Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘That incident you told me about was clearly John Tallis’s fault. He went up to the attic to give Davy a fright and got one himself instead.’

‘Oh, I agree. John Tallis was deservedly baptised by a full chamber pot. But the boyish antics didn’t end there, Nick. Our new apprentice has been stirring up trouble on his own account. He baited Martin Yeo, hid Stephen Judd’s clothes, swore at one of the servants and stamped on the other’s toe.’

‘Did your wife remonstrate with him?’

‘Only when she finally caught him,’ said Firethorn bitterly. ‘The little devil did his favourite trick and disappeared. It took Margery an hour to find him.’

‘Where was he?’

‘On the roof. He’d climbed out through the window.’

‘In this weather?’ said Nicholas in alarm. ‘Frost has made the thatch treacherous. The lad might have fallen and injured himself.’

‘I almost wish that he had, Nick. It would have taught him a lesson.’

‘Why is Davy being so mischievous?’

‘I wish I knew. I warned him that, if it goes on like this, he’ll get the thrashing of his young life from Margery. But even that doesn’t seem to have stopped the imp.’ He sighed wearily. ‘Honestly, Nick, I never thought I’d say this but I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t taken him in. He’s upsetting the whole house.’

Nicholas was surprised. When he looked across at Davy, the apprentice was talking earnestly to Richard Honeydew. There was no hint of devilment in either of them. Davy Stratton, in particular, had an almost angelic expression on his face.

‘Let me have a word with him,’ volunteered Nicholas.

‘Please do,’ said Firethorn. ‘He has a great respect for you.’

‘It didn’t stop him abandoning me in the middle of that forest.’

‘I’m starting to see why his father was so eager to get rid of the lad. If Davy behaves like that at home, he must be an absolute menace. Margery and I are bracing ourselves for another difficult night with him.’

‘Is it that serious?’

‘Yes, Nick. Martin, Stephen and John Tallis are all out for his blood and there’s no telling what Davy will get up to next.’

Nicholas grew thoughtful. ‘Perhaps he needs time away from the house.’

‘Either he does or we do.’

‘How would you feel if he stayed in Bankside for a night or two?’

‘Profoundly guilty.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it would be unfair to inflict Davy on you and Anne.’

‘He’ll behave himself with us, I’m sure,’ said Nicholas. ‘Being with the other apprentices is what sets him off. Divide and rule. It’s the sensible way.’

‘I’d be eternally grateful to you and Anne.’

‘I’ll have to speak to her first, of course, because it’s Anne’s house but I don’t think she’ll object. Besides,’ said Nicholas, ‘I like Davy. If we spend some time together, I may be able to find out why he’s misbehaving so badly like this.’

Further discussion was halted by the arrival of Barnaby Gill who wanted to argue for some changes in his lines and petition for an additional dance in Act Three. Edmund Hoode soon joined the debate. Nicholas took the opportunity to detach the troublesome apprentice from the others.

‘Come on, Davy,’ he said.

‘Where are we going?’ asked the boy, trotting across to him.

‘To teach you something about taking the company on tour. It’s easy enough when we play here at the Queen’s Head where we keep our costumes, properties and scenery. If we travel outside London, we have to ensure that we take only what we need.’

‘I see.’

‘George!’ called Nicholas.

‘Coming!’ replied a voice from within a melee of actors.

‘We must check the properties.’

‘At once.’

The diminutive figure of George Dart emerged from the group to join them. As assistant stagekeeper, Dart was able and conscientious. As an actor, however, he was intermittently disastrous and, even though shielded by Nicholas, often became the company’s whipping boy. The book holder led Dart and Davy off to the room where the properties were stored, drawing a gasp of astonishment from the apprentice when he unlocked the door. Objects of all colour and description were piled high. The place was so crammed with the accumulated properties of Westfield’s Men that there was barely enough room for all three of them to enter.

‘You can help George,’ instructed Nicholas.

‘Yes, Master Bracewell,’ said Davy.

‘And be careful while you’re about it. We don’t want anything to be damaged.’

‘We’ll need the small throne for The Insatiate Duke ,’ said Dart, anxious to impress with his knowledge of the plays, ‘and the larger one for Henry the Fifth.’

‘One throne will suffice for both plays,’ decided Nicholas. ‘It will save space in the cart. King Henry will have to make do with the small throne on this occasion. We’ll set it up high for him so that it seems larger than it is.’

George Dart nodded. ‘Shall we get it out now?’

‘No, we’ll work through this list I’ve prepared. Are you ready, Davy?’

‘Yes,’ said the boy, staring in horror at a human skull.

‘Item, Cupid’s bow and quiver; the cloth of the Sun and Moon. Put them out in the passageway for the time being,’ said Nicholas, pointing. ‘We’ll load them into the cart and lock it in the stables for safety.’

Helped by the apprentice, Dart searched for the required items. When they were found, Nicholas consulted the long list that he had so patiently written out, taking care to select items that could serve in more than one play.

‘Item, four wooden targets; one breastplate of armour and three foils.’ They were swiftly retrieved from the mass of properties. ‘Item, one lion skin, one bear skin and one snake.’

‘A snake?’ said Davy, anxiously. ‘Is it a live one?’

‘Only when it’s on stage in The Happy Malcontent ,’ said Nicholas.

‘I don’t like snakes.’

‘Wait until you see our serpent,’ said Dart, finding the items requested. ‘It scares me every time even though I know that it’s only made out of painted cloth.’

‘Item,’ continued Nicholas, ‘two coffins, a boar’s head and a cauldron.’

‘What play will they be in?’ wondered Davy.

‘ The Witch of Colchester .’

‘It’s the wildest comedy I know,’ said Dart, giggling. ‘I could hardly stop laughing when we rehearsed it today.’

‘Yes, George,’ chided Nicholas, gently, ‘you were so busy shaking with mirth that you missed your own entrance. Plays are there to make the spectators laugh, not the actors performing them. Take especial care with that cauldron. It’s heavy.’

Locating the cauldron under a wooden canopy and a pile of assorted crowns, they rolled it out into the passageway. Davy was struck by its enormous size.

‘What is the witch of Colchester going to put in there?’ he said.

‘All sorts of things,’ replied Nicholas with a smile. ‘Herbs, flowers, wine, water, bits of dead animals and any new apprentice who doesn’t behave himself properly.’

His light-hearted remark struck home in a way he had not intended. Blushing a bright crimson, Davy let out a cry, backed away in embarrassment then charged quickly out of the room. Nicholas was almost as surprised as the open-mouthed George Dart.

Reginald Orr was not a man to make idle threats or to be deflected from a course of action once he had committed himself to it. Though he was highly respected in the small Puritan community of which he was the acknowledged head, he was privately feared by a number of his sect who felt that his beliefs were too extreme and his inclination to violence very worrying. Nothing seemed to deter Orr, a man sufficiently wealthy to be untroubled by any fines imposed on him and sufficiently robust to withstand being set in the stocks. He lived in a sizeable house on the edge of Stapleford, a meeting hall for his fellow Puritans and, more often than not, their place of worship. Only one person called on him that evening and he was given a most cordial welcome.