The Straw Men

We fled. God knows who went where.’
A sharp discussion broke out about what happened after the two attacks. The more he listened, the more convinced Athelstan became that establishing the whereabouts of anyone was a fairly fruitless path to follow. The Straw Men grew increasingly vociferous about who was where and when.
‘Except you!’ Athelstan pointed at Eli. ‘You stayed. You hid beneath one of the tables?’
‘I was terrified,’ the mummer replied. ‘True, I hid beneath a table, behind its drape. I then decided to move out. I lifted the cloth and saw the heads.’
‘And nobody else?’
‘No, Brother.’
Athelstan, just for a moment, caught a fleeting look, a glance as if Eli was hiding something, then the rest joined in, talking vigorously about their perception of events.
‘My friends,’ Athelstan intervened, ‘we, like you, are detained here. God knows how long we will have to dance attendance upon our masters.’ Athelstan held his hands up. ‘Remember that the questions we ask, others undoubtedly will, eventually.’ He paused. ‘Barak? Was he a supporter of the Upright Men? Did he plot rebellion? Come now,’ he urged, ‘you travel the length and breadth of both the Kingdom and this city. You see and hear things. You are patronized by no less a person than Lord John of Gaunt…’
‘Barak.’ Rachael cast off Eli’s restraining hand. ‘Barak,’ she repeated, ‘lived only for the play, the mummery, the masks. He had no time or inclination to meddle in such matters. He was absorbed in his lines. He lived for the performance.’
‘And the poor,’ Eli added. ‘Come, sister, we know that. He often declaimed against the popinjays, the city fops, the court gallants in their gold-encrusted paltocks, their multicoloured hose, Cracow shoes and ridiculously long liripipes, men in woman’s clothing.’ Eli scoffed. ‘Nor did the lords of the manor escape his judgement.’
‘And His Grace the Regent?’
‘A dog does not bite the hand that feeds it,’ Samuel swiftly retorted. ‘Barak neither said yea or nay against him.’
‘Yet according to the evidence,’ Athelstan insisted, ‘Barak was an assassin hand-in-glove with the Upright Men.’ Athelstan then described the scraps of parchment found in the mouth of one of the severed heads as well as in Barak’s wallet purse. They heard him out in silence, clearly disbelieving what they were hearing.
‘Those heads?’ Judith asked, ‘why did they contain such a message?’
‘Mistress,’ Athelstan sighed, ‘I cannot really say. I suspect they were severed some time ago then carefully preserved. One, I suspect, was that of a youngish man and the other belonged to an older woman but,’ Athelstan shrugged, ‘I cannot be precise. Now, Barak, was he skilled in the use of the crossbow?’
‘Very skilled,’ Samuel agreed. ‘We are all for battle as any man-at-arms – that includes Rachael and Judith. We have no choice. We must protect ourselves. We travel lonely roads and we carry money and provisions, clothing and jewellery. Wolfheads, outlaws, the so-called men of the Greenwood, approach us. Every one of us here, whatever else we do, is skilled in the war bow, the arbalest, the pike, the sword and dagger. Usually we are unmolested but these are desperate times and they produce desperate men.’
‘And your company has an armoury?’ Cranston asked sleepily.
‘Of course – swords, daggers, bucklers and maces.’
‘And small hand-held arbalests?’
‘Yes, Sir John.’
‘And today?’ Athelstan asked. ‘Did Barak act any differently?’
‘No,’ Samuel replied. ‘As Rachael said, Barak lived and breathed for the masque and the miracle play. He was no different today. I’ve asked the rest. He fled from the Chapel of St John. Nobody saw him do anything untoward. Why should he? He was happy, contented.’ Master Samuel drew his brows together. ‘He didn’t act as if…’
‘He was planning murder?’
‘No, no, he didn’t. He was excited about us staging a great play at the Cross in Cheapside. He urged me to indenture a new mummer. I mean, ever since Boaz left—’
‘Boaz?’ Athelstan asked. ‘You have mentioned him before.’
‘A member of our company,’ Eli spoke up, ‘very skilled in learning lines and painting. He helped us decorate the dragon’s head – Hell’s mouth.’
‘A magnificent sight,’ Athelstan agreed. ‘Truly magnificent.’
‘Boaz left us just after we visited Castle Acre in Norfolk around the Feast of All Hallows,’ Rachael declared. ‘God knows why. We woke one morning and he was gone but,’ she blew her cheeks out, ‘we have our rules – liberty is one of them. We are not bonded to the company.’
‘What are you then?’ Cranston asked. ‘Come.’ He offered the miraculous wine skin; this time it was gratefully accepted.
‘The hour is late but we must wait,’ Sir John insisted, ‘so why not chat. Just who are you?’
Master Samuel, after taking a generous gulp of the fine claret, described how the Straw Men were his company. An Oxford clerk ordained to minor orders, he had studied the Quadrivium and Trivium, then stumbled on to the plays of Plautus and Terence. He began earning a few coins reciting their lines at the Carfax in Oxford or on the steps of St Mary the Virgin Church. The authorities were not impressed. Time and again the proctors of the university as well as the mayor’s bailiffs had warned him off. On at least three occasions they even forced him to stand in the stocks and recite his lines for free. Eventually Samuel – he claimed to have forgotten his real name – had fled to serve in the commission of array in France, where he had entered Gaunt’s household as a troubadour. On his journeys Samuel became acquainted with the Laon and Montpellier mystery plays. Gaunt had presented him with a fine copy of The Castle of Perseverance, the Lincoln miracle play, peopled by characters such as Bad Angel, Plain Folly and Backbiter. Samuel had immediately fallen in love with both the themes and the verse and so, using the money he had acquired, founded the Straw Men.
‘Why that title?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Because, Brother,’ Samuel laughed sharply, ‘we bend and change with every breeze. You want us to be Herod or perhaps Pilate, or