The Man in the Snow (Ebook) Read Online Free Page A

obviously shocked. Boltfoot noticed a well-built young man with a mass of red curls, a tidy gingery beard and dark, deep eyes, go over to Dorcas and try to comfort her. She shook him away and sobbed all the louder. When he persisted, she bared her teeth like a cat threatened by a dog. The man, wearing a cook’s apron, backed away, leering.
      ‘Who is that man, Mr Stickley?’ Boltfoot addressed the question quietly to the elderly steward who was hovering nearby.
      ‘That is Monsieur Marot the cook. Lucien Marot – or Curly, as he is known to us.’
      ‘Troublemaker is he?’
      ‘I would not say that, Mr Cooper. A little hot-headed, but not a troublemaker. He wants to comfort her, that is all. But Dorcas is too upset, which is natural for a young woman. Giovanni’s death is a shock to us all.’
      Boltfoot said nothing more, merely ate his potage and watched.
     
    Shakespeare was taken to a table in the dining parlour and brought the remains of a songbird pie and bread, with a cup of Gascon wine. He ate alone by the light of half a dozen beeswax candles until, eventually, the countess reappeared.
      She sat down near him and smiled wanly. ‘I am afraid Edward cannot abide any of this. He hates this place, living among all these peasants and merchants. These sordid tradesmen , as he calls them. He considers himself brought very low and blames the Cecil family for all his travails.’
      Elizabeth de Vere had a long face, clear skin and bright eyes. Born Elizabeth Trentham, she was in her early twenties, no more than half her husband’s age. Shakespeare found himself warming to her.
      ‘My husband suffers many disappointments. He has a position to uphold and the wherewithal is wanting.’
      ‘I quite understand.’
      ‘But that is not why you are here, is it?’
      ‘Indeed not, ma’am. I wish to discover who killed Signor Jesu and why. In the first instance, I should like to inspect his quarters and talk with anyone in the house who knew him. I am sure you would all wish his murderer brought to justice.’
      ‘You are certain he is the dead man?’
      ‘There can be no doubt. I met him once, nine years ago.’
      Elizabeth de Vere smiled sadly. Shakespeare wondered about her role as Oxford’s second wife. Was he kinder to her than he had been to Anne Cecil? Elizabeth, a former maid of honour to the Queen, had at least given him the son and heir he longed for. And if he enjoyed collecting things of beauty, then she must surely qualify.
      ‘My lady, if I may ask, what precisely was Signor Jesu’s position in this household?’
      ‘Ah, yes, a very good question, Mr Shakespeare, and one that is not easily answered. It is complicated, you see. Giovanni was the residue of another time and place. He emanated from the days when my lord of Oxford was a great deal more wealthy and well-favoured. Edward considered Giovanni an ornament. There were other such young men of talent and beauty whom he brought home from his tour of the Italies, but they all drifted away; Giovanni stayed. He was not servant, but nor was he guest.’
      ‘Did you know him well?’
      ‘We exchanged pleasantries, no more. Giovanni was one of the furnishings, if you like, an item I inherited when we married.’
      ‘Was he close to your husband?’
      ‘I would like to say that they were like brothers, but that would not be quite the truth. Edward was always a fool for a pretty face, be it male or female.’
      Shakespeare bowed his head in appreciation of her candour. ‘Thank you, my lady. And might I speak with Dorcas Catton?’
      ‘Not tonight, Mr Shakespeare. As with my husband, I think you had better wait until the morning. But I will take you to the dead man’s room.’
     
    Giovanni’s chamber was at the side of the house on the first floor. At any other season, it would probably have been pleasant enough, but on this winter’s night it was cold, the fire as dead as the man himself and the inside