Edward Marston - The Fair Maid of Bohemia

‘Your ingratitude is of no concern here, Barnaby,’ said Firethorn with a dismissive wave. ‘Edmund and I both embrace Nick’s recommendation. Our two voices silence your lone and ridiculous protest. Smallwood is our man, and there’s an end to it.’ He beamed with satisfaction. ‘Now, what’s next to be settled?’

‘Our repertoire,’ reminded Nicholas. ‘Until I know which plays we mean to offer, I cannot assemble the costumes and properties which need to travel with us.’

Firethorn was peremptory. ‘That is easily resolved. We will play Black Antonio, Vincentio’s Revenge, Hector of Troy, The Corrupt Bargain and The Knights of Malta .’ When he saw Gill spluttering with rage, he threw in a concession. ‘To please the rougher palates, we might also perform Cupid’s Folly .’

‘No!’ howled Gill. ‘I’ll not permit such an outrage!’

‘Then we’ll omit Cupid’s Folly altogether.’

‘This is monstrous!’

‘I am bound to agree, Lawrence,’ ventured Hoode boldly. ‘Every play you listed is a tragedy in which you take the leading part. Comedy will be more welcome to an audience which may not speak our language, and even a Titan of the stage such as Lawrence Firethorn needs to take a secondary role at times in order to rest himself in readiness for his next great portrayal of a tragic hero.’

‘Bohemia must see me at my best!’ boomed Firethorn.

‘Why, so it shall. But it also deserves to see Barnaby Gill at his best, and Owen Elias and James Ingram. Even a player of such modest talents as my own has the right to shine a little, and your repertoire forbids me. Cupid’s Folly would be high on my list and not tossed in as an afterthought.’

‘It would be first on my list,’ added Gill.

‘What!’ cried Firethorn. ‘That low, despicable, rustic comedy stuffed with songs and dances?’

‘Those songs and dances are the very reason that it must be included,’ reasoned Nicholas, taking up the argument. ‘They carry their own meaning with them. Stirring rhetoric will be lost on foreign ears. Edmund is correct. Comedy is a surer way to success. Where tragedy is called for, choose a play that already has a significance for the spectators. They will certainly know the story of Hector of Troy , but I fear that Black Antonio will confuse them, and Vincentio’s Revenge will lead to even deeper bewilderment. Simplicity must be our watchword. The more they understand, the more our audiences will enjoy.’

‘Well-spoken, Nicholas!’ said Gill approvingly. It was praise indeed from one who so often maligned the book-holder. ‘You have given us true guidance.’

‘I say Amen to that,’ supported Hoode.

Firethorn sulked. ‘I must be allowed to share some of my glorious roles with our hosts. They will expect it from me. That is why the Emperor invited Westfield’s Men in the first place. He heard of my reputation.’

‘ Our reputation, Lawrence,’ corrected Hoode. ‘You are not the company in its entirety.’

‘Indeed, no,’ said Gill, seizing on the chance to laud it over his rival. ‘Let us be candid. Why have we been invited to play in Prague by a sovereign who has never been within a hundred miles of our work? Because he has been told about us. And by whom? Why, by his great-niece. By that dear creature who so applauded my performance in The Knights of Malta that her palms must have smarted for a week.’ He sat up straight and preened himself. ‘I am the reason this honour has befallen us. She begged this favour of her great-uncle because she is so desperate to see my art sparkle on a stage again.’

‘Any woman who is desperate to see you will only meet with further desperation,’ said Firethorn pointedly. ‘I know full well that it is the beauteous Sophia Magdalena who is the source of this invitation to the Imperial Court. But it is not your Maltese capering which has stayed in her mind. It is my portrayal of Jean de Valette. A Grand Master fit for this grand mistress.’ He inflated his barrel chest. ‘Whatever we omit, it will not be The Knights of Malta .’

‘Perforce, it must be,’ said Nicholas.

‘Never!’

‘The decision is already taken.’

‘By whom?’

‘By you, by Edmund, and by Master Gill. In reducing the size of the company, you make such a piece impossible to stage. We do not have enough actors to do it justice. Besides,’ said Nicholas, ‘it is not a suitable play for our audiences. It touches on religious and political themes that may give offence to our hosts if they manage to understand them. We are guests in foreign courts and that imposes discretion upon us. Mock their religion or pour scorn upon their government and our visit would swiftly be curtailed.’

‘I had not thought of that,’ admitted Firethorn.

‘Choose our plays with the utmost care,’ said Hoode.

Gill nodded. ‘Let Cupid’s Folly take pride of place.’

Lawrence Firethorn lapsed into a brooding silence. Nicholas Bracewell was his most trusted colleague, yet it was the book-holder who had dealt him the blow to his pride. When the company embarked on its tour abroad, some of the actor’s finest roles would be left behind in England. Firethorn felt like a gladiator who is deprived of his weapons as he is about to encounter the most testing adversary of his career.

‘Sophia wants me,’ he sighed. ‘She has persuaded her great-uncle to summon us to his court so that she may feast on my genius. I must have something remarkable to set before her gaze. She must see Lawrence Firethorn in his prime.’

‘And so she shall,’ reassured Hoode.

‘Not in some base, barren piece like Cupid’s Folly .’

Nicholas intervened. ‘I have a suggestion that may answer all needs,’ he said. ‘If we are to be guests at the Court of the Holy Roman Empire, we should at least take an appropriate gift with us. What better gift from a theatre company than a new play? And what better play than one which celebrates one of the illustrious spectators who will be present?’

‘Rudolph himself?’ asked Gill.

‘No. The generous lady who has made our visit possible. Sophia Magdalena, the great-niece of the Emperor. A play in honour of her would delight our hosts and enable us to give our due thanks for the honour accorded us.’

‘A wonderful idea!’ said Firethorn, reviving as he saw the potential benefits. ‘A sprightly comedy written to enchant her and to give free rein to my superlative skills upon the stage. God bless you, Nick! This meets all needs. Edmund will write the play and we will lay it at her feet as our offering.’

‘You are more likely to lay me at her feet,’ moaned Hoode. ‘If I am to spend the journey to Prague in the devising of some new drama, I will be exhausted by the time we get there. It is a hopeless commission. There is no way that I may accomplish it.’

‘There is, Edmund,’ said Nicholas evenly.

‘A new play would take me months to write.’

‘That is why it will not be entirely new.’

‘But that was your argument.’

‘What I spoke of was a play that celebrated the kind lady who has looked so favourably upon us. It already exists.’

‘Who is its author?’

‘Edmund Hoode.’

‘You are talking in riddles, Nick.’

‘Am I?’ said the other with a grin. ‘Have you so soon forgotten The Chaste Maid of Wapping? ’

‘But that has no bearing upon Bohemia and no relevance whatsoever to Sophia Magdalena.’

‘It could have. A subtle pen like yours could make the necessary changes in a matter of days. Your chaste maid is brought up in the belief that the humble folk of Wapping with whom she lives are her true family. It is only at the end of the play that she discovers she is really the daughter of an earl, stolen from her cradle at birth but reunited with her real father at the end.’