Edward Marston - The Fair Maid of Bohemia

‘I will go with them,’ he said.

‘That is where you belong, Nick.’

‘But I’ll not spent a day longer apart from you than I have to, Anne. You must sail for Holland, and so must we. Let us at least travel together as far as Flushing. The sea is in my blood, as you know, and I would love to share its mystery with you even on so short a voyage. Shall you sail beside me?’

‘Always!’ she vowed.

They sealed their love with a surge of renewed passion.

The next few days were among the most hectic that Westfield’s Men had ever known. Preparations which should have taken a month were made with wild haste in a fraction of that time. Decisions which needed the most careful consideration were reached with undue speed. Mistakes were inevitably made but their consequences would not become clear until a later date. Eager to escape the plague, the company was about to rush off on a headlong adventure which had implications that they had not even begun to see, let alone to appraise properly.

News of the impending departure struck the players in a variety of ways. Some shared the excitement of Lawrence Firethorn and indulged in grandiose fantasies about triumphs in foreign courts. Others thought less about where they were going than what they would leave behind in a perilous city. Married actors feared for their families while their wives and children in turn grieved for them. Westfield’s Men were about to set off on a journey into the unknown. While that prospect might inspire a questing spirit like Owen Elias, it daunted a more cautious creature such as Edmund Hoode, and it left a lesser mortal like George Dart positively gibbering with terror.

The first and most important task was to determine the composition of the touring company. Preference was given to the sharers-those with a financial stake in Westfield’s Men which gave them certain rights-and to the apprentices. Only a few of the hired men could be taken, and versatility was the key factor.

‘My choice falls on Clement Islip,’ said Barnaby Gill.

‘We all know that!’ murmured Lawrence Firethorn.

‘Clement is a gifted young man.’

‘So he should be, Barnaby. You have showered enough gifts on him these past few months. Has he been duly grateful?’

‘Clement is a musician,’ reminded Edmund Hoode, ‘and not a player. We need someone who can play an instrument and take his share of the smaller parts.’

‘He can do both,’ insisted Gill. ‘He lacks instruction in acting, that is all. Clement will quickly blossom into an actor if I take him in hand.’

‘Have you not already done so?’ teased Firethorn.

‘That is a gross calumny!’ exploded Gill.

‘We are met to choose the best company we can muster. Not to find some simpering bedfellow for you, Barnaby.’

‘Clement Islip would be an asset to us.’

‘He is a male varlet who plays a viol tolerably well.’

‘This is unendurable!’

‘Let us forget Clement,’ said Hoode tactfully. ‘He is not the man for this occasion. A fine musician, I grant you, but too young and of too delicate a constitution to withstand the stresses that a long tour will place upon us. I am sorry, Barnaby. My vote is cast for Ralph Groves.’

‘My mind inclines that way, too,’ said Firethorn.

‘Well, mine does not,’ snapped Gill. ‘Ralph Groves is a disgrace to this noble profession of ours. I’ll not take a blundering fool like him to the Imperial Court.’

‘Ralph can both act and sing,’ argued Hoode.

‘But he can do neither with any distinction.’

‘Let’s hear what Nick has to say,’ suggested Firethorn.

Nicholas Bracewell had remained silent throughout the long and acrimonious debate. As the book-holder, he was merely a hired man with the company, and its decisions lay in the hands of the three major sharers. He only gave his advice when it was sought. The four men were sitting around a table in one of the Eastcheap taverns. Firethorn’s house in Shoreditch was the usual venue for meetings about company policy, but the actor-manager had considerately moved it well out of earshot of his wife on the grounds that a prolonged discussion of his departure from the country would only cause further anguish to Margery. Eastcheap had also been chosen in preference to Gracechurch Street because the hovering presence of its landlord would have made the Queen’s Head a difficult place in which to talk in private.

‘Well, Nick?’ prompted Hoode. ‘What’s your opinion?’

‘Clement Islip or Ralph Groves?’ asked Firethorn.

‘Neither,’ said Nicholas quietly. ‘Both have their virtues and both have served us well in their own ways at the Queen’s Head. But this tour will make special demands on every one of us and test our resources to the full. I do not believe that either Clement or Ralph would be equal to the challenge.’

‘Then who is to come in their place?’ said Gill.

‘Adrian Smallwood.’

‘Smallwood!’ sneered the other. ‘Can this be serious counsel? Adrian Smallwood has only been with Westfield’s Men for five minutes. And will you promote him over a more worthy and long-serving contender than Clement Islip?’

‘Yes,’ returned Nicholas. ‘It is true that Adrian has been with us for less than a month, but in that time he has proved himself beyond question. Not only is he a fine actor, he can also sing, dance and play the lute. He is the most complete man we have and it would be folly to leave him behind.’

Firethorn nodded. ‘I see your reasoning, Nick, and it is as sound as ever. Because he is such a newcomer, I had not even taken Adrian Smallwood into my calculations. Now that I have, I begin to appreciate his merits.’

‘So do I,’ said Hoode thoughtfully. ‘A lutanist will be sorely needed on this tour and I have heard Adrian upon the instrument. He is a trained musician who will give us all that Clement would have given us.’

‘That is not true!’ countered Gill.

‘No,’ agreed Firethorn. ‘Adrian will certainly not give you what that prancing viol-player would have offered. But his contribution to the company as a whole will be far greater.’

‘Not merely on the stage,’ said Nicholas. ‘There is another factor we must weigh in the balance here. We are all so keen to reach Bohemia itself that we have forgotten how long and how dangerous the journey there may be. Holland and Germany have their robber bands and masterless men just as we have here. When we travel through open country, we will seem like easy prey to outlaws. We must be able to defend ourselves.’

‘My sword is ready,’ asserted Firethorn. ‘And so will yours be, Nick. Owen Elias is a doughty fighter as well, so that gives us three weapons we may call upon.’

‘More than that,’ said Nicholas. ‘We have others who can handle a rapier and dagger. James Ingram, for one. Even Edmund here, in extremity. But in Adrian Smallwood we have someone as strong and capable as any of us. There may be situations in which those qualities turn out to be vital.’ He glanced across at Gill. ‘With respect to Clement Islip, I do not believe that he would render the same help in an emergency.’

Firethorn chuckled. ‘All that Clement could do would be to beat off an ambush with his bow or play a sad melody on his viol while the rest of us were being butchered. No,’ he decided, thumping the table with an authoritative palm, ‘we do not even have to look at Clement Islip or at Ralph Groves. The man of the hour is assuredly Adrian Smallwood.’

‘I accept that willingly,’ said Hoode, ‘and we should be grateful to Nick for discerning the value in a man whom we had all overlooked.’

‘I am not grateful!’ said Gill sourly.