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“Any one, it does not matter,” Camden said, impatiently.
“Oh, now, truly, sir, you do me honor…” Shakespeare said, as the old man selected one.
“Honor me with a reply and we shall both be satisfied.” said Camden, tersely.
Shakespeare appraised the pie, which looked quite tempting, and then dubiously glanced at the old man, who seemed a bit bedraggled with his long, stringy, white hair and grimey, floppy hat, but whose hands, at least, looked reasonably clean. “Well, now, I shall need to set this ale down… or else, methinks, this mutton…”
“Put it down upon the board,” said Camden.
“But it does not look too clean, milord.”
“Heaven help me!” Camden said, rolling his eyes. He threw some coins down for the pie. “Here, give me the mutton, and then you may take your blasted pie.”
“But… I was not quite finished with the mutton, milord.”
“Fine. Then I shall hold the ale, whilst you take the mutton and the pie.”
“Ah… well, that may work, I suppose, but then I cannot drink, you see.”
“Just give me the damned mutton leg!” said Camden through gritted teeth, snatching it away and brandishing it as if it were a club. “Now get on with it!”
“What was it I was saying, milord?”
“You were telling me who is suspected in the slaying of Daniel Holland!”
“Ah, well, one of the suitors, it seems, must have done it. Elimination of a rival, you see. They were seen together in the maze, it seems, that is to say, Holland and the lady… much as you and the lady were seen together in the library, and… oh, my goodness! I suppose that means that you could very well be next, milord!”
Camden paled. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if someone is killing off his rivals – “
“Then any one of us might well be next,” said Braithwaite, from behind them. Camden turned so suddenly, he nearly struck Braithwaite with the leg of mutton. Braithwaite jerked back and Camden, alarmed by the sudden movement, instinctively raised the leg of mutton like a club.
“Have a care with that,” said Braithwaite. “ ‘Twould be a waste to offer violence with a victual.”
“You startled me, sir,” said Camden, in an affronted tone.
“ ‘Twas never my intention, I assure you,” Braithwaite said. “I could not help but overhear what you and Master Shakespeare were discussing. I had already heard the news, however. Everyone speaks of nothing else. Tis a shame about Dan Holland. He seemed a decent enough sort, I suppose, though if he did dishonor to the lady, then I cannot feel too sorry for him.”
“Well, ‘twould seem that I have been the very last
to hear of his demise,” said Camden, dryly.
“And yet I wonder if you were the very first to see it,” Braithwaite replied, raising his eyebrow.
“What do you mean, sir?” Camden bridled at him. “Are you suggesting I had aught to do with it?”
“Well, one never knows, does one?” said Braithwaite. “As Master Shakespeare said, ‘twould appear that one of us is anxious to eliminate his rivals and that one, for all we know, could very well be you.”
“Or it could just as well be you” Camden retorted, angrily. “I deeply resent your implication, sir!”
“Well, a man who stands ready to club down a fellow with a leg of mutton could be capable of anything,” said Braithwaite.
“You mock me, sir!”
“Tush, what use is there to mock a mockery?”
“Will!” Robert Speed came running up to them and, ignoring the two rivals, moved between them to tug at Shakespeare’s sleeve. “Where the devil have you been) And where is Tuck, for Heaven’s sake? Why, we have all been searching high and low for both of you!”
