“Odd’s blood, but you must truly be in earnest! Do you mean to turn husband, then?”
“Though I had often sworn the contrary, I daresay I would forswear myself if sweet Hera would agree to be my wife.”
“Good Lord! Has not the world but one man who will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Why do you come to me with this? Why not ask Master Peters to speak on your behalf, instead?” asked Dickens.
“I shall, indeed, ask him to speak for me. But Master Leonardo knows you better, and I could see that he held you in high respect.”
“You flatter me from selfish motives. I see you are a knave, sir.”
“Nay, Ben, truly____________________”
“Oh, very well then, thrust your neck into a yoke and wear the print of it if that is what you wish. I shall speak to Master Leonardo for you.”
“Who is this Master Leonardo, Ben?” asked Burbage.
“He is a merchant trader with his own ship, lately come from Genoa,” Dickens replied. “I sailed from the Netherlands with him. He has made his fortune in voyages to the New World and has now come to make his home in London.”
Burbage looked as if he might have had another question, but at that moment, their attention was distracted by all the noise coming from outside. The sounds of people shouting, screaming, and running rose rapidly outside on the street, followed by the sounds of hoofbeats clattering on the cobblestones.
“Another bloody riot,” Courtney Stackpole said gruffly, coming out from behind the bar with a thick adze handle in his hand. “If they break my windows once again, so help me, I’ll have somebody’s guts for garters!”
“It sounds as if the sheriffs men are riding them down to break it up,” said Fleming.
No sooner had he spoken than the front door was flung open with a bang and two tough-looking young men came stumbling in, out of breath from running. They slammed the door behind them and leaned against it, as if to hold off pursuit. One of them, Smythe noticed, was brandishing a club, while the other held a good-sized dagger.
2
I‘LL BE THANKING YE TO turn right around and haul your carcasses back out into the street, afore I break both of your heads open,” Stackpole said, in a voice that clearly brooked no argument.
The two apprentices glared at him belligerently, but his imposing presence m
ade them think twice about making any rude retorts. “We want no trouble, see?” one of them said. He smiled and made a show of sheathing his knife. He put his hands out to his sides, then nudged his pockmarked friend to drop his club. “Nice and peaceful, eh? We have no quarrel with you, Innkeeper, nor would we be wanting one. We’d just like to buy ourselves a pint or two now, with your kind permission, and then be on our way, right?”
Stackpole pointed at them with the adze handle. “A pint apiece,” he said gruffly, “and then be off with ye. And mind, I’ll be remembering your faces. If I get me windows broken once again, ‘tis you that I’ll be looking for.”
“Well now, what if ‘twasn’t us who broke ‘em then, eh?” the pockmarked apprentice said. Smythe noted that he had one of those unpleasant, sneering sorts of faces that wore a perpetual expression of insolent aggression.
“I suppose ‘twould add incentive then for you to persuade the other Steady Boys you run with to leave Master Stackpole’s windows well enough alone,” said Dickens.
They glanced toward him sharply, then Smythe saw recognition dawn on both their faces. “Well, smite me, if it ain’t Ben Dickens!” the first one said. Unlike his pockmarked friend, he was rather handsome in a pugnacious sort of way, with a thick shock of black hair and deeply set, dark eyes that glinted with insolent amusement.
“ ‘Allo, Jack,” said Dickens. “ ‘Allo, Bruce.”
“When did you get back, then?” asked Jack, approaching him.
“Only just this morning,” Dickens replied.
“Come back to visit some of your old friends, I see,” said Bruce, who seemed to have a whiney, spiteful tone no matter what he said. “But there were some old friends I suppose ye couldn’t be bothered with, eh?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Dickens replied. “I first went to pay my respects to Master Peters, as ‘twas only right and proper. ‘Twas there I encountered my new friend, Will Shakespeare here. Upon discovering that he had joined the Queen’s Men, my old company, why I at once informed him that I would next be coming here to pay them my respects. Now, had I encountered you and Jack first, then I might well have stopped by at your shop before ever coming here, although ‘twould seem from what I heard outside just now that I would not have found you there. Either way, lads, never let it be said that Ben Dickens would slight any of his old friends. Not even you, Bruce.”
“Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean then, eh?” asked Bruce, taking a step towards him belligerently. However, his fellow apprentice quickly intervened.
“It means that he remembers his old friends, Bruce. Just as he remembers still how easily you can be baited. Don’t get your back up. It’s just our old friend Ben, see?”
“Well, ‘tis growing late and I really should be going,” Corwin said, getting to his feet. “You will speak on my behalf to Master Leonardo, won’t you, Ben? You did promise.”
“I promised that I would and so I shall, my friend,” said Dickens, holding out his hand. As Corwin took it, he added, “And if my word bears any weight, why then, you may soon receive permission to go courting your young goddess, Hera. After that, why ‘tis up to you, entirely.”