They are all cowards. These were the thoughts going through Richard’s mind, thinking of the trio of sots back in the pub. He was the only one with enough nerve to pry up the stone on Shakespeare’s grave. The bet was for ten pounds to steal a piece of the stone marker.

He waited in the shadows of the Holy Trinity Church until the church bells rang the hour. Using the tolling for cover he scurried in through the labour’s door.

Finding the gravemarker was easier than he expected. There was light illuminating a half-effigy of the great bard above the stone marker. The effigy was of Shakespeare in the act of writing with a quill pen.

Get to it, before someone comes Working the edge of the pry-bar into a crack he began to rock the bar back and forth, enlarging the crack. When it was deep enough he pulled with all his might. He heard the crunch of stone and looked down. That sealed his fate. The half-effigy fell from its perch driving the quill pen into Richards neck, killing him.