responsible and put an end to the foul messages he was leaving at the churchyard. Owen agreed to help me. But what happened to him last night,’ he added rapidly, ‘has no connection to the arrest we made. If someone really sought revenge,
I
would have been the person they attacked, not Owen. He did not even touch the fellow. It was I who fought with him.’
‘Then you are in danger as well.’
‘There
is
no danger, Anne. Put the whole thing out of your mind. Owen was set on by some thieves, that is all.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. That’s the end of the story.’
Anne was not so certain but she did not press the matter. She glanced across at Elias again, making light of his injuries in front of the others but evidently in pain. When she turned back to Nicholas, he was gazing contemplatively out across the sea. Rolling waves seemed to stretch to infinity.
‘I wonder if they have an
English
Churchyard there,’ he said.
‘Where?’
‘In Elsinore.’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘When we get to Denmark,’ he pointed out, ‘we will know how it feels to be the outsiders –
we
will be the strangers.’
Lord Westfield occupied a small cabin below deck in the stern of the ship. It was tidy, compact and equipped with solid oak furniture. Ensconced in a chair, he sipped a cup of wine and discussed plans with Lawrence Firethorn and Rolfe Harling.
‘Life is full of surprises,’ he observed genially. ‘A month ago, I would never have dreamt that I would one day be sailing to Denmark to meet my young bride.’
‘We, too, have been swept away by the tide of events, my lord,’ said the actor. ‘But for that fire, we would still be entertaining our audiences at the Queen’s Head.’
‘Instead of which, you will play before royalty.’
‘We intend to conquer the whole of Denmark.’
‘Your journey may not end there, Master Firethorn,’ said Harling, knowledgeably. ‘When an English company visited the court ten years or more ago, they were sent on to Dresden to earn even more plaudits. King Frederick II also recommended them to the Elector of Saxony and word of their excellence spread.’
‘That’s encouraging to hear, Master Harling.’
‘Expecting to stay weeks, they remained abroad for months.’
‘Oh, I do not think that my wife would approve of that,’ said Firethorn with a chuckle. ‘If I stay away too long, Margery is likely to swim the North Sea in order to drag me back home.’
‘I will stay in Denmark for as long as Sigbrit wishes,’ said Lord Westfield, taking the miniature from his pocket to pass to him. ‘Here, Lawrence. This is the reason we are all sailing on the
Cormorant
. Is she not divine?’
‘Words could not describe her, my lord,’ said the actor,almost drooling over the portrait. ‘She is the perfection of womanhood.’
‘You are looking at the next Lady Westfield.’
‘How ever did you find her, Master Harling?’
‘It took time,’ said Harling, ‘for there are so many things to be weighed in the balance. Beauty is only one attribute required. In Sigbrit Olsen, I found someone who answered every demand.’
Firethorn studied him. Try as he might, he could not warm to the man. Harling was too cold and reserved. There was no doubting his intellectual brilliance but such a quality rated little with Firethorn. He preferred wit and conviviality in his friends. After another glance at the miniature, he gave it back to its owner.
‘You did well, Master Harling,’ he said appreciatively. ‘Was this lady your sole reason for going to Europe?’
‘By no means. Government business took me there in the first instance but it allowed me a deal of leisure. I was therefore able to make enquiry on behalf of Lord Westfield and my search eventually led me to Denmark.’
‘The most important thing is that she
wants
me,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘Age does not matter to her. Quality is all. She accepted me as soon as she realised who I was.’
‘It involved a lot of
I
would have been the person they attacked, not Owen. He did not even touch the fellow. It was I who fought with him.’
‘Then you are in danger as well.’
‘There
is
no danger, Anne. Put the whole thing out of your mind. Owen was set on by some thieves, that is all.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. That’s the end of the story.’
Anne was not so certain but she did not press the matter. She glanced across at Elias again, making light of his injuries in front of the others but evidently in pain. When she turned back to Nicholas, he was gazing contemplatively out across the sea. Rolling waves seemed to stretch to infinity.
‘I wonder if they have an
English
Churchyard there,’ he said.
‘Where?’
‘In Elsinore.’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘When we get to Denmark,’ he pointed out, ‘we will know how it feels to be the outsiders –
we
will be the strangers.’
Lord Westfield occupied a small cabin below deck in the stern of the ship. It was tidy, compact and equipped with solid oak furniture. Ensconced in a chair, he sipped a cup of wine and discussed plans with Lawrence Firethorn and Rolfe Harling.
‘Life is full of surprises,’ he observed genially. ‘A month ago, I would never have dreamt that I would one day be sailing to Denmark to meet my young bride.’
‘We, too, have been swept away by the tide of events, my lord,’ said the actor. ‘But for that fire, we would still be entertaining our audiences at the Queen’s Head.’
‘Instead of which, you will play before royalty.’
‘We intend to conquer the whole of Denmark.’
‘Your journey may not end there, Master Firethorn,’ said Harling, knowledgeably. ‘When an English company visited the court ten years or more ago, they were sent on to Dresden to earn even more plaudits. King Frederick II also recommended them to the Elector of Saxony and word of their excellence spread.’
‘That’s encouraging to hear, Master Harling.’
‘Expecting to stay weeks, they remained abroad for months.’
‘Oh, I do not think that my wife would approve of that,’ said Firethorn with a chuckle. ‘If I stay away too long, Margery is likely to swim the North Sea in order to drag me back home.’
‘I will stay in Denmark for as long as Sigbrit wishes,’ said Lord Westfield, taking the miniature from his pocket to pass to him. ‘Here, Lawrence. This is the reason we are all sailing on the
Cormorant
. Is she not divine?’
‘Words could not describe her, my lord,’ said the actor,almost drooling over the portrait. ‘She is the perfection of womanhood.’
‘You are looking at the next Lady Westfield.’
‘How ever did you find her, Master Harling?’
‘It took time,’ said Harling, ‘for there are so many things to be weighed in the balance. Beauty is only one attribute required. In Sigbrit Olsen, I found someone who answered every demand.’
Firethorn studied him. Try as he might, he could not warm to the man. Harling was too cold and reserved. There was no doubting his intellectual brilliance but such a quality rated little with Firethorn. He preferred wit and conviviality in his friends. After another glance at the miniature, he gave it back to its owner.
‘You did well, Master Harling,’ he said appreciatively. ‘Was this lady your sole reason for going to Europe?’
‘By no means. Government business took me there in the first instance but it allowed me a deal of leisure. I was therefore able to make enquiry on behalf of Lord Westfield and my search eventually led me to Denmark.’
‘The most important thing is that she
wants
me,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘Age does not matter to her. Quality is all. She accepted me as soon as she realised who I was.’
‘It involved a lot of
Similar Books
