The Vagabond Clown Page 14

  Gill choked back a reply, angry that the others were now siding with Mussett. Earlier in the day, none of them would speak a civil word to him yet now he was winning their regard. It was aggravating and Gill could no longer bear it. He looked around the taproom for his beast of burden.

  ‘George!’

  ‘Yes, Master Gill,’ replied Dart from a bench in the corner.

  ‘Take me to my room.’

  ‘The wounded dragon retires to its lair,’ mocked Mussett.

  ‘No more of that, Giddy,’ scolded Hoode. ‘You gave a promise to behave.’

  ‘And so I have, Edmund.’

  ‘Until the next contemptuous act,’ said Gill, using the crutch to get upright. ‘What will provoke it this time, Giddy? Female flesh, strong drink or your bellicose nature?’

  ‘None of them, Barnaby. I am reformed.’

  ‘Ha! You’ll tell me next that the Thames has run dry and that the Archbishop of Canterbury has turned highway robber. Reformed, are you?’ he asked, hopping out with Dart’s assistance. ‘You look the same pox-ridden botch of nature you’ve always been!’

  Everyone expected Mussett to respond to the gibe but he put back his head and laughed aloud. Tension eased considerably with Gill’s departure and Hoode was relieved. An altercation between the two clowns was something that had to be prevented. Apart from anything else, it encouraged the company to take sides and that would breed more antagonism. Hoode really wanted to believe that Mussett had now reformed. Watching the man carefully, he saw how abstemious he was. The others were drinking heavily but Mussett refused to touch any ale, contented simply to be back into the fold again and determined to honour his promises. When the book holder returned, Hoode would have good news to give to Nicholas Bracewell. He had done his duty. Going to the other end of the table, the playwright had a first glass of Canary wine with Firethorn. It had a delicious taste.

  When he reached his room, Barnaby Gill flicked Dart away without a word of thanks. Once again the clown was housed on the ground floor. Seeing his predicament, the landlord of the Blue Anchor had cleared out a room at the rear of the property for him and put in a truckle bed, a chair, a small table and a chamber pot. The wheelbarrow was also part of the furniture, standing incongruously below the single window. The room had once been a scullery and it preserved many aromatic memories of its former use. As he sank into the wheelbarrow, Gill was no longer aware of its compound of smells. He was preoccupied with a question that blocked out all else. How could he get rid of Giddy Mussett? How could he expose the man as the impostor he felt him to be? Gill had hoped that Mussett might save him the trouble by making himself such a liability to the company that they would oust him of their own accord. Evidently, that would not happen. Had any other hired man been guilty of Mussett’s reprehensible behaviour in Maidstone, he would have been dismissed instantly yet the obnoxious newcomer had been retained.

  The person to blame, he concluded, was Nicholas Bracewell. Blind to the fact that he was reclining in a moveable couch that the book holder had worked hard to create for him, Gill persuaded himself that Nicholas was in league with Mussett against him. Who had brought the vagabond into the company even though it meant paying his debts in order to get him out of prison? Who had proclaimed Mussett’s innocence when someone trapped Gill in the privy of a wayside inn? Who had absolved the clown for the second time when he was accused of tossing a cat through Gill’s window? Nicholas Bracewell. Both outrages bore the hallmark of Giddy Mussett yet he was called to account for neither. That would only encourage him to inflict further humiliations on Gill. It was time to get his revenge. If nobody else would hound Mussett from the company, then Gill would have to do it himself. He began to speculate on the best means of doing it.

  Deep in thought and simmering with anger, he was deaf to all sound. When the door inched open behind him, he was still devising harsh punishments for his rival. The attack was swift. A sack was dropped over Gill’s head then a rope encircled his chest. Before he had stopped spluttering with shock, he found himself tied securely to the support at the back of the wheelbarrow. When he tried to yell for help, a handful of sack was pushed into his mouth and bound into position by a piece of cloth. Worse was to follow. Unable to move or protest, Gill found himself being wheeled out of the room and down a couple of stone steps. He was being abducted from the inn.

  Nicholas Bracewell was away for much longer than he had anticipated. Having met an old friend and his daughter, he was pressed by Sebastian Frant to meet the scrivener’s brother. Curiosity took him to the cottage but fascination kept him there. Though David Frant was a sick man, his memory was still tenacious. He talked about the changes he had seen over the years in Faversham and remembered how appalled the whole town had been at the murder of Thomas Arden. Forty years on, the crime still had a resonance.

  What intrigued Nicholas most was the description of the port’s naval history. David Frant was well-informed. When he heard that Nicholas had once sailed with Drake on the circumnavigation of the globe, he was only too eager to furnish him with details of the town’s past. Though not one of the designated Cinq Ports, Faversham was a corporate member, being a limb of Dover and therefore charged with responsibilities of naval defence. Nicholas learnt that, two years before the Spanish Armada sailed, the town had fitted out a ship of fifty tons at a cost of four hundred pounds, supplementing it in Armada year itself with the Hazard, a vessel of forty tons.

  Sebastian Frant was sorry when Nicholas finally bade them farewell. His brother invited him to come back at any time he chose. Impressed by Nicholas’s record as a sailor, Thomasina joined her father at the door to wave their friend off. With his mind still bubbling with naval history, Nicholas walked back towards the Blue Anchor. His route took him along the bank of the creek. He was strolling happily along when he saw an alarming sight. Drifting towards him on the evening tide, and spinning helplessly to and fro, was a rowing boat with a most unusual passenger. He was sitting upright in a wheelbarrow, trussed up with a sack over his head. The man’s body was writhing madly as he fought to escape his bounds and attract help. Nicholas felt the searing pain of recognition. It was Barnaby Gill.

  Chapter Ten

  It was no time for hesitation. In trying to struggle free, Barnaby Gill was in grave danger of turning over the boat and, although there were a few curious onlookers on both banks of the creek, none of them seemed inclined to go to the rescue of the man in the sack. Nicholas Bracewell did not pause to goggle at the strange sight. Peeling off his jerkin, he dived into the water and swam powerfully towards the boat. As if suddenly awakened to the peril of the situation, the people watching shouted encouragement to Nicholas and urged the occupant of the boat to stop rocking it. Even if he heard it, Gill paid no attention the advice, twisting and turning in a futile attempt to get free and making the boat rock so much that it began to take in water. When Nicholas reached it, the vessel was bobbing about wildly. He took a firm grip on the stern and gave his command.

  ‘Sit still!’ he yelled. ‘You’ll turn the boat over.’

  Recognising his voice, Gill obeyed at once and stopped moving. The boat ceased to rock so violently but it dipped towards the stern as Nicholas hauled himself aboard. Water dripped off him in rivulets. Spreading his feet to maintain his balance, he used his dagger to slit through the rope and through the gag that had silenced Gill so effectively. Nicholas lifted the sack carefully up to reveal a man on the verge of collapse. Wide-eyed and red in the face, Gill was too shaken even to speak. He blubbered incoherently. Nicholas put a comforting arm around him and assured him that he was now safe. Gill slowly calmed down.

  The boat was still drifting downriver. When he was satisfied that his passenger was not seriously hurt, Nicholas slid the oars out from under the wheelbarrow and fitted them into their rowlocks. He soon established control over the vessel and was able to turn it around and row back in the direction of the Blue Anchor. Soaked to the skin, he ignored his own discomfort in favour of
Gill’s needs. The man was deeply shocked. It was important to get him back on dry land where he could recover from his ordeal. To his credit, Gill’s first words expressed his gratitude.

  ‘Thank you, Nicholas,’ he said, still shivering with fright. ‘You saved my life.’

  ‘We’ll soon be ashore.’

  ‘I might have ended up in the water and drowned.’

  ‘That was my fear,’ said Nicholas. ‘I thank God that I reached you in time.’

  ‘I’ve never known such horror.’

  ‘Who did this to you?’

  ‘Who else?’ sneered Gill. ‘Giddy Mussett.’

  ‘Can you be certain?’

  ‘As certain as I am of anything.’

  ‘Did you see Giddy?’

  ‘I had no time to see anyone,’ complained Gill. ‘The rogue came up behind me and threw that sack over my head. What they kept in it, I know not but it had a foul smell. Before I could resist, I was tied and gagged then wheeled out of my room.’

  ‘By one person?’ asked Nicholas. ‘Or was someone else involved?’

  ‘I only heard one pair of feet.’

  ‘And you think they belonged to Giddy?’

  ‘I know that they did, Nicholas! He tried to kill me.’

  ‘I beg leave to doubt that.’

  ‘You saw the way I was trussed up,’ said Gill, pointing to the rope. ‘Once in the water, there would have been no hope for me. He wanted me to drown.’

  ‘It looks as if someone may have had that intention,’ conceded Nicholas.

  ‘Yes – Giddy Mussett.’

  ‘But I left Edmund and Owen to watch over him.’

  ‘Then they failed in their duty.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe. Giddy might elude one pair of eyes, but not two.’

  ‘I want him arrested.’

  ‘We need proof that he was the culprit first.’

  ‘He is Giddy Mussett,’ cried Gill, ‘and that is all the proof that you need. I want him arrested, Nicholas. Arrested and charged with attempted murder!’

  By the time that the two of them reached the jetty, a small crowd had gathered. There was a smattering of applause for Nicholas and some shouts of congratulation. He had displayed true bravery in rescuing Gill from his plight. Willing hands helped to steady the boat and moor it to an iron ring. The wheelbarrow was too heavy to lift with its occupant in place so Gill had to be eased gently ashore by Nicholas. When the wheelbarrow was pulled out of the boat, Gill was still so jangled that he agreed without protest to get back into it. Someone had brought the jerkin that had been discarded on the bank. After thanking the man for returning it to him, Nicholas put it around Gill’s shoulders before wheeling him off. He squelched his way towards the Blue Anchor.

  As they approached the inn, they were seen from the window and several members of the company came rushing out to meet them. When he noted that Mussett was among them, Gill went berserk, pointing a finger and screeching abuse. For his part, Mussett was a picture of innocence. Lawrence Firethorn was the first to step forward.

  ‘What happened, Nick?’ he asked.

  ‘Giddy set me adrift in a boat,’ replied Gill, shaking a fist at his rival. ‘If Nicholas had not come to my aid, I would surely have drowned.’

  Firethorn turned on Mussett. ‘Is this true?’ he growled.

  ‘No,’ said Mussett. ‘On my honour.’

  ‘You have no honour,’ snarled Gill.

  Nicholas took control. ‘There is no point in arguing out here,’ he said. ‘Master Gill has been through a harrowing experience and needs rest. Take him to his room, George, and fetch some wine to soothe him.’

  ‘All that will soothe me is the sight of Giddy, hanging from the nearest tree!’

  ‘Do as I say, George.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dart, grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow to push it away.

  ‘Look at the state of you, Nick,’ said Firethorn.

  ‘Someone had to dive in.’

  ‘Change into dry clothing and we’ll hear the full story.’

  ‘I long to hear it myself,’ said Nicholas, throwing a suspicious glance at Mussett. ‘I sincerely hope that the tale does not involve you, Giddy.’

  Mussett was defensive. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of Barnaby’s ordeal,’ he said. His face split into a grin. ‘But I tell you this. Had I known what straits he was in, I’d have come out here to enjoy watching him.’

  ‘No more of that talk!’ snapped Firethorn, grabbing him by the throat. ‘Barnaby is in great distress. If I find that you had a hand in it, I’ll be judge, jury and executioner. Do you understand, Giddy?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’

  ‘Then hold your peace.’

  Firethorn pushed him away then walked back towards the inn with Nicholas and the others. Ten minutes later, the book holder had dried himself off, changed into fresh attire and joined the actor-manager in his room. Giddy Mussett was also there along with a crestfallen Edmund Hoode and an embarrassed Owen Elias. Having failed to frighten a confession out of him, Firethorn stopped trying to browbeat Mussett.

  ‘You talk to him, Nick,’ he said with exasperation, ‘and I hope you have more success than I did. I can get nothing from Giddy. It’s easier to get blood from a stone.’

  Mussett hunched his shoulders. ‘I never touched Barnaby.’

  ‘We’ll look into that in a moment,’ said Nicholas. ‘First, I want to hear from Edmund and Owen. They were meant to keep you where they could see you.’ He looked at the pair of them. ‘Is that not what happened?’

  ‘Yes, Nick,’ said Elias, shifting his feet. ‘I did my share.’

  ‘And I, mine,’ said Hoode, ‘until I went into the taproom.’

  ‘What then?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘I thought that Owen would take over from me.’

  ‘Nick asked you to stand guard, Edmund,’ said Elias.

  ‘Only while Giddy was asleep.’

  ‘Yet you came into the taproom with him.’

  ‘And you should have done your share of the work then, Owen.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Nicholas, interrupting them. ‘Are you telling me that one or both of you allowed Giddy out of your sight?’

  ‘It was Edmund’s fault,’ said Elias.

  Hoode flared up. ‘Owen is to blame.’

  ‘They’re both at fault, Nick,’ said Firethorn, ‘and so am I, for all three of us shared a cup of wine together. One minute, Giddy was there; the next, he was gone.’

  ‘For how long?’ wondered Nicholas.

  ‘It’s difficult to say.’

  ‘Did no one search for him?’

  ‘I did,’ said Elias, jabbing his chest. ‘No sooner did I step outside the taproom than I saw Giddy coming towards me. He might only have been away for a moment.’

  Nicholas turned to the clown. ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Nature called,’ replied Mussett.

  ‘How long were you away?’

  ‘How long do such things take you, Nick?’

  ‘Do not jest with me, Giddy.’

  ‘It was no jest. I am in deadly earnest.’

  ‘Can you swear that you did not go to Barnaby’s room?’

  ‘On the biggest Bible in Christendom.’

  ‘You’ve lied to us before,’ said Nicholas. ‘Why should we believe you now?’

  ‘I’m not asking you to believe me,’ replied Mussett, ‘because I know that my word will be doubted but you may believe someone else. I have a witness.’

  ‘A member of the company?’

  ‘No, Nick. Yet someone who will prove my innocence.’

  ‘Can you produce this person?’

  ‘Instantly,’ said Mussett, moving to the door. ‘Have I your permission?’

  ‘Let me go with him,’ suggested Elias, trying to make up for his earlier lack of vigilance. ‘We want no more of his trickery.’

  ‘He can go alone,’ said Nicholas. ‘Be quick about it, Giddy.’

  Mussett left the room and closed the d
oor behind him. Firethorn was worried.

  ‘I think he’s guilty,’ he decided.

  ‘Let’s hear his witness first.’

  ‘I doubt if there is such a person, Nick. This has to be Giddy’s doing. He and Barnaby were jousting earlier on. I had to part them. Barnaby’s tongue was dagger-sharp enough to draw Giddy’s blood. It may have goaded him to take revenge.’

  ‘Even Giddy would surely not go that far,’ reasoned Nicholas. ‘He would never expect to get away with it. If he wheeled Barnaby down to that boat, he would certainly have been seen. There were people around the creek.’

  ‘Do you feel that he’s innocent?’ asked Hoode, ‘or do you hope that it is so?’

  ‘Both, Edmund.’

  ‘Then you have to answer another question.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nicholas. ‘If Giddy was not guilty of this, then who was?’

  Elias sighed. ‘He was the only one who left the taproom.’

  ‘That does not put the halter of blame around his neck, Owen. He was accused of locking Barnaby in that privy, of hurling a cat in through his window. I was with Giddy when both those things occurred. He did neither.’

  ‘No,’ said Firethorn. ‘He was saving himself for a more serious assault.’

  ‘I wonder. Giddy was himself the victim of assault on the road here. Back at the Queen’s Head, it was the whole company who suffered. Do you not see a pattern here?’ asked Nicholas, thinking it through. ‘Someone is trying to destroy our work. First, they have us turned out of our home. Then they ambush our clown. And now, they try to dispatch Barnaby to a watery grave. We have an unseen enemy.’

  ‘Tobias Fitzgeoffrey?’

  ‘Someone connected with Conway’s Men, perhaps.’

  ‘How would they know when to attack Barnaby?’ said Elias.

  ‘Because they were more alert as sentries, Owen. They watched Giddy more carefully than you and seized their chance when he left the room. There’s craft at work here,’ concluded Nicholas. ‘Suspicion was thrown on to Giddy.’