Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘Well, Edmund?’ asked Firethorn. ‘What do you say? Will you work through the night to save Master Pye’s play or shall we take one of the many other new pieces we have awaiting performance?’

The lawyer winced. His situation took on new pathos. Hoode gave a nod.

‘I’ll take on the chore,’ he agreed.

‘Oh, thank you, thank you, sir!’ said Pye, thrusting the play into his hands then embracing him so closely that he was hit by a veritable gust of bad breath. ‘Change what you will. I have complete faith in you.’

‘And I have complete faith in the play,’ said Hoode with sincerity. ‘It’s just a pity that it comes to us when we cannot afford time to work slowly on it.’

‘Begin at once, Edmund,’ ordered Firethorn, crossing to open the door. ‘I’ll pass on the good tidings to the company when we meet this morning.’

‘I’ll hold you up no longer, Master Hoode,’ said Pye, gathering up his satchel. ‘I merely want to thank you once again for your kindness. You’ve true nobility, sir.’

Firethorn hustled him out then shut the door again. He waited until he heard the lawyer going out into the street below then he burst out laughing and clapped his friend hard on the back.

‘True nobility, eh?’ he said. ‘Arise Sir Edmund Hoode.’

‘You were too cruel to him, Lawrence.’

‘Cruel to him and kind to Westfield’s Men. Would you have us lose this golden opportunity?’ He laughed again. ‘Did you notice the way he jumped when I suggested that we had many other new plays at our disposal?’

‘That was the cruellest touch of all.’

‘Who cares, man? It worked. Still,’ he went on, ‘you don’t want me to waste your precious time. Every minute is important. We need at least some of the piece in the scrivener’s hands today.’

‘It will be,’ promised Hoode. ‘Act One needs little improvement. I simply have to transpose to scenes to achieve more impact. Master Pye accepted that when I pointed it out to him. The long scene with Lord Malady is stronger if it comes last.’

‘Which scene is that, Edmund?’

‘The one where he has his first illness. You recall it, Lawrence. Lord Malady is struck down by a mysterious fever. I remember you telling me how much you were looking forward to playing that particular scene.’

Firethorn was pensive. ‘I think that I’ve already done so.’

‘You’ll milk a lot of humour from the way he collapses in his wife’s arms.’

‘There was no humour in it, I assure you,’ said the actor grimly. ‘Remind me, Edmund. I read the play but once so my knowledge of it is less exact than your own. Does not Lord Malady get struck down by a fever that miraculously disappears before the doctor can even medicine him?’

‘That’s right. Barnaby will your be physician. Doctor Putrid.’

Firethorn thought of the sudden illness that afflicted him and gave a shudder.

‘He was called Doctor Whitrow last night,’ he murmured.

The return journey was largely uneventful. There were no robbers to evade this time and Davy Stratton made no attempt to escape from them. Instead, he offered them an apology as soon as they left Silvermere and seemed truly penitent. He was riding between the two men, his pony keeping up a brisk trot with the horses.

‘I’m sorry if I caused you any concern,’ he said. ‘It was wrong of me.’

‘That’s not what I’d call it, lad,’ said Owen Elias. ‘It was sinful. You worried the life out of us. Why go charging off like that?’

‘I couldn’t help it.’

‘Don’t tell us that arrant lie about your pony bolting,’ warned Elias, ‘because you’d have cried out if that had happened. You were the one who bolted, Davy. We were fretting about you for hours.’

‘I was going to come back to you, honestly,’ said the boy.

‘But why disappear in the first place?’ wondered Nicholas Bracewell. ‘You weren’t acting on impulse. It was deliberate. You took us into that forest in order to shake us off. That was the whole reason for coming to Essex with us, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Davy.

‘Don’t you like us?’

‘Of course, Master Bracewell.’

Elias glowered. ‘You’ve a peculiar way of showing it.’

‘Don’t you want to be apprenticed to Westfield’s Men?’ asked Nicholas.

‘Yes,’ said Davy without conviction.

‘Then why desert us like that?’

‘I told you. It was only for a while. I was coming to find you at Silvermere.’

‘Where did you go meanwhile?’

The boy shrugged. ‘Away.’

‘We want a more honest answer than that, Davy,’ said Nicholas.

‘It’s the truth,’ insisted Davy. ‘I just wanted to be on my own for a while. To get away so that I could think properly. And that story about Hotspur bolting wasn’t really a lie,’ he said, turning to Elias. ‘It may not have been exactly the way my father described it but I was knocked from the saddle later on. It grew dark and I lost my way. When some animal let out a terrible cry, Hotspur was frightened and bolted. The branch of a tree hit me to the ground. That’s when I got my bruises.’

‘You’d have a few more, if it was left to me,’ said Elias.

‘What about last night?’ resumed Nicholas. ‘You were running away again.’

‘No,’ said Davy.

‘It looked like it to me. And your father had anticipated it. That’s why he advised that you be locked in the room.’

‘I wasn’t running away, I promise. I would have come back.’

‘From where?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I think you do, Davy.’

‘I just wanted to be alone again, that’s all,’ explained the boy. ‘I would’ve sneaked back while you and Master Elias were still asleep. You wouldn’t have known anything about it.’

‘We do now,’ said Elias sternly. ‘And we don’t like it.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It was your fault that we got locked in that bedchamber last night, Davy.’

‘Let’s forget that, Owen,’ said Nicholas, trying to calm his friend. ‘If anyone is to blame, it’s Master Stratton and he’s not here to answer for his actions. His son is back with us, that’s the main thing. Davy may have got off to a poor start but he may yet turn out to be worthy apprentice.’ He looked at the boy. ‘If he puts his mind to it, that is.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said the boy.

‘Make sure that you do, lad. When you joined Westfield’s Men, you became part of a family. We’re all bonded together. We don’t expect anyone to flee from us.’

‘I just went away for a short while.’

‘To be on your own,’ said Nicholas quietly. ‘I know. You told us. The question is this. Why did you have such an overpowering desire to get away? What was it that you needed to think about?’

‘Lots of things.’

‘Such as?’

Davy quivered slightly. ‘What’s going to happen to me.’

The boy looked so small and vulnerable that Nicholas wanted to reach out to comfort him. He saw a hint of genuine despair in Davy’s eyes. It did not go unnoticed by Elias. The Welshman became more sympathetic.

‘I’ll tell you what’s going to happen to you, Davy,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’re going to have the time of your life with Westfield’s Men. You’ll be taught to sing, dance, fence, fight, use a gesture, play a part and enjoy yourself to the full. It’ll be a lot more fun than falling off your pony, I warrant you.’

‘We’ll look after you,’ said Nicholas. ‘Have no fear.’

Davy was reassured. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m not really afraid.’

As soon as the track widened, they increased their speed to a canter. Conditions for travel had improved. It was noticeably milder and there was no wind. When they stopped at an inn shortly after noon, Nicholas was pleased with the progress they had made. He was even more pleased with the change in Davy Stratton. Having made his apology, the boy wanted to commit himself to Westfield’s Men. He talked with interest about the forthcoming visit to Silvermere and pressed for details of the plays that would be staged. By the time they set off on the next part of their journey, they had put the upsets of the previous day firmly behind them.