“Suit yourself,” said Shakespeare, with a shrug. “But if you should fall and break your nose or else knock out a few teeth, do not come crying to me. You are a fine looking young man, Tuck, but you would not look quite so handsome were you toothless. And considering your lack of talent as an actor, you might want to hold onto being handsome for as long as possible.”

“Right. I shall stay in bed, then.”

“And while we are on the subject of your various shortcomings,” Shakespeare continued, “this may not be the best time to bring it up, but you might recall that both Sir William and I, as well as others I could mention, have advised you on more than one occasion to start carrying a sword. Sir William even gave you one of his.” He glanced pointedly over to the corner of the room, where the sword Sir William gave to Smythe leaned against the wall in its scabbard and belt. “Of course, it does not do you a great deal of good over there, although I must admit that ever since you put it there, no one has yet attacked that corner of the room.”

Smythe sighed and winced again. He touched his bandaged head gingerly. “Point well taken,” he said. “Methinks from now on, I shall not only wear it everywhere I go, except to bed, but I shall resume my long-neglected fencing practice, also.”

“Considering how often people try to kill you, that does seem an excellent idea,” Shakespeare said. “You do seem to attract more than your share of peril. One might almost think that you were cursed.”

“What o’clock is it?” asked Smythe, noticing the shutters closed. There did not seem to be any daylight seeping through the cracks.

“Past ten of the clock, according to the bellman who went by outside a little while ago,” Shakespeare replied. “You have been senseless for nearly two hours since Ben brought you back. We feared that you might not reawaken.”

“Where is Ben?”

“He has gone to escort Granny Meg back home,” Shakespeare replied.

“Granny Meg was here?”

“Aye. Ben and I went to fetch her while Molly stayed here to look after you. Granny Meg removed the bandage Ben tore from his shirt and replaced it with one of her own that she brought with her. She placed a poultice underneath it to draw out the bad humors and left very strict instructions that ‘twas not to be removed until she herself removed it and once more looked at your wound. She assured us that your head was more or less intact, although she did caution us that you might not remember things if the blow was strong enough.” Shakespeare shrugged. “I asked her how we might possibly be able to tell the difference, since you could not seem to remember things before the blow was struck.”

“Very amusing.”

“She seemed to think so. In any event, she said that if you could not recall your name, then it could be a bad sign.”

“But you did not ask me my name when I awoke.”

“I was going to see if your remembered. If not, then I was going to tell you ‘twas Ned Alleyn, just to see if ‘twould have any improvement upon your acting abilities. But… you remembered who you were, worse luck.”

Despite the pain, Smythe smiled. “ Twould seem that I owe Ben a debt of gratitude,” he said. “Not to mention a new shirt.” He frowned. “Wait a moment. You said that Molly stayed with me while you and Ben went for Granny Meg?”

“Aye, she did. And she was most concerned about you.”

“And she is here still?”

“Aye. She would not go home until she knew that you were going to be all right. As Courtney said, she awaits downstairs, to see you and satisfy herself that you are in no grave danger.”

Smythe felt a pang of guilt at her concern. “Please send her up, Will.”

“I shall.”

“Oh, and Will?”

“Aye?”

“Thanks.”

Shakespeare smiled. “No need. You would have done no less for me. In fact, as I recall, you did save my life once.” “Then consider the score even.”

Shakespeare held up his index finger. “Not quite yet. But I shall be sure to let you know.”

A few moments later, Molly knocked and then looked in anxiously. “Will said that you were awake and feeling better.”

“Well, I am not so sure that I feel better, but at least I am awake. Please come in, Molly.”

“I am so very sorry, Tuck,” she said, as she came in and sat down on a stool beside the bed. “Does it hurt very much?”

“Like the very Devil. But your broth helped. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Did you see who did it?”

Smythe shook his head and at once regretted it. The room spun and he closed his eyes a moment, hoping that he would not retch. “Nay, I did not,” he said, after a moment. “But Ben did. He said ‘twas the Steady Boys. It appears that I shall have a score to settle with Jack Darnley and his lot.”

“Granny Meg said ‘twas likely that you would recover fully before long.”

“I believe I shall,” said Smythe. “For the most part, ‘tis just my head that aches as if ‘twill burst. From now on, methinks I shall be more careful about walking through the streets alone after it grows dark. Which reminds me, Molly… I have a confession I must make to you. And I fear that it may make you angry with me.”

“You are going to say you followed me?”

Smythe grimaced. “You already knew. She told you.”

Molly nodded. “I am not angry with you, Tuck. I know you thought ‘twas a man that I was with and you only followed me out of concern for my safety and welfare.”

“She told you that?”

Molly smiled. “She did not need to. I know you, Tuck. You are not a scoundrel. There is no meanness in you. You have always been land to me. You and all the other players have always treated me as if I were part of the family, and I have always been very grateful for that. You are all very nearly the only family I know.”

“Well, I am relieved to hear you are not angry with me,” Smythe told her. “And you have repaid my kindness with kindness of your own. But I still cannot help but wonder… What in the world have you to do with the likes of Moll Cutpurse?”

Molly glanced down at the floor. “ ‘Tis a private matter, Tuck, and I wish you would not ask me.”

“Well, I know ‘tis no concern of mine, but-”

“Just so, Tuck. ‘Tis no concern of yours. And I would be grateful if you did not press me on the matter.”

“But you do know who she is, Molly?”

“I know,” she replied. “And I know you ask from motives that are good and well intended. But I promise you that I am in no danger, Tuck. I have nothing to fear from Moll Cutpurse. Truly. What we have between us is a private matter, as I said. And I do not wish to discuss it further. As you are my friend, I ask your word that you shall not pursue it or discuss it with any of the others.”

“Molly, I merely-”

“Your word, Tuck.”

He sighed. “Very well. You have my word.”

She smiled. “Thank you. And now you should try and get some sleep. Granny Meg said that you would need your rest to heal. And for that matter, I should get some sleep, myself. Master Stackpole has been kind enough to let me have a bed for the night. If you feel poorly and need anything tonight, call out. I am a light sleeper and shall hear.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “You can barely keep your eyes open. Go to sleep now. I shall look in on you tomorrow.”

It was true. It was all that he could do to keep his eyes open. His head ached terribly, he felt dizzy and queasy, but most of all, he felt so tired that all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. It seemed like a most excellent suggestion. He could not recall for certain later if he even said good night to her. He could not even recall seeing her leave. He seemed to recall hearing the door to his room close softly and that was the last thing he remembered. He slept a long, deep, and dreamless sleep. In fact, he slept all through the next day and the next night. And when he finally awoke, it was to discover that while he had slept, Master Leonardo had been murdered.