, we wish to rehearse in here tomorrow morning and afternoon.’

‘The ballroom is at your disposal.’

‘I must ask that we are not interrupted, sir. Though we perform in public, we do the best of our work in private. It is there that we can put our mistakes right and polish our performances.’

‘I cannot believe that you are ever in need of polish.’

‘This is a new and untried play,’ said Firethorn, concealing the fact that it was quite the opposite and that it had been rewritten and cleverly disguised by Edmund Hoode. ‘That means there is an element of danger. We never quite know how a new piece will be received.’

‘With thunderous applause, I promise you.’

‘We must first earn that applause.’

‘Westfield’s Men have done so twice in the town square.’

‘They were merry romps, sir – lively comedies to amuse the lower orders. Our audience here will be of higher standing so a more poetic offering is in order.’

‘I would cheerfully watch
anything
you play,’ said Langberg.

‘Then at least one spectator will admire us.’

Firethorn went on to explain what he would need on the following day and every single request he made was readily granted. Langberg was not only prepared to lend the company various stage properties that they lacked, he even suggested additional items that could help to decorate a scene.

‘Anything in the castle is yours, Master Firethorn,’ he said.

The actor leered. ‘Does that offer include some of the buxom wenches I’ve seen here from time to time?’

‘You can do better than servant girls and you most surely will.’

‘How?’

‘By giving the kind of performance that we saw today,’ Langberg told him. ‘The ladies will be enthralled by you. I’ll warn you now that you’ll have more than one knock on the door of your apartment on Saturday night. And it will not be King Christian, come to bestow an honour upon you, much as you deserve it. You are a famous actor, Master Firethorn. You will thrill and enchant. They will buzz around you like moths around a flame.’ He chuckled. ‘I will have to chain my wife to my side or Johanna will also succumb to your charms.’

‘The lady that intrigues me is the one beyond my reach.’

‘And who is that?’

‘Why, your niece, of course – Sigbrit.’

‘A princess in all but name.’

‘Is she really as beautiful as we are led to believe?’

‘Sigbrit is truly blessed,’ said Langberg airily. ‘She is an angel sent from above. Your patron is a most fortunate man, my friend. He is about to marry a heavenly vision.’

Nicholas Bracewell was stunned by the news. His mind was racing.

‘When was this, Anne?’ he asked.

‘Not five minutes ago.’

‘And you are certain that it was her?’

‘Yes, Nick. Her aunt spoke the name – Sigbrit.’

‘But you only saw her for a second.’

‘It was enough,’ said Anne.

They were in her little room and Nicholas was trying to take in the import of what he had been told. If her instinct was right, then a number of things were suddenly explained.