The Quality of Mercy (45 page)

“Since my
father
was
arrested
and there is no male in our household capable of making them.”

“And this was indeed a decision obviously made by a female,” Dunstan said.

“Dunstan,” Rebecca started out. She was barely suppressing her rage. “Shakespeare was kind enough to see to my safety despite the perils to his own welfare. You should be showering him with gratitude, not contempt.”

“I thank you for protecting my cousin from harm’s way,” Thomas said to Shakespeare. To Rebecca he said, “Why do you say that Miguel went to Dover?”

Shakily, Rebecca handed Thomas the note.

Thomas opened his purse and pulled out his tinder box, steel and flint. Rubbing steel upon flint, he produced the spark, lit a small strip of tinder, and illuminated the paper.

“What does it say?” Dunstan asked.

“That the ship is docked in Dover,” Thomas replied.

“Miguel’s hand?” Dunstan inquired.

“Of course it’s Miguel’s hand!” Rebecca snapped. “Do you think I’d risk traveling the open road to bring you a
forgery
?”

“I think, Becca, that your judgment is seriously flawed,” Dunstan said.

“It’s Miguel’s hand,” Thomas said. He brought the flame to the corner of the paper and reduced it to ashes. To Shakespeare he said, “See to it that my cousin returns safely to the confines of her home. You have my thanksgiving in advance, and upon our return to London I’ll see to it that you’re handsomely compensated—”

“There’s no need,” Shakespeare said.

“The man boasts pride,” Dunstan sneered.

Thomas glared at his brother. Such behavior was contrary to their breeding.

“I want to come with you,” Rebecca said to her cousins. Before they could protest, she explained, “If circumstances necessitate your boarding the ship, who is going to keep watch over the horses?”

“We shall leave them with a trustworthy innkeeper,” Dunstan said.

“Trustworthy innkeeper?”
Rebecca replied.

“Mayhap
you’ll
have the good fortune to find the rare breed, sir,” said Shakespeare to Dunstan. “It’s like searching for truffles. One must be a pig to sniff them out.”

Dunstan’s eyes narrowed, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. Rebecca saw her cousin’s anger and quickly asked,

“What if Miguel or any of the stowaways are hurt? Who is going to provide them with aid?”

“There are doctors in Dover, Becca,” Thomas said.

“And how do you explain who Miguel is? Who the stowaways are? And what you’re doing in Dover?”

The brothers were silent.

“I shall not be so meddlesome as to try and do a man’s toil,” Rebecca said. “I’ve learned my lesson well. But there are things that I
can
do to free you from menial labor so that you may perform your task clear-headed.”

“I’ll stay with her in Dover,” said Shakespeare. “I’ve come this far already.”

“And
this,
sirrah, is as far as you shall go,” Dunstan said.

Thomas said, “If Becca is to come with us, she’ll need protection.”

Dunstan’s eyes filled with disdain. “Protection from
him?
”

“Aye,” Rebecca answered. “Protection from someone who faints not at the sight of fresh blood.”

Dunstan turned red with fury. Thomas said,

“Hold your tongue, Becca.” He turned to Dunstan and said, “He has brought her thus far to safety—”

“Tis unthinkable that he should travel with us!” cried Dunstan.

“I already know everything damaging to you and your cause,” Shakespeare said. “Your available options are to trust me or to slay me.”

“I vote for the latter,” said Dunstan.

“Apologize to him!” ordered Rebecca.

Dunstan sidled his horse close to hers. He smiled and said, “Apologize?” He broke into gales of laughter.

“You’re a pig,” Rebecca said.

Dunstan stopped laughing and suddenly slapped her. “Know thy place, woman.”

Again Shakespeare felt his anger being silenced by Rebecca squeezing his arm. Ordinarily he would have ignored her warning, but after his last encounter with her family, he thought it best if she handled the situation. Rebecca locked eyes with Dunstan, then slapped him back.

There was a moment of silence.

Dunstan slapped her again, drew blood from the corner of her mouth. To Thomas he said, “Let us be off.”

Rebecca hissed to Dunstan, “You hypocritical, jealous son of a bitch bastard—”

“Becca,” Thomas warned. “Respect!”

“You’d rather endanger Miguel…” Rebecca continued, “endanger my
father — everything
that we’ve worked for — than receive help from a goodly man who has won my affections. You miserable, self-serving—”

“Enough!” Thomas shouted.

“Nay, brother.” Dunstan smiled tightly. “The wench is amusing.”

“You burn from my constant refusal to bed you,” Rebecca said, wiping the blood on her shirtsleeve.

Dunstan chuckled, regarded the rings on his fingers. “How does one burn from the refusal of a whore?”

“So would know the whorefucker who’s incapable of properly bedding his own wife.”

Dunstan’s eyes turned murderous. Even Shakespeare was shocked.

“Stow your filthy mouth,” Thomas barked at her. But the corners of his mouth crept upward. Diplomatically, he rode in between Dunstan’s and Rebecca’s horses, separating them physically. “Keep your hatred at home, Becca.”

He led Dunstan aside and whispered, “Let us trust Shakespeare. At least for now. He’s an able-bodied man and could prove to be of much assistance.”

“As if he’d fight for a pack of ‘filthy’ Jews.”

“He’d fight for Becca, that’s obvious. Possibly for us by extension. The odds against the Spanish are not favorable to us, brother. Let us not turn away two strong arms and a swinging sword.”

“I’ll murder that bitch—”

“Leave her in peace, Dunstan. You pester her constantly.”

“Tis none of your affair.”

“She no longer belongs to you! Accept it!”

Dunstan exploded. “Am I to take orders from a beardless child!” He slapped his younger brother across the face.

Thomas grabbed his brother and placed a dagger at his neck. “Keep your hands off me, brother,” he whispered.

Dunstan pushed the dagger away. “When Father dies, the entire estate is entrusted to his elder son. Remember that.”

“I piss on you.”

Dunstan sighed. “Such brotherly affection we demonstrate to the stranger, Thomas. Put the dagger away. My pardons for my insult.”

Thomas paused a moment, then slipped the dagger back in his belt. “My apologies for my insolence.”

“If you want the player along, take him. But I’ll have nothing to do with that… that
flea
. Fleas are meant to be squashed.”

“Fleas can also bite.”

“Welladay, then.
You
use his puny bite. I want nothing to do with him — or her, save to wring her little neck!”

Thomas rode back to Shakespeare. He said, “If you are willing to aid us, I shall forever remain in your debt.”

“Your debt, like your coins, are not necessary, sir,” Shakespeare said. “I expect nothing in return except civility — for me and Becca.”

“Done,” Thomas said. “Now what is the best way to get to Dover?”

Shakespeare said, “By my compass and calculations, we’re at the eastern end of Sussex approaching Midherst.”

Thomas said, “Dover is due east… My God, how much time we’ve lost. Dunstan!” he called out. “Come hither, I pray. We need to coordinate.”

Reluctantly, Dunstan pulled his stallion over to the huddle. “What?” he asked.

“We need to find the most expedient route to Dover,” Thomas explained.

The most direct path was heavily wooded, but the southern route would take them out of their way. The north required too much retracing of steps. After much debate it was decided that they should ride through the forest. The path: Grinsted to Gromebridge through the middle of Kent, passing through Denham, Wye, finally to Dover.

“How long do you think it will take us?” Shakespeare asked.

Dunstan started to say something, but his eyes went to Rebecca and he held his tongue. Gods, even dressed as a man she was a siren.

“Sixty to eighty miles out,” Thomas thought out loud. “Another day and a half. Dawn is upon us. We’ll travel throughout the day. Hopefully, nightfall should find us around or about Denham. We’ll find an inn there.”

“Becca,” said Dunstan. “Now that you are among kinsmen, it is proper that you ride with one of us.”

Rebecca didn’t respond.

“A truce, cousin,” Dunstan said.

Rebecca looked at Shakespeare. He whispered, “Go for the sake of peace. We have your betrothed’s life to think about.”

“You’re a wise man, Willy.”

She dismounted her horse. Dunstan jumped off his steed and extended a hand to help her up. She glared at the outstretched hand and moved her eyes with purpose up to Thomas. The younger brother smiled, flattered that for once Rebecca was asking him who she should ride with. Though he would have loved to ride with her, to ensure family harmony he jerked his head toward Dunstan and rode to Shakespeare’s side. Rebecca snubbed Dunstan’s offer of help and mounted the horse by herself.

“I’ll lead,” said Thomas.

“Well it is,” Dunstan said. At least he’d pulled her away from
him
. “Well it is.” A few minutes into the ride he leaned forward and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Art thou cold?”

“Never again address me in familiar voice.”

“You’re shivering. I have an extra blanket as part of my belongings.”

“I want nothing of yours.”

“So coldly you speak, Becca. You know how your words wound me.”

“Words, as wounds, draw no blood,” she said, touching her swollen lip.

“Aye, but the cuts run deeper, all bleeding internal.”

“How does one bleed from bloodless veins?”

“Ah, bloodless because they’re filled with ichor.”

“Filled with muck.”

“I love thee.”

Rebecca laughed. “Do you know what you’ve become, cousin?
Old
. Though your belly is hard and your legs are strong, you’ve turned venal, cranky, malicious, and lecherous. You’ve not yet reached the middle age of thirty yet you act characteristically of old men in their forties and fifties. What has
happened
to you?”

“Ask instead what has happened to my wife.”

“Grace has borne you five children. She is entitled to a cushion of fat around her belly.”

“I find it repulsive.”

“So take on a mistress — discreetly. Grace expects such sport from a man of your stature. What she expects not, nor deserves, is your goatish eye, your frantic bedding of every lower-class wench that lifts her skirt.”

“You’ll understand what if feels like once you’re wedded to Miguel — to be married to a man whom you find lacking.”

“Tis the other way around. He has much to please the eye. It is
he
who finds
me
wanting. Just please God let us get to that state.”

“Who will warm your feet when your bed turns cold at night?”

“Not you.”

“I know that,” Dunstan said. “What I don’t understand is why. My love for you hasn’t changed. It’s your feelings that have grown so icy. Why?”

Rebecca didn’t answer.

“
Why,
Becca? It’s ripping out my heart.”

Rebecca said softly, “I grew up, Dunstan…. Try to understand, people change when they reach adulthood.”

He didn’t answer her, and she felt his sadness in his silence. But there was nothing she could do for him. And other things weighed heavier upon her mind. She asked,

“What will happen to Father?”

Dunstan felt his belly suddenly tighten, his stomach burn in its juices. “Don’t worry. We’ll buy his freedom.”

But his voice betrayed his lack of confidence.

She bit her lip and held back the tears.

Dunstan said, “So far as we could ascertain, neither Essex nor his spy master has definite proof of our dealings with the Spanish. He has acted solely on de Andrada’s word.”

“Where is the verminous scum?”

“De Gama, our Iberian spy, told us that he now resides in Amsterdam.”

“Does de Andrada know of ‘David’?”

“I suspect he does. How much I’m not certain. Speaking of what the enemy knows, exactly what does Shakespeare know?”

“He knows not of David.”

“Welladay,” Dunstan mocked. “The lady shows discretion.”

“Your tongue is not the flesh of wit, Dunstan, merely acid.”

“What a mouth you have.”

“I had to confess our mission to him. I told you that.”

“Your mother told you to tell him?”

“Mother told me to take Miguel’s note to you. If I couldn’t do it alone, she told me to take Shakespeare for protection.”

“I cannot believe that your mother told you to trust a Gentile.”

“I made a choice. The proper one, I say. I listened to my heart.”

“The heart is a foul organ.”

Rebecca shook her head. “It’s an instrument most sweet if played by nimble fingers.”

The road turned muddy, forcing the horses to slow their pace, the terrain dense with foliage as clusters of trees and brush thickened the grassy hillside. Nighttime shadows had begun to disappear as hints of dawn lightened the sky. But the air remained cold and Rebecca shivered. Dunstan wrapped her in his arms. She didn’t fight him off. Instead she took the reins of the horse and gave them a firm pull. “We’re falling behind Thomas and Shakespeare.”

“They seemed to be deeply engaged in conversation. Perhaps they moan their mutual lack of facial hair.”

“You taunt with no purpose, Dunstan,” Rebecca said. “One time you’ll bite hard into meat and find your teeth breaking on a bone.”

“My oh my.”

“Your brother is decent. And Shakespeare’s a most goodly and gentle man. Completely undeserving of the poison you gave him.”

Dunstan said nothing.

A moment later he said, “He’s almost
thirty,
Becca.”

“Twenty-nine. Your age, if I’m not mistaken.”

“His head is practically smooth—”

“You exaggerate.”

“He’s bald, Becca, and the hair on his chin equally as scant. What do you
see
in him?”