The Bawdy Basket Read online

  ‘I respect your decision, Mistress Radley,’ said Nicholas politely. ‘I am not here in the vain hope of retaining Edmund’s services for Westfield’s Men. Mine is a much simpler request.’

  ‘In that case,’ decided Hoode, ‘speak on.’

  ‘You did promise to stay with us until the end of the month.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘While you are there, we still have a right to call on you.’

  ‘That was the undertaking I gave to Lawrence. I’ll play the parts assigned to me and do so to the best of my ability. It is the least I can offer to the company.’

  ‘Do you know what we perform on Tuesday, Edmund?’

  ‘The Merchant of Calais.’

  ‘My choice of all his plays,’ said Avice, clapping her hands together. She appraised Nicholas. ‘And I believe that you had a hand in its invention.’

  Nicholas was modest. ‘Edmund is the sole author, I assure you.’

  ‘Come, Nick,’ said the playwright graciously. ‘You were my inspiration.’

  ‘Providing inspiration is not the same as writing the piece.’

  ‘Writing is impossible without a creative spark and it was you who gave me that.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ agreed Nicholas, pleased to hear the warmth in his friend’s voice. ‘It is also my favourite of your plays, Edmund, because it carries so many echoes of my own family. I am glad that you think I have some claim to its authorship because that is what has brought me here today.’

  ‘What exactly do you wish Edmund to do?’ asked Avice.

  ‘Honour his contract with the company.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘He is not only obliged to take part in whatever we perform,’ said Nicholas, ‘he is also required to improve or make alterations to existing plays. That’s my embassy. I want some important changes made in The Merchant of Calais.’

  ‘But why, Nick?’ wondered Hoode.

  ‘Because it may be the one way to rescue the company from extinction.’

  ‘You see how easily it is done, Adam?’ he asked. ‘So much for the power of money.’

  ‘Or lack of money, Sir Eliard.’

  ‘Those who live on credit must face a day of reckoning.’

  Haygarth gave a brittle laugh. ‘It is now at hand for Lord Westfield.’

  They were in the upstairs room that Sir Eliard Slaney used as his counting house. The oak shelves that lined the walls were filled with ledgers and piles of documents. More tomes and sheaves of paper lay on the table. Sir Eliard was sitting in his high-backed chair while his visitor remained standing. Though he was pleased to hear the news, Justice Haygarth was not entirely persuaded that it would solve their problem.

  ‘Will this cunning device work, Sir Eliard?’

  ‘It has already worked, Adam,’ replied the moneylender. ‘Once I learnt that Lord Westfield was heavily in debt, I saw the way to bring his company down. Nicholas Bracewell will have no time to bother us while he is fighting to save his beloved company.’

  ‘What of Francis Quilter?’

  ‘He is no threat to us on his own. Besides, he has a contract with the troupe as well. If they call on all their reserves, they may summon him back to their bosom.’

  ‘But what happens then?’

  ‘They struggle in vain to survive,’ said Sir Eliard, gloating happily. ‘When I bring their patron down, they will fall apart. Nicholas Bracewell will have been taught the consequences of meddling with me. He’ll not trouble us further.’

  ‘I fear that he might.’

  ‘He’ll be too busy trying to find employment elsewhere.’

  ‘He’ll want revenge. So will Francis Quilter.’

  ‘They’ve no means to achieve it, Adam.’

  ‘They have great determination.’

  ‘That will be taken up with the battle to keep Westfield’s Men in existence. By the time that is over,’ said Sir Eliard airily, ‘they’ll have no stomach left to measure their strength against me. In any case, the trail will have gone cold. I’ll make sure of that.’

  Haygarth grinned. ‘You have thought of everything, Sir Eliard.’

  ‘That is a precept of mine.’

  ‘I would never have believed that you could bring the company to its knees.’

  ‘We have Cyril to applaud there. The irony is that he admires Westfield’s Men and would rather see them flourish than decline. He and his wife have watched them perform at the Queen’s Head. But he appreciates the need for our safety.’

  ‘It is paramount,’ said Haygarth.

  ‘That is why he gathered the necessary facts so quickly.’ Sir Eliard leafed through some of the papers on his table. ‘Here they are. Outstanding bills that show the full extent of Lord Westfield’s debts. He has borrowed from almost every moneylender in the city apart from me.’ He cackled dryly. ‘I have the sense to charge higher interest than they do. I also make sure that I only lend to people who can be made to pay. That is the beauty of these transactions, Adam. I made a profit before I even started.’

  ‘How, Sir Eliard?’

  ‘By offering to settle a debt while paying only half of the principle. They could not wait to take my money. Cash in hand is better than the promise of twice that amount if you know that the promise will never be honoured.’ He squinted up at his visitor. ‘We are in twin professions, Adam. The law and the lending of money have a kinship. In order to get the best results, we have to be merciless. Lord Westfield is like so many of his kind. He is an extravagant man without the money to sustain that extravagance. As long as there are enough fools to supply him with credit, he’ll continue his prodigal ways.’

  ‘Not any more, it seems.’

  ‘No, Adam. Even as we speak, Cyril is still calling on some of his creditors. Well,’ he said, spreading his arms. ‘It is Sunday, is it not? Are we not enjoined to give on the Sabbath? I have been more than liberal in the way I have dispersed my funds.’

  ‘Only to gain a higher return, Sir Eliard.’

  ‘Usury is an art.’

  ‘Nobody practises it with such consummate skill.’

  ‘That is what Nicholas Bracewell and his company will find out. They will be wiped from the face of London. Their patron will be disgraced and forced to surrender much of his property to me.’ He cackled again. ‘Is this not cleverly done, Adam?’

  ‘It has the lustre of brilliance.’

  Sir Eliard preened himself. ‘What a joyous time it is proving to be!’ he said. ‘I send a hated enemy to the gallows at Smithfield and then, when his son has the gall to pursue me in the name of justice, I destroy the company he belongs to and make a handsome profit into the bargain.’

  ‘There have been moments of apprehension,’ Haygarth reminded him.

  ‘Trivialities that were brushed aside.’

  ‘Moll Comfrey was more than a triviality, Sir Eliard.’

  ‘She was a bawdy basket of no account.’

  ‘Her evidence could have put us all behind bars.’

  ‘Only if it had been heard and believed.’

  ‘She was a serious threat to us.’

  ‘That is why I had her silenced.’

  ‘You swore that you’d have Nicholas Bracewell silenced as well.’

  ‘He deserved the same fate.’

  ‘What went wrong?’

  ‘He was not such easy game as the girl,’ admitted Sir Eliard. ‘But he will be utterly silenced now. We’ll hear no more from him while his company is in peril.’

  ‘Is he aware of what you have done?’

  ‘He will be very soon, Adam.’ He held up the sheaf of papers. ‘When I had enough power in my grasp, I sent Lord Westfield a courteous letter, warning him that I would need repayment of all outstanding debts within a month. It was such a pleasure to ruin his Sunday for him,’ he added with a grin. ‘I daresay that he will have passed on the tidings to Westfield’s Men by now.’

  ‘What will they do, Sir Eliard?’

  ‘The only thing they can do.’
/>   ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Shake in their shoes as Armageddon approaches.’

  Nicholas Bracewell was succinct. He gave them a concise but lucid description of the fate that confronted Westfield’s Men. He also explained why he believed that Gerard Quilter had been the victim of a cruel miscarriage of justice. Nicholas awaited their reaction. There was a guarded sympathy in Avice Radley’s face but Edmund Hoode was frankly outraged.

  ‘God’s mercy!’ he cried. ‘This knavish moneylender would destroy us?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Nicholas. ‘If we do not stop him, Sir Eliard Slaney will demolish all that Westfield’s Men stand for, including the excellence of Edmund Hoode’s plays.’

  ‘This is brutal vengeance indeed.’

  ‘That is why it must be resisted.’

  ‘I agree, Nick. We should fight to the death.’

  ‘But it is no longer your battle, Edmund,’ said Avice, putting a hand on his arm. ‘I am truly sorry to learn that the company may disappear. It has given me so much pleasure and, in bringing you into my life, it has earned my undying thanks. But you are bidding the company farewell.’

  ‘Not until the end of the month, Avice.’

  ‘That’s but a matter of days.’

  ‘Those few days may yet redeem the situation,’ argued Nicholas. ‘If Edmund follows my advice, we may still pluck ourselves from this disaster.’

  ‘Teach me how, Nick,’ said Hoode.

  ‘There is no point,’ challenged Avice.

  ‘Yes, there is.’

  ‘Let them manage on their own.’

  ‘They will do that when the month is up, Avice. Until then, it is only fair that I should do all that I can to help my fellows.’

  ‘Thank you, Edmund,’ said Nicholas. ‘All that I request is the use of your time.’

  Avice grew prickly. ‘Edmund’s time is devoted to me, sir.’

  ‘And rightly so, Mistress Radley. But did you not claim earlier that The Merchant of Calais was your choice of all his plays?’

  ‘I did. Its theme touches my heart.’

  ‘Would you not be proud, then, if that play – the one you most admire – were the means by which Westfield’s Men remained upon the stage to perform the rest of Edmund Hoode’s work? Think on it,’ said Nicholas. ‘Two hours upon the boards next Tuesday could decide our whole future.’

  ‘I fail to see how,’ she said.

  ‘Nor I, Nick,’ added Hoode.

  ‘Then let me explain,’ said Nicholas. ‘In the past few days I have learnt a great deal about Sir Eliard Slaney. He is a callous, unscrupulous, vindictive man who has forced many people into ruin and revelled in their plight. But he is also protective of his reputation. He’ll not have his name besmirched. Many people hate him but they are too frightened to put that hatred into words. Gerard Quilter had the courage to stand up to him in court and draw some blood from Sir Eliard. He paid dearly for that.’

  ‘So it appears,’ said Hoode.

  Avice nudged him. ‘Do not get involved in this, Edmund.’

  ‘These are my fellows, Avice.’

  ‘You are taking leave of them to be with me.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Hoode, ‘and I do so without regret. But I cannot desert them until this ogre has been vanquished. Go on, Nick,’ he urged. ‘Instruct me.’

  ‘Think of the characters in The Merchant of Calais,’ said Nicholas. ‘Is there not one who reminds you, if only slightly, of Sir Eliard Slaney?’

  ‘There is Pierre Lefeaux, who supplies the loans to the merchants.’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘But he is French and nowhere near as rapacious as this moneylender of ours.’

  ‘That is why I need to call on your pen,’ said Nicholas. ‘We change his nation from France to England, then we alter his name from Pierre Lefeaux to something more akin to that of our man.’

  ‘Sir Peter Lefoe, perhaps?’

  ‘We can be more precise than that, Edmund. And more insulting. Our audience will contain many people who know Sir Eliard by repute, and some who may have suffered at his hands. They will long to see him pilloried onstage.’

  ‘What name would you suggest?’

  ‘Sir Eliard Slimy.’

  Hoode laughed. ‘You have it, Nick! I’ll play the part myself.’

  ‘Then you must look and dress the way that he does, Edmund. I can help you there for I have seen the fellow. And the character must become more gross and disgusting,’ he insisted, ‘so that they are watching the real Sir Eliard upon stage.’

  ‘He’ll sue you for seditious libel,’ protested Avice.

  ‘That is our intent,’ replied Nicholas. ‘But before he can do that, he has to see and hear what The Merchant of Calais contains. If we let it be known that Sir Eliard is to be mocked and vilified at the Queen’s Head on Tuesday, the one person who will certainly be in the gallery is the moneylender himself.’

  ‘What will be achieved by that?’

  ‘His disgrace, Avice,’ said Hoode. ‘I’ll paint such a hideous portrait of him onstage that he’ll be ridiculed by all that see it.’

  ‘To what end?’ she asked sharply. ‘As the author of the piece, it is you who’ll be arraigned, Edmund. Bear that in mind. When we live together in the country, my wealth is at your disposal but I’ll not pay any damages imposed upon you in court.’

  Hoode was shocked. ‘Avice! You promised that we would share everything.’

  ‘Within certain limits.’

  ‘There was no talk of limits earlier.’

  ‘There was no possibility that you would go to prison then,’ she pointed out. ‘And that could easily happen if you write defamatory speeches about this man. What use are you to me if you are incarcerated in a cell?’

  ‘I looked for more understanding from you than this,’ said Hoode.

  ‘Edmund will not be taken to court,’ said Nicholas. ‘The changes to his play are but a device to ensure that Sir Eliard is out of his house on Tuesday afternoon. That is where the real evidence lies,’ he went on. ‘Locked away in his counting house. While he is enduring the gibes and the raillery at the Queen’s Head, we will be gathering the information that will send him and his confederates where they belong. In short, Edmund will have helped to lift the dire threat that hangs over the company.’

  ‘By heaven, I’ll do it, Nick!’ exclaimed Hoode.

  ‘Slow down,’ said Avice. ‘I am not sure that I agree.’

  ‘It is my bounden duty to help.’

  ‘Not when it may land you into trouble with the law.’

  ‘That will not happen, Avice. You heard what Nick said.’

  ‘I heard what he proposed,’ she replied, ‘but I am not convinced that you will meet with success. What if the evidence that is sought is not inside Sir Eliard’s house? The whole project then collapses around your ears. And there’s another point,’ she stressed. ‘You cannot solve one crime by committing another. Break into someone’s property and you break the law.’

  ‘It is a justified breach, Mistress Radley,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘No judge will view it that way.’

  ‘It is to expose a corrupt judge that we must do it.’

  ‘I’ll not condone a criminal act.’

  ‘I do not ask you to do so,’ said Nicholas, trying to mollify her. ‘This is a matter between Edmund and us. It need not concern you.’

  She became proprietary. ‘Everything about Edmund concerns me.’

  ‘Then please support him in a worthy cause.’

  ‘Nick is right,’ said Hoode, excited by the notion. ‘This way answers all. We not only expose Sir Eliard Slaney onstage for the avaricious snake that he is, we clear the name of a man who was unjustly executed.’

  ‘I do not accept that he was.’

  ‘Avice!’

  ‘It is all guesswork and hearsay.’

  ‘There was no guesswork involved when they tried to kill me,’ said Nicholas bluntly. ‘Why did Sir Eliard order my death if he had nothi
ng to hide? Here is the dagger that was commissioned for the purpose,’ he said, pulling it from his belt. ‘Sir Eliard already has to answer for the murders of Vincent Webbe and Moll Comfrey. My name came close to being added to the list of his victims.’

  ‘The evidence is overwhelming,’ pleaded Hoode. ‘You must accept it, Avice.’

  ‘All I accept is the promise you made in your sonnet.’

  ‘Nothing will change that.’

  ‘It will, if you ignore my counsel.’

  ‘What counsel?’

  ‘Keep clear of this whole business, Edmund,’ she decreed. ‘There are too many hidden dangers. I’ll not have you putting yourself at risk like this.’

  ‘Would you prefer me to let Westfield’s Men perish?’

  ‘Dismiss them from your mind.’

  ‘That’s heartless!’

  ‘It is politic,’ she said coldly. ‘Let me put it more plainly. A decision confronts you and you must think hard before you make it.’

  ‘Loyalty requires that I go to their aid.’

  ‘I demand that you do not.’

  Hoode was upset. ‘You would make such an unjust demand of me?’

  ‘You swore to be mine and mine alone,’ she insisted. ‘All that I do is to test the strength of that vow. Choose between Westfield’s Men and me. You cannot have both.’

  Lawrence Firethorn was still in a somnolent mood when he arrived home that evening. He felt like a condemned man awaiting execution. Lord Westfield was on the verge of bankruptcy, the company that bore his name was facing destruction and, during its final days, it would be hounded by the disagreeable landlord who had risen from his sick bed at the Queen’s Head. Of more immediate significance for Firethorn was the fact that his wife was in a state of hostility, brought on by his bungled attempt to entice Avice Radley. Professional ruin was allied to marital strife. When he reached Shoreditch, he went into the house with foreboding.

  Alone in the parlour, Margery gave him a frosty reception.

  ‘So, sir,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘you have dared to show yourself again.’

  ‘Do not chastise me further, my love. I have enough to bear, as it is.’