The Queen's Head by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston [Marston, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780312029708
Google: 0kGhPwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1890208450
Publisher: St Martins Pr
Published: 1987-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Eight

Nicholas Bracewell confronted him first thing the next morning.

'You must be mistaken,' said Creech bluntly.

'No, Ben.'

'I did not go to The Curtain yesterday.'

'But I saw you with my own eyes.'

'You saw someone who looked like me.'

'Stop lying.'

'I'm not lying,' maintained the actor hotly. 'I was nowhere near Shoreditch yesterday afternoon.'

'Then where were you?'

Creech withdrew into a defiant silence. His mouth was dosed tight and his jaw was set. Nicholas pressed him further.

'You were supposed to be here, Ben.'

'Nobody told me that,' argued the other.

'I told you myself—in front of witnesses, too—so you can't pretend that that never happened either. The tiremen were expecting you and you failed to turn up.'

'I…couldn't get here yesterday.'

'I know—you were at The Curtain instead.'

'No!' denied Creech. 'I was…' He glowered at Nicholas then gabbled his story. 'I was at the Lamb and Flag. I only went in for one drink at noon but I met some old friends. We started talking and had some more ale. The time just flew past. Before I knew what was happening, I fell asleep in my seat.'

'I don't believe a word of it,' said Nicholas firmly.

'That is your privilege, sir!'

'We'll have to fine you for this, Ben.'

'Do so,' challenged the hired man.

'One shilling.'

Creech's defiance turned to shock. One shilling was a steep fine to a person whose weekly wage was only seven times that amount. He had many debts and could not afford to lose such a sum. Nicholas read his thoughts but felt no regret.

'You've brought this upon yourself,' he stressed. 'When will you learn? I've covered for you in the past, Ben, but it has to stop. You simply must be more responsible. There are dozens of players to be had for hire. If this goes on, one of them may be taking over your place.'

'It's not up to you, Nicholas,' muttered Creech.

'Would you rather discuss it with Master Firethorn?'

'No,' he said after a pause.

'He would have kicked you out months ago.'

'I earn my money!'

'Yes, when you're here,' agreed Nicholas. 'Not when you're lying in a drunken stupor somewhere or sneaking off to The Curtain.'

'That was not me!'

'I'm not blind, Ben.'

'Stop calling me a liar!'

Creech bunched his fists and he breathed heavily through his nose. Discretion slowly got the better of him. The book holder might seem quiet but he would not be intimidated. If the occasion demanded it, Nicholas Bracewell could fight as well as the next man and his physique was daunting. Nothing would be served by throwing a punch.

'One shilling, Ben.'

'As you wish.'

'And no more of your nonsense, sir.'

Benjamin Creech risked one more glare then he withdrew to the other side of the tiring-house. The talk had sobered him in every sense. Samuel Ruff had watched the exchange from the other side of the room and he now came across to the book holder.

'What was all that about, Nick?'

'The usual.'

'Too much ale?'

'And too little honesty, Samuel. I saw the fellow at The Curtain yesterday in broad daylight—yet he denies it!'

'He may have good cause.

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