Edward Marston - The Princess of Denmark

‘I’ll not turn peddler for anyone,’ said Gill defiantly.

‘You’ve done so before.’

‘Only under duress — and only in spring or summer.’

‘Strolling players are on tour throughout the year,’ noted Hoode. ‘They take no account of bad weather.’

Gill was insulted. ‘We are not strolling players, Edmund,’ he said huffily. ‘We are members of a licensed company. We have a patron and wear his livery. That sets us worlds apart from the ragamuffins who call themselves strolling players.’

‘For once, I agree with Barnaby,’ said Firethorn. ‘We have high standards and we must never fall below them. As for touring, it’s the wrong time of the year to walk at the cart’s arse.’

‘I dispute that,’ said Hoode. ‘If we have no audience in London, we must go in search of one. We can brave a little rain for the sake of keeping our art in good repair.’

‘I refuse to stir an inch from London,’ declared Gill with finality.

‘Then we’ll have to go without you.’

‘I’ll not allow it.’

‘I side with Barnaby on this,’ said Firethorn. ‘In another month, it will not only be rain that will harass us. Frost, fog and freezing cold will hold us up. Roads will be like swamps. Rivers will be swollen. Icy winds will get into our very bones.’

‘Stop it, Lawrence,’ ordered Gill. ‘My teeth chatter already.’

He pushed away the remnants of his dinner and reached for his wine. His companions fell silent. The despondent atmosphere that hung over the table pervaded the whole taproom. Actors sagged in their seats or conversed in muted voices. There was none of the happy banter that normally invigorated them. For the sharers — those with a financial stake in the company and who therefore enjoyed a share of its profits — the future was cheerless. For the hired men — jobbing actors employed for individual plays — it was far worse. Being out of work was a form of death sentence for them. With no wages to sustain them, and with a harsh winter ahead, many would fall by the wayside.

The sense of dejection was almost tangible. Nicholas Bracewell noticed it as soon as he entered the inn. He collected a few nods and words of greeting but none of the raillery for which the actors were famed. When he stopped beside Firethorn’s table, he was met with blank stares from all three men seated around it.

‘I’ve been to see Lord Westfield,’ he announced.

‘Did you tell him that his company is posthumous?’ asked Gill. ‘For that is what we are now — mere ghosts that no longer have any corporeal shape or function.’

‘Speak for yourself, Barnaby,’ chided Firethorn. ‘I am no ghost but a flesh and blood titan. All that I lack is a stage on which to unleash my power.’ He looked at the newcomer. ‘Find a seat, Nick, and tell us the worst. Was our patron shocked by the news?’

‘No,’ replied Nicholas, bringing an empty stool to the table and lowering himself onto it. ‘Lord Westfield was not shocked.’

‘Horror-struck, then?’

‘No, Lawrence.’

‘Alarmed?’

‘Not even that.’

Hoode was puzzled. ‘Lord Westfield is not insensible,’ he said. ‘When you told him about the fire at the Queen’s Head, he must have expressed some emotion.’

‘He did, Edmund.’

‘Anguish — fear — disappointment?’

‘None of those things.’

‘I do not believe it,’ said Gill irritably. ‘You’ll be telling us next that he was glad his company were driven out of their home by the blaze. Let’s have no more of this jest, Nicholas. It’s in poor taste.’

‘It’s no jest, I assure you,’ Nicholas promised. ‘Our patron was sad that we had been evicted from the Queen’s Head but he was far from crestfallen. He saw it as an Act of God.’

‘Except that God, in this instance, went by the name of Will Dunmow for it was he who started the fire that ruined us. Act of God, indeed!’ said Gill, clicking his lips. ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense.’

‘Lord Westfield thinks otherwise.’

‘Was he not even upset at our loss?’ said Firethorn.

‘To some degree.’

‘Does he want us swept from the boards?’

‘Of course not,’ replied Nicholas, ‘but, given the situation, he is quick to take advantage of it.’

‘Advantage!’ howled Firethorn. ‘What advantage?’

‘I see none,’ said Gill. ‘You are teasing us, Nicholas.’

‘I would never do that,’ said the book holder.

‘Then stop speaking in riddles,’ urged Hoode. ‘The troupe is a credit to our patron. We bear his name and proclaim his status. Since we are the best company in London, we add lustre to Lord Westfield. Can he sit calmly by and watch all that cast away?’

‘No, Edmund,’ said Nicholas. ‘He would never do that. He has our best interests at heart.’

‘Then why is he not as downcast as the rest of us?’

‘For two reasons.’ He took a deep breath before imparting the news. ‘First, Lord Westfield is to marry.’

Firethorn was astounded. ‘Marry?’ he exclaimed. ‘That old goat? Why does he need to take another wife when he can enjoy all the pleasures of marriage without one?’

‘I did not know that there were any pleasures in marriage,’ said Gill, a man who looked upon any relations between the two sexes with a jaundiced eye. ‘The love of man for man is the only source of true happiness.’

‘How would you know, Barnaby? The only man you ever loved is yourself. You’ve spent a whole lifetime courting mirrors. But no more of that,’ he went on, turning back to Nicholas. ‘Are you in earnest?’

‘Never more so,’ said the other.

‘Who is the lady?’

‘Her name is Sigbrit Olsen.’

‘A foreigner?’

‘She lives in Denmark and comes from good family.’

‘Whatever possessed him to marry a Dane?’

‘She is a lady of exceptional beauty. I saw her portrait.’

‘How old is she?’

‘Still young, Lawrence.’

‘I can understand Lord Westfield pursuing her ,’ said Hoode, ‘but what does he have to offer a Danish beauty? Nobody could call him handsome and he relishes every vice in the city.’

‘Not all of them,’ murmured Gill to himself.

‘He means to mend his ways,’ said Nicholas. ‘As to what must have attracted her, I would have thought it was obvious — he is wealthy since his brother’s death, he has a title and he has us.’

‘Westfield’s Men?’

‘Our reputation goes before us, Edmund. It seems that her uncle — and it is he who has brokered this match — saw us perform when we played at Frankfurt as we travelled across the Continent. He had never forgotten the event and has filled his niece’s ears ever since with tales of our excellence.’

‘That’s gratifying to hear,’ said Firethorn, ‘but the lady is not being asked to wed us . She will be sharing a marriage bed with our patron, an ageing voluptuary.’

‘Just like you, Lawrence,’ remarked Gill nastily.

‘I resent that jibe.’

‘Truth is always painful.’

‘Nothing could be more painful than the sight of your repulsive face, Barnaby. It’s a monument to sheer ugliness.’

‘Many people account me well-featured.’

‘Blindness is a terrible handicap.’

‘You are at it again,’ scolded Hoode, pushing them apart with his hands. ‘Forbear, both of you. Listen to Nick. I think he has something very important to tell us.’

‘I do,’ confirmed Nicholas.

‘You said that there were two reasons why Lord Westfield was not as worried as he might have been. What’s the second?’

‘Our loss is his gain, Edmund.’

‘Could you speak more plainly?’