Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

In spite of its proximity to the capital, Essex was curiously isolated from London. The River Lea and its many courses presented a formidable barrier and the undrained wetlands near the River Thames caused additional problems. Winter came to their aid. Marshland that would have been impassable was now frozen solid, allowing them to pick their way through to firm ground and cut off a mile or two in the process. They crossed the series of bridges at Stratford atte Bow and watched the largest city in England being conjured up ahead of them. Afternoon sun gilded the rooftops and the church spires. The sheer bulk of St Paul’s dominated. The Tower was gleaming.

‘Not far to go now,’ said Nicholas. ‘It’s good to be back.’

‘Yes, Nick,’ added Elias with a grin. ‘Back home again.’

‘I’ll go to the Queen’s Head to seek out the company there.’

‘Look for me later on. I have to return this horse to the lady who loaned it to me and her gratitude may delay me somewhat.’ He chuckled with glee. ‘That’s the best way I know to get rid of saddle sores. The pain will be rubbed delightfully away.’

‘What about you, Davy?’ asked Nicholas. ‘Are you happy to be back?’

Davy Stratton nodded enthusiastically but he said nothing.

A productive day left Lawrence Firethorn glowing with satisfaction. Egidius Pye had been beaten into submission, the rehearsal at the Queen’s Head had been excellent and news had arrived from Edmund Hoode that the first two acts of The Witch of Colchester were now with the scrivener. Parts had already been assigned and work on the play could begin the following day. Only the sharers had been involved in the rehearsal, the privileged actors who invariably played the major roles. Firethorn adjourned to the taproom with them. He was emptying a cup of Canary wine when he saw Nicholas Bracewell enter.

‘Nick, dear friend!’ he said, leaping to his feet. ‘You come upon your hour.’

‘I was hoping to find you still here,’ said Nicholas.

‘How did you fare in Essex?’ asked James Ingram.

‘Did they agree to let us stage Cupid’s Folly ?’ said Barnaby Gill. ‘Sir Michael and his friends deserve to see me at my best.’

‘Let the fellow draw breath,’ ordered Firethorn. ‘And make way for him on that settle, James. Nick has ridden a long way in the service of the company. He deserves a seat and a cup or two of ale.’

Nicholas exchanged greetings with the others and lowered himself on to the oak settle between Ingram and Gill. His drink soon arrived and he sipped it gratefully.

‘Where are the others?’ asked Firethorn.

‘I left Davy with your wife in Shoreditch,’ said Nicholas. ‘The lad was tired.’

‘Margery will have a warm meal ready for him. What of Owen?’

‘He’s returning his horse to a lady.’

Firethorn laughed. ‘That means he’ll be riding bareback by now,’ he said. ‘And why not? Every man to his trade. But let’s forget that rampant satyr of a Welshman. Tell us about your visit, Nick? What sort of a place is Silvermere? What sort of man is Sir Michael Greenleaf? Are we truly welcome there?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘We’re blessed in every way.’

Tactfully omitting the unpleasant aspects of the visit, he gave them a concise account of what had transpired. They were delighted to hear about the Great Hall in which they would perform and the spectators whom they would entertain. It was only when Nicholas announced the repertoire that had been agreed that he sparked off a dissentient voice. Inevitably, it came from Gill.

‘You made no mention of Cupid’s Folly ,’ he said sharply.

Nicholas shrugged an apology. ‘It had to be left out, I fear,’ he explained. ‘Only three comedies could be included. Since we are bound to take The Witch of Colchester, that only left room for The Happy Malcontent and Double Deceit. We were not able to please everyone. Sir Michael’s wife wanted Love’s Sacrifice but that, too, was put aside. We’ve The Insatiate Duke and Vincentio’s Revenge as our tragedies and Henry the Fifth to add a little history.’

‘In short,’ said Firethorn triumphantly, ‘the very six plays we chose at the start.’

‘I was promised Cupid’s Folly ,’ argued Gill.

‘Only to shut you up, Barnaby.’

‘It’s a better play than Double Deceit .’

‘But too crude and simple for the audience we are likely to find.’

‘A rustic comedy would sit happily in a country house.’

‘Not in the case of Silvermere,’ said Nicholas persuasively. ‘ Cupid’s Folly would have been my own choice, perhaps, but the Great Hall is not the place to stage it. We could never set up the maypole there and that’s essential to the piece. Besides,’ he went on, using flattery to placate the actor, ‘the play they really wished to see you in was The Happy Malcontent. Lady Eleanor could not stop talking about your performance in that. She told me that you had flights of genius.’

Gill smiled. ‘It’s true that I scale the heights in that,’ he said vainly.

‘It atones for the way you plumb the depths in other dramas,’ teased Firethorn.

‘Jealousy does not become you, Lawrence.’

‘Oh, I agree. You have a monopoly on that emotion, Barnaby.’

‘There’s one thing more,’ said Nicholas, heading off another row between the two rivals. ‘Sir Michael is a scientist and inventor. He’s working on a new kind of gunpowder and offered to let us have use of it for our new play. I think I can devise an explosion that will bring us great benefit.’

‘So could I,’ said Firethorn, grinning provocatively at Gill.

‘Mock on, mock on,’ said Gill, rising up with dignity. ‘I am needed elsewhere.’

‘Be early tomorrow, Barnaby. We begin our witchcraft.’

As soon as Gill had left, the others began to drift slowly away. Nicholas was left alone with Firethorn. After calling for more drinks, the actor moved in close to him.

‘Now, then, Nick,’ he said. ‘Let’s have the truth.’

‘You’ve heard it already.’

‘But not every scrap of it, I fancy. You’re holding something back.’

‘I am,’ confessed Nicholas, ‘because I didn’t want to disturb the others.’

‘Go on.’

‘We were set on by highwaymen on the way there.’

Firethorn was alarmed. ‘Was anyone injured? Owen? Davy?’

‘The only ones who suffered were the rogues themselves. We gave them a few wounds to lick and they didn’t stay around to wait for us to return. There were only four of them. When we travel as a company, we’ll frighten off twice that number.’

‘Is this all that you kept from us?’

‘I fear not. We have to contend with two unforeseen problems.’

‘What are they?’

‘The first goes by the name of Reginald Orr,’ explained Nicholas. ‘He’s a fiery Puritan who is the bane of Sir Michael’s life. According to the vicar, this truculent Christian has somehow heard of our arrival and threatens to repel us.’

‘Puritans are always repellent. This is no problem to vex us.’

‘It could be. Sir Michael says that the man is desperate.’

‘What will he do?’ said Firethorn contemptuously. ‘Wave banners and hurl insults at us? We’ve suffered so much of that here at the Queen’s Head that we no longer even notice it. Reginald Orr can be discounted. Let the fool rant on.’

‘I hope that’s the height of his protest,’ said Nicholas.

‘What’s the second problem?’

‘A more serious one, alas.’

‘Oh?’

‘Davy Stratton.’

Space was severely restricted at the house in Old Street and none of the occupants had the luxury of a bedchamber to themselves. Three of the apprentices shared the same bed in a room at the back of the house. The fourth, Richard Honeydew, had been put in with Firethorn’s own children but the arrival of Davy Stratton had altered the sleeping arrangements. The two servants were evicted from their room in the attic and moved down to the cellar. Davy found himself sharing the tiny bedchamber under the roof timbers with Honeydew. When they retired for the night, the latter was full of questions.