The Silent Woman by Edward Marston Read Free Book Online

be excused.’
    ‘Excused!’ repeated Firethorn. ‘Excused! Nick Bracewell being excused from Westfield’s Men! It is like excusing London Bridge from spanning the Thames. God’s death, man, you are our very foundation! Excuse you and we plummet straight down into a swamp of oblivion.’
    ‘The choice is forced upon me,’ explained Nicholas.
    ‘There
is
no choice. You are ours.’
    ‘My decision will hold.’
    ‘I override it. You leave with us on the morrow.’
    ‘It may not be.’
    Firethorn extended his arms. ‘We
rely
on you, dear heart!’
    ‘I will rejoin the company as soon as I may. You have my word on that. Thus it stands with me …’
    He recounted his story as succinctly as he could and Firethorn’s manner changed at once. Obsessed as he was with himself and with his company, the actor-manager could yet feel pangs of sympathy. The murder of a defenceless girl had laid a deep responsibility on Nicholas Bracewell and nothing would prevent him from discharging it. He was being forced to return to a home he left and a family he had renounced.
    ‘There is no other way,’ he said in conclusion. ‘Early tomorrow, I will set off for Barnstaple.’
    A derisive snort. ‘Barnstaple?’
    ‘Barnstaple.’
    Nicholas sat back and waited for the tempest to break. Few men dared to oppose the will of the actor-manager and fewer still survived with their self-esteem intact. When Firethorn was truly roused, his voice could blow with the force of a gale and his invective was scalding rain. As he looked into his employer’s eyes, Nicholas saw the hurricane begin with sudden fury and then evaporate harmlessly to be replaced by a merry twinkle. Instead of unleashing the whirlwind of his passion, Lawrence Firethorn actually smiled. The smile broadened into a grin, the grin enlisted the support of a chortle, the chortle soon developed into a full-throated laugh and then uncontrollable mirth sent his body into a series of convulsions. He had to sit down beside his friend to regain his breath.
    ‘Barnstaple?’ he asked again.
    ‘There is some jest here?’
    ‘No, Nick,’ said Firethorn, arm around his shoulders. ‘It is not the laughter of mockery but the happiness of relief. Barnstaple, indeed! Heaven provides better than we ourselves. You shall go. Your needs will be answered.’
    ‘Then why this celebration?’
    ‘Because you will serve us on the way.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘We will alter our itinerary,’ explained the other. ‘We had thought to go south and make Maidstone our first port of call. Then on to Canterbury and other towns in Kent, but they can wait. Canterbury has pilgrims enough.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper to put his proposition. ‘Westfield’s Men will bend a lot towards your purpose if you bend a little towards ours. Is this not a fair bargain?’
    ‘Tell me more that I may judge aright.’
    ‘Our patron’s brother lives in Bath.’
    ‘That is well in the direction of Barnstaple.’
    ‘Hear me out, Nick. This will be our route.’ He used a finger to draw a map in the air. ‘We make straight for Oxford and play before town and gown. From there we travel down to Marlborough, where they have always given us a cheerful welcome in their Guildhall. Then on to Bristol, where a bigger audience and a longer stay beckon.’
    ‘And Bath?’
    ‘A pretty enough little town but we will perform at the home of Sir Roger Hordley, younger brother of our patron. We need you to pilot us through Oxford, Marlborough and Bristol, but we can set up in the hall of Hordley Manor ourselves.’ He nudged his companion. ‘Have you caught my meaning?’
    ‘I make for Barnstaple by slower means.’
    ‘You combine our necessity with your mission.’
    Nicholas pondered. ‘It puts days on my intent.’
    ‘We make a sacrifice, so must you.’
    ‘Bristol is a city that I love.’
    ‘Take us there and we will wish you God speed as we send you off to Barnstaple. Discharge your duties at home then you may catch