Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘Tell me all, Davy,’ he urged.

‘There’s nothing to tell.’

‘You rode all the way to Silvermere and back. Something must have happened.’

‘We saw the house, slept there overnight and came back.’

Honeydew was disappointed. ‘Were there no adventures?’

‘None to speak of,’ said Davy off-handedly. ‘Except for the robbers.’

‘Robbers!’

‘They tried to attack us but Nicholas Bracewell and Owen Elias beat them off.’

‘How exciting!’

‘It was over in seconds.’

‘Were you frightened, Davy?’

‘Not really.’

‘I would’ve been,’ admitted the other. ‘Will we enjoy it at the house?’

‘I think so. The Wizard and his wife are very hospitable.’

‘Wizard?’

‘That’s what they call Sir Michael Greenleaf. He has a laboratory where he does strange experiments. Some people laugh at him for that but he’s a kind man and a very generous one. His nickname is the Wizard of Silvermere.’

Honeydew laughed. ‘I’ve never met a Wizard before.’

‘You’ve certainly never met one like Sir Michael.’

Curled up in the same bed, they talked in the darkness until tiredness got the better of Honeydew. When he was sure that his friend was fast asleep, Davy slipped out of bed and moved towards the door. His eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom now and he knew exactly what he was going to do. Opening the door, he left it slightly ajar then reached for the little stool on which he had left his clothes. When he found that, he groped around for the chamber pot.

Richard Honeydew showed a keen interest in his friend’s visit to Essex but the other apprentices were more envious, resenting the fact that Davy had gone while they had remained under the watchful eye of Margery Firethorn. Envy was bound to lead to spite. In the short time he had been back, Davy had already been the victim of several jests and a few sly punches but he knew that there would be worse to come. John Tallis was the most likely attacker. He had more cause than either Martin Yeo or Stephen Judd, the other apprentices, to strike out at the newcomer. Davy had dispossessed him. It rankled with Tallis. Only four of the boys were being taken to Silvermere and he was the one to be excluded. Davy Stratton was to blame and Tallis wanted his revenge.

The new apprentice got back silently into bed but remained awake. He did not have long to wait before he heard the telltale sound of a foot on the stair. He also heard a squeaking noise. The footsteps came nearer then paused outside the door. An eye was applied to the gap. Davy lay under the sheets and pretended to be asleep. The nocturnal intruder took one more fatal step. The result was ear-splitting. As he opened the door, John Tallis dislodged both the stool that was balanced upside down on it and the full chamber pot that was cradled within the three legs. Both suddenly landed on his head with astonishing accuracy. Taken by surprise and hurt by the heavy objects, Tallis emitted a yell of pain and fell to the floor, kicking over a small table and releasing the live mouse he had brought to slip down Davy Stratton’s neck.

Margery Firethorn was the first to react. She came thundering up the stairs with a lighted candle to see what had caused the commotion. John Tallis was humiliated. Seated on the floor and soaked by the contents of the chamber pot, he rubbed the lump that was already sprouting on his skull and let out a long cry of despair. Margery lifted the candle in the direction of the bed where two pale-faced apprentices were sitting up with surprise.

Davy Stratton spoke with a voice of pure innocence.

‘I think that John had an accident,’ he said.

Notwithstanding its erratic landlord and its many defects, the Queen’s Head was the spiritual home of Westfield’s Men and they were delighted to be back there, albeit in such adverse conditions. Early rehearsals involving only the sharers had been held in a hired room at the inn but, now that the entire company was assembled, a larger space was required so they steeled themselves against the cold and went out into the deserted yard. Priority was given to The Witch of Colchester. The others five plays to be staged at Silvermere were stock dramas from their repertoire, works that needed only a limited amount of rehearsal. Egidius Pye’s comedy, however, required the close attention they paid to every new play as they explored its potentialities. Edmund Hoode had worked throughout two whole nights to make the necessary changes to the play and was now able to join the others at the Queen’s Head to rehearse his own role in it. While one scrivener hastened to finish a single complete copy of the play, another had copied out the sides for individual actors.

As the book holder, Nicholas Bracewell was the only person who had a copy of the whole play and he marvelled at the way that Hoode transformed it. Fearing that he would interfere and impede, Lawrence Firethorn had banned Pye from the rehearsals but promised him that he could attend its premiere at Silvermere. Nicholas felt sure that the lawyer would be pleased with what he witnessed, relieved to observe that his play was largely intact yet markedly improved by Hoode’s deft professional touches. Since it was the last of the six dramas to be presented, The Witch of Colchester could be rehearsed throughout their entire stay there, enabling the company to give a confident performance. Actors swooped happily on their parts and went through their scenes with relish. There was none of the insecurity and bickering that usually attended work on a new piece.

Nicholas was thrilled to be back at the helm again. Westfield’s Men had come out of their winter hibernation and their joy was touching. Even those hired men who would not be travelling with the company came to watch the rehearsal to warm their hands at the fire of a lively new drama and to share in the general pleasure. Davy Stratton was also there. He made only two fleeting appearances in the play as a servant and spoke only one line but he took it all very seriously. Davy had mixed feelings when he watched the other apprentices, taking the women’s roles with such persuasive skill, wondering when he would suffer the indignity of wearing female attire. Absorbed as he was in what was going on, the boy kept a wary eye out for John Tallis, who, ousted and humiliated by the newcomer, was prowling vengefully on the fringes.

At the end of a full day, Firethorn strolled across to the book holder.

‘We owe you our thanks, Nick,’ he said, patting his shoulder.

‘Why?’ said Nicholas.

‘For reminding us that we had such a splendid new play available.’

‘It’s even more splendid now that Edmund has worked his magic on it.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Firethorn with a chuckle, ‘but he was not above bowing to self-interest. The role he enlarged most substantially was the one he takes himself, that of Longshaft, the lawyer. Shortshrift, the other lawyer, was given short shrift.’

‘They’re both excellent parts.’

‘There’s no dull character in the whole play, Nick, even though it’s written by that very personification of dullness, the quibbling Master Pye.’

‘Give him his due,’ said Nicholas with admiration. ‘He has an acute mind.’

‘Too acute for Edmund’s liking!’

‘Don’t be harsh on him. Master Pye has many virtues. But you’ve no need to thank me for recommending his play,’ Nicholas continued. ‘I stand to benefit from it as much as anyone else. It’s a delight to be employed again and to see the happy faces of our fellows. The jollity even seems to have touched Davy at last.’

‘Yes,’ said Firethorn with reservation in his voice, ‘he’s acquitted himself well in his tiny role here. I just wish that he didn’t cause so many problems under my roof.’