"Perhaps. But arc you not in the least bit curious what will come of it all?" asked Smythe.
"I have found, in general, that such curiosity can be decidedly unhealthy," Shakespeare said. "I have found so in particular since meeting you. In truth, I would have been perfectly satisfied to have remained completely in ignorance of the entire affair."
"And yet ‘twas your curiosity, in a manner of speaking, that led to it," said Smythe.
"My curiosity? However so?"
"You wanted to learn something of the Jews," said Smythe. "'Twas why we went to visit Ben Dickens in the first place, if you will recall."
"I was merely trying to learn something about them as a people, the better to enable me to write about a Jew, so that I would not do quite as laughable a job as Marlowe did."
"The audiences at The Jew of Malta were not laughing."
"Well, they should have been," Shakespeare replied. "That they were not merely goes to prove that they do not know any better."
"Be that as it may," said Smythe, "'twas still your curiosity that took us to Ben Dickens's shop, where we met Thomas, which was where this whole thing began."
"Aye, when you decided to stick your fine, peasant Saxon nose where it most certainly did not belong," countered Shakespeare.
"What, so then you are saying that 'twas all my fault?"
"'Twas merely your fault that we became involved," said Shakespeare with a sigh. "'Twas not your fault that Thomas Locke was killed. That, in all likelihood, had nothing at all to do with us and would have happened anyway. However, had you never spoken with him, or sought to counsel him, we could have gone on about our business in blissful ignorance of the poor lad's fate."
"Save that you would probably have spoken to him as soon as you had heard him say he was a Jew," said Smythe.
"Under the circumstances, I doubt very much I would have spoken to him," Shakespeare protested. "The poor lad was much distressed. 'Twould scarcely have been seemly for me to have subjected him to questions at such a time, much as I might have wished to."
"Nonsense. I know you, Will. You would have been unable to resist."
"Oh, I like that!" said Shakespeare, stopping in the middle of the drawbridge and placing his hands upon his hips. "Was I the one, then, who went running off at my mouth about love and elopement and what all?"
Several pedestrians brushed past and went around them quickly, hurrying with their heads down and the hoods of their cloaks up against the rain.
"Will, come on! 'Tis raining cats and dogs out here!"
"But I thought you loved walking in the rain?" said Shakespeare, still standing motionless with his hands upon his hips. "I thought the rain reminded you of your native bogs or some such thing."
"Forest," Smythe said. "'Twas a forrest not a bloody bog! And the trees provided a deal more shelter from the rain than do these buildings on this windswept bridge."
"Well, then I am simply going to stand here just like these bloody buildings until you admit that 'twas you who could not resist prattling away at Thomas and that therefore 'twas not my curiosity but your utter inability to keep your busy little mind on your own business that got us involved in all this in the first place!"
"Will…."
"Forget it! Save your breath! I am deaf to your protestations! I am not moving until you admit that you are in the wrong and being absolutely bullheaded about it!"
"Will…."
"And do not tell me again how hard it is raining! It may be raining hippogriffs and unicorns for all I care, but I am not going anywhere until you confess that you are—aüyeeee!"
He cried out as Smythe suddenly reached out with his left hand, seized him by his cloak, and yanked him forward roughly, nearly pulling him off his feet as he swung him around behind him. In almost the same motion, Smythe drew his rapier.
Half a dozen men stood only a few feet from where Shakespeare had been standing a moment earlier. All wore dark, hooded cloaks, wet from the rain, and all now produced serious-looking clubs from within the folds of those cloaks.
"Best move along, you men!" Smythe said to them sharply.
"You shall find no easy pickings here."
"Master Locke wishes to see you," a gruff voice said from behind them.