"Nevertheless, they do," Antonia insisted. 'They meet in secret. And they say that Charles Locke is their master. Or one of them, at the very least. It seems that there are several masters in the guild, one for the alley-men, one for the pickpockets and the foists, one for the sturdy beggars, one for the sharpers, and so on. But they say that Charles Locke is one of the main leaders of them all."
"Where in Heaven's name do you hear all of these things, Antonia?" asked Elizabeth. "Who has been filling your ears with all this arrant nonsense? And pray do not tell me you got it from some cunning woman, for we know that is not true, either!"
"'Tis the truth, Elizabeth!"
"That you got it from a cunning woman? Nonsense. Granny Meg would never have aught to do with the spreading of such rumours. And I know of no other cunning woman in the city."
"Nay, I know 'tis true because I read it," said Antonia. "You read it?"
"Aye, here in this pamphlet, see?"
Antonia reached inside her embroidery basket and pulled out a slim pamphlet that was sharply creased from being folded. It had a crude black-and-white illustration on the cover, a woodcut depicting what appeared to be a room inside a tavern, with men seated at wooden tre
stle tables, smoking pipes and drinking from large tankards. There were a few bawdy-looking women in the crowd, some sitting on the men's laps, others standing around in postures that did not seem very ladylike. And holding forth from 'what appeared to be a sort of pulpit on one side of the room was a bearded man with long hair and dark clothing, one hand raised dramatically overhead, forefinger extended, the other also raised, but slightly lower and clenched into a fist. The title of the pamphlet was The Guild of Thieves, and the subtitle read, Bringing to Light the Notorious and Secret Practices of Divers Thieves and Scoundrels and their Underworld Guild of Cozeners and Coney-Catchers, Written by Robert Greene.
"Wherever did you come by this?" Elizabeth asked, examining it.
"I bought it at a bookstall in Paul's Walk last Sunday," Antonia replied. "It makes for most fascinating reading. And it mentions Thomas's father by name."
"By name, do you say?"
"Aye, right here, do you see?" Antonia indicated the passage.
"And Master Greene would never write it if 'twere not true."
"Well, perhaps not," Elizabeth replied sceptically, "but I see by the title here that this is all about the 'notorious and secret practices' of this supposed thieves' guild, and I should like to know just how secret these practices could be if they were notorious. And I should also like to know how Robert Greene should happen to know all about them, unless he were a thief himself and a member of this guild. And one would think that if he were, why then, his fellow thieves and scoundrels in the guild would not take very kindly to his 'bringing to light' all of their secret practices."
"But Master Greene is not a thief," Antonia said. "He is a respected master of the arts! I should have thought that you would surely know of him, Elizabeth, for he has written numerous plays, many of which were staged at the very playhouse where your Tuck once worked, and in which your father has an interest."
"Well, my father does not speak much of playhouses of late," Elizabeth replied dryly. "Ever since the Lord Admiral's Men began to play together with Lord Strange's company at the Rose, the attendance at the Burbage Theatre has been greatly in decline. My father has witnessed the value of his investment dwindling steadily. That Tuck has left the Queen's Men, together with his friend Will Shakespeare, has only served to strain relations further with my father. Not that Tuck's departure from the company made much difference one way or another, for he was never an important player, but Will had become their resident poet and was beginning to make a reputation for himself. Now, Philip Henslowe has both him and Christopher Marlowe, which greatly increases his ability to stage new productions at the Rose, whilst the Burbages are in danger of losing their lease, in which event Father would likely lose all the money that he had invested with them. So even though Tuck and Will have done my father good service in the past, we do not speak of them these days, nor do we speak of playhouses or companies of players in this house."
"Oh. I see. Well then, I can tell you that Master Greene is a university man and a respected, well-known poet who has written a considerable number of these pamphlets with an aim to keeping the honest citizen informed of the ways in which the criminals of the underworld conduct their shadowy practices, so that good people may avoid being robbed and cozened."
"The underworld, is it?" said Elizabeth. "It all sounds quite dramatic. What makes you think. that he is not simply making it all up?"
"Well, he did not make up Charles Locke, did he?" Antonia countered. "He is real enough. As is Moll Cutpurse, whom he also mentions in this pamphlet."
"And what would you know about Moll Cutpurse?"
"I know that she is real, because Tuck has met her. He has told me so."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Did he, indeed? And just where and when, pray tell, did you two have this conversation?"
"Why, at the bookstall, when I purchased this," Antonia replied. "He was buying one, as well. It turns out that he is a great admirer of Master Greene and has read nearly all of his pamphlets about cozeners and coney-catchers." She hesitated. "He asked about you, of course."
"Ah. How good of him."
"As it happens, 'twas he who recommended that I purchase this," Antonia continued blithely.
"Indeed? And why did he do that, do you suppose?" Elizabeth asked, trying to mask her irritation. She felt irritated that Antonia had met Tuck at St. Paul's, and at the same time it irritated her that she felt irritated.
"Why? Oh, I suppose because I told him that I was looking for something new to read and then asked him what he was going to purchase," Antonia replied, as yet unaware of Elizabeth's reaction.
"So now it seems you both have an interest in common," Elizabeth said dryly, wondering even as she said it why her irritation with Antonia was growing. She had always enjoyed Antonia's company before, but now it seemed she was only getting on her nerves. Elizabeth told herself that it was not as if she had any sort of claim on Tuck Smythe, after all. Their relationship, Such as it was, was ill defined, if indeed it could be said to be defined at all. Was it possible that she was feeling jealous of her friend? Though she was young and very pretty, Antonia was a married woman. But then Elizabeth reminded herself that Antonia had also just confessed to having taken lovers. And if she could so easily be unfaithful to her husband, could she not just as easily be unfaithful to a friend? Or had she been already? It was a disquieting thought, and Elizabeth found herself looking at Antonia in a new and not very favourable light.
"Elizabeth, I do believe that you are jealous," said Antonia, as if suddenly reading her mind.
"Nonsense. Why should I be jealous?" asked Elizabeth, crying to keep her tone neutral and hoping that her face was not turning red. 'Tuck is free to meet with anyone he chooses, and at any time he pleases. As are you, I suppose." She flinched inwardly, wishing that she had not added that last comment. It had sounded tart even as she said it.