Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

Lord Malady was the first on stage, accompanied by his devoted wife who had nursed him through his latest mysterious illness. It was a clever scene, touching in some ways, yet undeniably comic as well, full of dramatic irony for a discerning audience. When Doctor Putrid entered, the comedy was immediately sharpened as he engaged in a verbal duel with Malady. Leading by example, Firethorn and Gill were putting far more effort into their roles than they had earlier done. Others who joined them on stage also tried to be more positive. All went well until Martin Yeo, in the person of Griselda, had to bend down to pick a discarded flower from the ground. Trained in graceful movement, Yeo was utterly convincing as a young woman as he retrieved the blood red rose. The illusion was not maintained. As soon as he straightened up, he let out such a cry of pain that it made the other actors jump back. Holding his buttocks and yelping madly, he ran in circles around the stage as if his posterior were on fire.

Sympathy was in short supply. Firethorn castigated him for spoiling the rehearsal, Gill added his scorn, Honeydew sniggered, Elias laughed, Judd frowned and Hoode simply gaped in dismay. It was left to Nicholas to offer practical assistance. Leaping on to the stage, he grabbed hold of Yeo, ordered him to stand still then helped him out of his costume to reveal the cause of his agony. A piece of bramble had been cunningly inserted into the material so that it made its presence known when the boy bent over. Extracting the thorns from Yeo’s buttocks, Nicholas drew the loudest howls yet from the apprentice. He held up the bramble that had ruined the rehearsal of the scene.

‘Davy Stratton!’ he called. ‘Come out here, lad.’

Reverend Anthony Dyment was in a quandary. As chaplain at Silvermere, he was eager not to offend Sir Michael Greenleaf yet he was equally unwilling to give Reginald Orr grounds for showing further contempt. The invitation to attend Double Deceit had caused him immense discomfort. If he went to the play, he would be accused by Orr of making a pact with the Devil; if he refused, it would upset the man who had given him both the chaplaincy and the living at St Christopher’s. Compromise was impossible. In the event, he pleaded a severe headache and missed the performance but he was keen to placate Sir Michael and repaired to Silvermere the next day. Admitted to the house, he could hear the voices of the actors in rehearsal in the Great Hall. Dyment was taken by a servant to the room where his master spent so much time. Sir Michael was in his laboratory, mixing some of his new gunpowder and talking to Jerome Stratton.

‘Come in, Anthony,’ said the scientist, seeing the vicar arrive. ‘I hope that you’ve recovered completely from your headache.’

‘I have, Sir Michael,’ said Dyment. ‘God be praised.’

‘Praised indeed. Yours is the second speedy recovery for which we must thank Him. At the end of yesterday’s play, Lawrence Firethorn lost his voice and could not utter a word. Doctor Winche could do nothing for him. Then poor Master Firethorn drank a potion and the power of speech returned at once.’

‘Amazing!’ said Dyment.

‘Was this medicine the doctor’s concoction?’ asked Stratton.

‘No, Jerome. It came from a more questionable source.’

‘And where was that?’

‘Mother Pigbone.’

The vicar was disturbed. ‘You’d entrust the health of a guest to her?’

‘Mother Pigbone has a reputation as a physician.’

‘I’m not sure that it’s one I’d trust, Sir Michael.’

‘Nor I,’ muttered Stratton. ‘But the patient is well again, you say?’

Sir Michael beamed. ‘Step into the hall and you’ll hear him bellowing like a bull.’ He switched his gaze to Dyment. ‘But I’m so sorry that you had to forego the pleasure of seeing Double Deceit . It would have dispelled anyone’s headache. My wife and I have never laughed so much in all our lives.’

‘I wish I’d seen it myself,’ said Stratton.

‘Yes, Jerome. It was a pity that business affairs kept you away. You’d have loved it, especially as Davy flitted across the stage at one point. Join us tomorrow and you’ll see the company in more tragic vein.’

‘I’ll be there, Sir Michael. What about you, Anthony?’

Dyment shifted his feet. ‘That may be difficult, I fear.’

‘You don’t have any qualms about watching a play, do you?’ said Stratton.

‘Not at all. I appeared in more than one while an undergraduate at Oxford.’

‘But they were usually in Latin,’ noted Sir Michael, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth. ‘And always on some religious theme. Westfield’s Men present drama of a more immediate nature. They show the weaknesses of man and hold him up to ridicule. Double Deceit was an hilarious sermon on the eternal follies of the human condition. It would have given you great amusement, Anthony.’

‘Perhaps so, Sir Michael, though I’m not entirely persuaded that a man of the cloth ought to be amused in that way.’

‘Laughter is good for the soul, man.’

‘That depends on what kind of laughter it is.’

‘You’re beginning to sound like a sour-faced Puritan,’ said Stratton. ‘Everyone is entitled to enjoyment and that’s what a theatre company offers.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, Master Stratton.’

‘Jerome has no worries at all about Westfield’s Men,’ remarked Sir Michael chirpily. ‘If he had, he wouldn’t have apprenticed his own son to them.’

‘Quite,’ said Stratton.

‘To watch them at work is a profound education, Anthony.’

‘I’m sure that it is,’ said the vicar, ‘but not everyone accepts that view. It’s one of the reasons I called this morning. Sir Michael. To give you fair warning.’

‘Of what?’

‘Further trouble from Reginald Orr.’

‘That rogue!’ said Stratton angrily. ‘We should drive him out of Essex.’

Dyment pursed his lips. ‘That’s the fate he wishes on Westfield’s Men, I fear. When I spoke to him yesterday, he was in buoyant mood, assuring me that they would never even get as far as Silvermere. Master Orr was deeply upset to learn that they’d already done so.’

‘That’s because he probably arranged that ambush for them,’ said Sir Michael. ‘Did he say anything to that effect, Anthony?’

‘He was careful to give nothing away.’

‘Have him arrested on suspicion, Sir Michael,’ advised Stratton.

‘It’s not as simple as that, Jerome.’

‘The man is a danger.’

‘That’s why I came to warn you, Sir Michael,’ said Dyment. ‘If one thing fails, he’ll try another. Keep your house well guarded. Protect your players.’

‘I’m doing just that,’ replied Sir Michael. ‘And the players are extremely good at protecting themselves. They’ll not be scared off by a fanatic like Reginald Orr.’

‘He disapproves of plays.’

‘Orr disapproves of everything ,’ said Stratton harshly.

‘That’s his business,’ said Sir Michael, ‘until he commits a crime, of course, when it becomes mine. I did warn him. If he comes up before me again, I’ll impose the stiffest sentence that I can.’

‘He ought to be hanged, drawn and quartered.’

The older man was tolerant. ‘For holding some extreme views about religion? Come now, Jerome. We must live and let live. Orr is a nuisance but he doesn’t deserve the punishment we reserve for treason. Well,’ he continued, smiling at the vicar, ‘since you missed Double Deceit , I insist that you watch one of the other plays.’

Dyment trembled. ‘Must I, Sir Michael?’

‘It’s the least you can do. Give them the blessing of the church.’