Read Online An Ensuing Evil and Others by Peter Tremayne - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter Tremayne
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time the constable reached the Globe again.
He marched in past the sullen old doorman and examined the auditorium. The theater was not crowded. It being a bright summer Saturday afternoon, many Londoners were about other tasks than spending time in a playhouse. But there was a fair number of people filling several of the boxes and a small crowd clustering around the area directly in front of the stage. He noticed, in disapproval, the harlots plying their wares from box to box, mixing with fruit-sellers and other traders, from bakers’ boys and those selling all kinds of beverages.
Master Drew saw a worried-looking Cuthbert Burbage coming toward him.
“Where is Master Hawkins?” he demanded.
“Preparing for the second act,” replied the man in apprehension. “Master Constable, swear to me that you will not interrupt the play by arresting him, if he be in trouble?”
“I am no prophet, Master Burbage,” returned the constable, moving toward the area where the actors were preparing themselves to take their part upon the stage. He looked at them. What was the part that Hawkins was said to be playing—a cardinal? He picked out a man dressed in scarlet robes.
“Are you Master Hawkins?”
The actor raised a solemnly face and grimaced with contempt. “I am not, sir. I play Cardinal Wolsey. You will find Cardinal Campeius at the far end.”
This time there was no mistake. “Master Thomas Hawkins?”
The distinguished-looking cleric bowed his head. “I am yours to command, good sir.”
“And are you also Master Bardolph Zenobia?”
The actors face colored slightly. He shifted uneasily. “I admit to being the same man, sir.”
Master Drew introduced himself. “Did you know that Master Oliver Rowe has been discovered murdered?”
There was just a slight flicker in the eyes. “It is already whispered around the theater from your earlier visit, Master Constable.”
“When did you first learn of it?”
“Less than half an hour ago, when I came to the theater.”
“When did you last see Master Rowe?”
“Last evening.”
“Here, at this theater?”
“I was not in last nights performance. I went to stay with… with a lady in Eastcheap. I have only just returned from that assignation.”
“And, of course,” sneered the constable, “you would have no difficulty in supplying me the lady’s name?”
“None, good master. The lady and I mean to be married.”
“And she will be able to tell me that you were with her all night?”
“If that is what you require. But not just the lady but her father and mother, for she lives with them. They own the Boar’s Head in Eastcheap and are well respected.”
Master Drew swallowed hard. The alibi of a lady on her own was one thing, but the alibi of an entire respectable family could hardly be faulted.
“When last did you see Master Rowe?”
“It was after yesterday afternoon’s performance. Rowe asked me to go with him to a waterside tavern after the matinee performance. I had an appointment across the river before I went on to Eastcheap and could not long delay. But Rowe was insistent. We wound up by having an argument, and I left him.”
“What was the argument about?”
Hawkins’s color deepened. “A private matter.”
“A matter concerning Master Bardolph Zenobia’s literary endeavors?”
Hawkins shrugged. “I will tell you the truth. Rowe and a friend of his had written a pretty story. Rowe wanted help in finding a theater to stage it.”
“Why did he not take it to Burbage?”
“Sir, we are the King’s Men here. We have a program of plays of surpassing quality for the next several years from many renowned masters of their art, Master Shakespeare, Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, and the like. Master Burbage would not look at anything by a nameless newcomer. Rowe knew I had contacts with other theaters and gave me the script to read. The basic tale was commendable, but so much work needed to be done to revise it into something
He marched in past the sullen old doorman and examined the auditorium. The theater was not crowded. It being a bright summer Saturday afternoon, many Londoners were about other tasks than spending time in a playhouse. But there was a fair number of people filling several of the boxes and a small crowd clustering around the area directly in front of the stage. He noticed, in disapproval, the harlots plying their wares from box to box, mixing with fruit-sellers and other traders, from bakers’ boys and those selling all kinds of beverages.
Master Drew saw a worried-looking Cuthbert Burbage coming toward him.
“Where is Master Hawkins?” he demanded.
“Preparing for the second act,” replied the man in apprehension. “Master Constable, swear to me that you will not interrupt the play by arresting him, if he be in trouble?”
“I am no prophet, Master Burbage,” returned the constable, moving toward the area where the actors were preparing themselves to take their part upon the stage. He looked at them. What was the part that Hawkins was said to be playing—a cardinal? He picked out a man dressed in scarlet robes.
“Are you Master Hawkins?”
The actor raised a solemnly face and grimaced with contempt. “I am not, sir. I play Cardinal Wolsey. You will find Cardinal Campeius at the far end.”
This time there was no mistake. “Master Thomas Hawkins?”
The distinguished-looking cleric bowed his head. “I am yours to command, good sir.”
“And are you also Master Bardolph Zenobia?”
The actors face colored slightly. He shifted uneasily. “I admit to being the same man, sir.”
Master Drew introduced himself. “Did you know that Master Oliver Rowe has been discovered murdered?”
There was just a slight flicker in the eyes. “It is already whispered around the theater from your earlier visit, Master Constable.”
“When did you first learn of it?”
“Less than half an hour ago, when I came to the theater.”
“When did you last see Master Rowe?”
“Last evening.”
“Here, at this theater?”
“I was not in last nights performance. I went to stay with… with a lady in Eastcheap. I have only just returned from that assignation.”
“And, of course,” sneered the constable, “you would have no difficulty in supplying me the lady’s name?”
“None, good master. The lady and I mean to be married.”
“And she will be able to tell me that you were with her all night?”
“If that is what you require. But not just the lady but her father and mother, for she lives with them. They own the Boar’s Head in Eastcheap and are well respected.”
Master Drew swallowed hard. The alibi of a lady on her own was one thing, but the alibi of an entire respectable family could hardly be faulted.
“When last did you see Master Rowe?”
“It was after yesterday afternoon’s performance. Rowe asked me to go with him to a waterside tavern after the matinee performance. I had an appointment across the river before I went on to Eastcheap and could not long delay. But Rowe was insistent. We wound up by having an argument, and I left him.”
“What was the argument about?”
Hawkins’s color deepened. “A private matter.”
“A matter concerning Master Bardolph Zenobia’s literary endeavors?”
Hawkins shrugged. “I will tell you the truth. Rowe and a friend of his had written a pretty story. Rowe wanted help in finding a theater to stage it.”
“Why did he not take it to Burbage?”
“Sir, we are the King’s Men here. We have a program of plays of surpassing quality for the next several years from many renowned masters of their art, Master Shakespeare, Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, and the like. Master Burbage would not look at anything by a nameless newcomer. Rowe knew I had contacts with other theaters and gave me the script to read. The basic tale was commendable, but so much work needed to be done to revise it into something
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