The Vagabond Clown (17 page)

‘But it will not be,’ said Gill, folding his arms defiantly.

‘With you in the cast, we could even play
The Loyal Subject
.’

‘I have another suggestion,’ said Nicholas. ‘Let’s put a tragedy aside and give them homespun humour instead. After the dark deed in the stables, our fellows need a comedy to lift their spirits.
The Foolish Friar
meets all objections. It’s a light piece on a serious subject. Our friar will look even more foolish if the only way that he can move about is in a wheelbarrow.’

‘The perfect play,’ said Hoode. ‘It lends itself to change and variation.’

‘Not on my account,’ affirmed Gill. ‘I am too unwell to act.’

‘Then we harp on that,’ said Nicholas. ‘Give the foolish friar a whole array of ailments, Edmund. To his broken leg, add a bad back, a diseased liver, a sore throat, a high fever and a choleric disposition.’

Firethorn laughed. ‘Barnaby already has that!’

‘I’ll not be a foolish friar,’ said Gill.

‘You’ll be a foolish friar, a wise virgin or a statue of Venus, if we ask it. You have a contract with us,’ said Firethorn, ‘and it obliges you to act what we decide. There is no mention of a broken leg anywhere in its terms. Were you stricken down with sleeping sickness, we could still enforce the contract.’

‘Besides,’ said Hoode, adopting a softer approach, ‘you would not let us suffer the humiliation of having to cancel a performance. Think how your fellows would welcome your return, Barnaby? They’d be eternally grateful to the man who came to our rescue. Our reputation is in your hands.’

‘One thing more,’ said Nicholas. ‘Giddy must be borne in mind. Though he was with us such a short time, he left his imprint on the company. For his sake, we must not abandon a performance. Giddy would have expected us to go on. It would be a way to honour his memory.’

Gill was weakening. ‘
The Foolish Friar
is a good play. I like it.’

‘Share that pleasure with an audience.’

‘Who would push me in the wheelbarrow?’

‘Anyone you choose. George Dart, perhaps?’

‘No, not on stage,’ said Gill. ‘He’s too weak and clumsy for that. I need someone strong enough to move me around without bumping into the scenery.’

‘Owen Elias, it shall be,’ said Nicholas. ‘Strong and sensible.’

Hoode’s mind was racing. ‘We’ll have a song that the pair of you can sing together,’ he said, ‘for Owen has the best voice of us all. And in place of your dance, he can spin you around the stage to music. That wheelbarrow is a godsend.’

‘Well, Barnaby,’ asked Firethorn. ‘What do you say now?’

‘It might work,’ said Gill pensively.

‘You’d become our hero.’

‘Which would you rather do?’ said Nicholas. ‘Sit on a bench to watch a play or ride in a wheelbarrow and take part in it?’

Gill smacked the table. ‘I’ll do it!’

The landlord of the inn was saddened by what had happened. Murder on his premises would leave its taint for a long time. Like the people he employed, he went about his chores with far less enthusiasm that evening. Most of them did not know Giddy Mussett well enough to grieve for him, but they felt the effects of his death. Some customers were drawn to the Blue Anchor by ghoulish curiosity but the murder frightened many regular patrons away. It was the actors who kept the cooks and the servingmen busy, eating to assuage their appetites and drinking to relieve their sorrow.

There was one person who knew the deceased well. Kate Humble had a special place in her heart for Mussett. A friendship that had begun on his previous visit to the town had been revived instantly when she saw him, even though his face had been battered in a brawl. In their brief moments together, he had given her more pleasure and amusement than she had enjoyed in a whole year. Unlike the other kitchen maids, Kate could not simply work on as if nothing had happened. Pleading sickness, she withdrew to the tiny attic room that she shared at night with three others. There she could give free reign to her emotions, remembering the times she had enjoyed with Mussett and savouring some of the things he had said to her. Treasured memories made her smile through her tears. It pained her to think that she would never see him again.

Kate was still weeping copiously when there was a knock on the door. Fearing that it might be the landlord, she dried her tears with her apron. There was a second tap.

‘Come in,’ she said, biting her lip to hold back another fit of weeping.

The door opened and Nicholas Bracewell put his head around it.

‘I was told that you were ill,’ he said. ‘I came to see how you were.’

She was touched. ‘That’s very kind of you, sir.’

‘Giddy was a friend of mine. I know that you loved him, too.’

‘He was the best man in the world,’ she said as fresh
tears flowed. ‘Forgive me, sir. I cannot help it. The thought of how he died distresses me so much.’

‘And me, Kate.’

‘Who but a madman could want to kill Giddy?’

‘I mean to find out,’ he assured her.

‘He spoke well of you,’ she said, wiping away her tears once more. ‘Nick Bracewell let me out of prison – that’s what he told me. I know that he did bad things sometimes, sir, but think well of him.’

‘I always will.’

She studied him through moist eyes as if trying to decide if she could trust him. Nicholas caught a whiff of guilt that was mingled with fear. He sensed that she had something to tell him but he did not rush her. He gave her a consoling smile.

‘Is there anything we can do for you?’ he asked.

‘Oh, sir, You do not have to bother about me. I am just a kitchen maid.’

‘Giddy thought you much more than that.’

Her face brightened. ‘Yes, he did. That’s why I loved him.’

‘Were you surprised to see him back in Faversham again?’

‘No,’ she said proudly. ‘He promised me he’d come back to see me one day. Though he did not tell me that his face would be quite so bruised.’

‘Did he say how he came about his injuries?’

‘By falling down some steps when he was drunk.’ She laughed merrily. ‘Giddy was always too fond of his ale but I did not hold that against him.’ Kate brushed away a last
tear with a knuckle then met his gaze. ‘Can I trust you, sir?’ she asked.

‘I hope so, Kate.’

‘If I tell you something, will you promise me I will not get into trouble?’

‘That depends what it is.’

‘Giddy made me do it.’

‘Do what, Kate?’

There was an awkward pause. ‘Lie for him,’ she confessed.

‘What sort of lie did you tell?’

‘You will be angry when you know, sir.’

‘No,’ said Nicholas quietly. ‘If it concerns Giddy, I’ll not be angry. I know he had his vices, Kate, but they made him what he was. I’ll bear him no ill will.’ He took a step closer to her. ‘Tell me about this lie.’

‘He did do it, sir,’ she said, blurting the words out. ‘He did put a sack over that man’s head and wheeled him to the creek. I found him the sack in the kitchen. I also got him an apron and a cap so that Giddy looked like a servingman. There was no intent to harm the man,’ she insisted. ‘All that Giddy wanted to do was to frighten him. There were people about and he was sure that someone would rescue him. In the end, you were the one who did it. Giddy was glad of that.’

‘Did he say
why
he put Master Gill in that boat?’

‘It was but a jest, sir, like the others.’

‘Others?’ repeated Nicholas.

‘Giddy told me what he did. In one place, he paid an
ostler to lock Master Gill in the privy. In Maidstone, he bribed a lad to throw a black cat in through the window where his enemy slept. Giddy had an excuse each time.’

‘
You
were his excuse here at the Blue Anchor.’

‘And I was glad to be it,’ she said. ‘Until now. Are you angry, sir?’

‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘I’m not angry, Kate.’

‘But I lied to you and the others.’

‘You were protecting a man you loved, that is all. The important thing is that the truth has now come out. To be honest, I am relieved.’

‘Because Giddy played a trick on Master Gill?’

‘In a sense, yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘I thought it might be the work of another man and that alarmed me. It was a cruel jest that could have led to serious harm. Giddy was wrong to do such a thing. But I do not hold it against you, Kate.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, clutching at him. ‘You are so kind.’

‘I just wish to find the man who killed him. That’s why I’m grateful for any information that helps me to do that. What you’ve just said has been very useful. It explains things that puzzled me.’ He squeezed her hands in gratitude. ‘Giddy was not a rich man, as you know. He leaves a poor bundle of things behind.’

‘He was rich in the things that mattered, sir.’

‘I know,’ said Nicholas. ‘We have no use for his belongings but there may be something there that you could have as a keepsake.’ Her face lit up again. ‘Would you like to take something of your choice?’

‘Yes, please!’ she said with alacrity.

Bursting into tears again, she flung herself into his arms.

Sebastian Frant sat in the parlour of the cottage with his brother. Supper was over and both Thomasina and her aunt had retired early to bed. The two men were alone. David Frant lit a pipe and puffed away at it before speaking.

‘It is so good to see you both, Sebastian,’ he said.

‘We should have come to Faversham long before now.’

‘You must visit us, brother, for I am not able to travel to Dover.’

‘What does the doctor say?’

‘That I’m afflicted with an incurable disease. It is called old age.’

‘You are not that much older than me, David.’

‘I never enjoyed your rude health.’

‘You did,’ said Frant, trying to cheer him up. ‘And whatever the doctor says, you’ll last many years yet.’

‘I doubt that, Sebastian.’

Privately, so did Frant. He had been distressed to see how much his brother had declined since his last visit. His condition could not be ascribed solely to the passage of time. Some malady was slowly eating him away. David Frant had hollow cheeks, lacklustre eyes and a body that seemed to have shrunk in upon itself. When he had a sudden fit of coughing, it was minutes before he was able to speak again.

‘Forgive me, Sebastian,’ he said at length. ‘This tobacco will ruin me.’

‘It gives you pleasure and that is all that matters.’

‘I get little of it elsewhere, I know that.’

A knock on the door made both men sit up. The servant girl went to see who it was and voices were heard in the passageway. A visitor was then shown into the parlour. Nicholas Bracewell was profuse in his apologies for intruding at that time of the evening but both men were pleased to see him. Frant pumped his arm in greeting. His brother indicated a chair and Nicholas sat down.

‘Do you wish to hear more about the history of Faversham?’ he asked.

‘Another time,’ said Nicholas. ‘I come on an errand to see Sebastian.’

‘What kind of errand?’ asked Frant.

‘A sad one, I fear.’

Nicholas lowered his voice and told them about the murder of Giddy Mussett. David Frant was dismayed but his brother, who had seen Mussett on stage, was quick to gauge the loss involved.

‘But the fellow was a genius, Nick,’ he said. ‘Thomasina and I laughed at him until we were in pain. This is a terrible blow for Westfield’s Men.’

‘We are still dazed by it, Sebastian.’

‘What will you do?’

‘That is what I’ve come to tell you. We need your help.’

‘How can I be of any assistance?’ said Frant. ‘I can be a fool at times, as David here will tell you, but I’m no clown. Do not look to me to replace Giddy Mussett. I doubt if any man in England could do that.’

‘Happily, there is such a person.’

‘Who?’

‘Barnaby Gill.’

Frant was amazed. ‘But he has a broken leg.’

‘That will not hold him back in our hour of need.’

Nicholas explained how they proposed to overcome Gill’s disability and drew approving comments from both men. David Frant was so amused by the notion of a foolish friar in a wheelbarrow that he resolved to see the play himself. His younger brother was still bewildered.

‘What must I do, Nick?’ he said. ‘Push the wheelbarrow?’

‘A pen is all that we ask you to push, Sebastian. Thus it stands,’ said Nicholas, taking some sheets of paper from inside his jerkin. ‘Edmund has written a new scene for the play and a couple of new songs. His hand still shakes with grief at the loss of Giddy. You’ll see how he scribbles. We’d prefer a scrivener to make the words legible.’

‘But I do not know this play. What is it called?’

‘
The Foolish Friar
. A harmless comedy.’

‘One of Edmund’s pieces?’

‘No, Sebastian. It’s the work of another playwright but he is not here to make the changes that we require. Edmund will do that. He is a master cobbler.’ He held up the sheets of paper. ‘It has taken him only a few hours to produce these.’

‘You must help them, Sebastian,’ urged his brother. ‘They need you.’

‘And we’ll gladly pay you for the work,’ said Nicholas.

‘I’d not dream of charging you a penny,’ replied Frant, taking the papers from him to glance through them. ‘It will
take me far less to copy these songs than it took Edmund to create them. Thank you for calling on me. I’m delighted to aid you.’

‘That’s what I told the others.’

‘It would have been impossible for me to refuse.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I have a daughter to answer to,’ said Frant. ‘When we heard that Westfield’s Men were in Maidstone, I promised Thomasina that she would see the finest clown who ever appeared on a stage. She was disappointed to learn that Barnaby Gill was unable to take part even though he had a worthy substitute.’

‘Barnaby will now substitute his own substitute,’ said Nicholas.

‘Quite so. What would Thomasina say if I did not assist him willingly?’ He held up the papers. ‘I’ll deliver these to the Blue Anchor tomorrow morning with a set so crystal clear that even a blind man could read them.’

The rehearsal that morning went badly. Conway’s Men were never less than competent on stage but never more than entertaining. They seemed to lack commitment and went about their work with a sense of obligation rather than dedication. As they rehearsed the play that they would perform in Canterbury that afternoon, they fell short of even their own modest standards. Tobias Fitzgeoffrey was sarcastic.