A Thursday Next Digital Collection: Novels 1-5 by Jasper Fforde Read Free Book Online

brightly. “Can I take a moment of your time?”
    I answered slowly:
    â€œIf you expect me to believe that a lawyer wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I must be dafter than I look.”
    The Baconian was not to be put off. He obviously liked fighting a poor argument; in real life he was most likely a personal accident barrister.
    â€œNot as daft as supposing that a Warwickshire schoolboy with almost no education could write works that were not for an age but for all time.”
    â€œThere is no evidence that he was without formal education,” I returned evenly, suddenly enjoying myself. Buckett wanted me to get rid of him but I ignored his gesticulations.
    â€œAgreed,” continued the Baconian, “but I would argue that the Shakespeare in Stratford was not the same man as the Shakespeare in London.”
    It was an interesting approach. I paused and Edmund Capillary took the opportunity to pounce. He launched into his well-rehearsed patter almost automatically:
    â€œThe Shakespeare in Stratford was a wealthy grain trader and buying houses when the Shakespeare in London was being pursued by tax collectors for petty sums. The collectors tracedhim to Sussex on one occasion in 1600; yet why not take action against him in Stratford?”
    â€œSearch me.”
    He was on a roll now.
    â€œNo one is recorded in Stratford as having any idea of his literary success. He was never known to have bought a book, written a letter or indeed done anything apart from being a purveyor of bagged commodities, grain and malt and so forth.”
    The small man looked triumphant.
    â€œSo where does Bacon fit into all this?” I asked him.
    â€œFrancis Bacon was an Elizabethan writer who had been forced into becoming a lawyer and politician by his family. Since being associated with something like the theater would have been frowned upon, Bacon had to enlist the help of a poor actor named Shakespeare to act as his front man—history has mistakenly linked the two Shakespeares to give added validity to a story that otherwise has little substance.”
    â€œAnd the proof?”
    â€œHall and Marston—both Elizabethan satirists—were firmly of the belief that Bacon was the true author of Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece. I have a pamphlet here which goes into the matter further. More details are available at our monthly gatherings; we used to meet at the town hall but the radical wing of the New Marlovians fire-bombed us last week. I don’t know where we will meet next. But if I can take your name and number, we can be in touch.”
    His face was earnest and smug; he thought he had me. I decided to play my trump card.
    â€œWhat about the will?”
    â€œThe will?” he echoed, slightly nervously. He was obviously hoping I wasn’t going to mention it.
    â€œYes,” I continued. “If Shakespeare were truly two people, then why would the Shakespeare in Stratford mention theLondon Shakespeare’s theater colleagues Condell, Heming and Burbage in his will?”
    The Baconian’s face fell.
    â€œI was hoping you wouldn’t ask.” He sighed. “I’m wasting my time, aren’t I?”
    â€œI’m afraid you are.”
    He muttered something under his breath and moved on. As I threw the bolt I could hear the Baconian knocking at the next door to ours. Perhaps he’d have better luck down the corridor.
    â€œWhat is a Litera Tec doing here anyway, Next?” asked Buckett as we returned to the kitchen.
    â€œI’m here,” I answered slowly, “because I know what he looks like; I’m not permanent in the least. As soon as I’ve fingered his man, Tamworth will transfer me back again.”
    I poured some yogurty milk down the sink and rinsed out the container.
    â€œMight be a blessing.”
    â€œI don’t see it that way. What about you? How did you get in with Tamworth?”
    â€œI’m antiterrorist usually.