Edward Marston - The Fair Maid of Bohemia

‘Is good. Ja?’ he shouted.

The whole company gave its reply in unison.

‘Is very good. Ja! Ja! Ja!’

***

Hours later, some of them were still draining the dregs of the joke. As they sat around a table at the White Cross, they revelled in their triumph and giggled at the memory of the Burgomaster’s letter.

‘Did you ever hear such stuff?’ howled Elias with a mug of beer in his hand. ‘That letter did everything but get down on its knees to lick the arse of the Burgomaster of Frankfurt.’

‘Do you speak of the Particularly Praiseworthy, Gracious and Ruling Herr Burgomaster?’ teased Ingram.

‘I do, James. Most humbly and cravenly.’ said Elias.

‘And do you really believe that our plays are free from all vices and condemnable tricks?’

‘No, I do not.’

‘They are full to the brim with both,’ said Firethorn.

‘Thank heaven!’ added Elias.

And the table roared again. Nicholas gave only a token smile. His amusement at the wording of the letter had soon faded and he was struck by the extraordinary benevolence that lay behind it. On the strength of his long interview with Nicholas-and before he had seen Westfield’s Men perform Love and Fortune -the Burgomaster had taken it upon himself to smooth their passage across Germany by writing to his counterpart in Frankfurt. He would no doubt have sent a covering letter of his own to reinforce the request to be allowed to play in the city.

Firethorn read the mind of his book-holder and moved him aside.

‘Do not blame them, Nick. They needed this laughter.’

‘I know.’

‘Besides,’ said the actor-manager, ‘that letter may not have sounded quite so obnoxious in German. Then again, it may have been far worse.’ He gave a chuckle, then lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘You are missing Anne, I think.’

‘Yes,’ admitted Nicholas. ‘Very much. I fear for her.’

‘There is no need.’

‘She is alone in a foreign country.’

‘Anne is a capable woman. She will survive.’

‘Adrian was a capable man. He did not.’

‘That was different, Nick.’

‘I know, and it is wrong of me to fret. She will have arrived safely in Amsterdam by now, where she will be looked after by the entire Hendrik family. They will be delighted that she has put herself to such trouble and expense in order to see her father-in-law once more.’ He took a meditative sip of his beer. ‘But I do miss her.’

‘The pain of separation!’ said Firethorn, stroking his beard. ‘I know it full well. I miss Margery and the children as I would miss limbs that have been hacked off. While I enjoy the hospitality of Cologne, they live in the shadow of the plague. I lie awake at night thinking of them. Especially Margery,’ he said with a nostalgic twinkle in his eye. ‘She is a rare creature indeed.’

‘I can vouch for that.’

‘Owen may lust after his eleven thousand virgins, but Margery is worth all of them together. She is the perfection of womanhood-and I pine for her.’

‘Write and tell her so,’ suggested Nicholas.

‘I will, I will.’

‘The friendly Burgomaster will tell us how to send letters back to England.’

‘Yes,’ said Firethorn. ‘He is so obliging that he will probably saddle his horse and ride off to deliver the letter for me in person. Is good? Ja?’

Firethorn emptied his own mug with one long swig, then set it down on the table. It was instantly refilled from a jug by a buxom tavern wench. He grinned lasciviously at her and forgot all about his long-suffering wife. As the girl bent over the next table to pour some more beer, he admired the generous proportions of her body with a practised eye. His thoughts flew swiftly to a much finer example of female beauty.

‘Sophia Magdalena,’ he sighed.

‘Edmund is working zealously on the play.’

‘I trust that he will enhance the importance of my role in it. I must dominate the stage as the tormented Earl who searches in vain for his lost child.’

‘The Earl has been changed to an Archduke of Austria.’

‘O happy transition!’

‘And your daughter is brought up by simple shepherds.’

‘My sweet, little, fair maid of Bohemia!’

‘Dick Honeydew will shine in the role.’

‘A pox on the role!’ said Firethorn dismissively. ‘The only person who shines in it is Sophia herself. She is radiant. Her beams are warmer than those of the sun. At the Queen’s Head, she lit up the whole innyard with her presence. That is where I sensed my kinship with her. Sophia Magdalena of Bohemia. My own fair maid. So eager to see me again that she prevailed upon the Emperor to invite us to Prague.’

‘That may not be quite what happened,’ said Nicholas.

‘What other explanation is there? She fell in love with the Grand Master and I lost my heart to her. That is why I will happily ride half-way across the Continent at her behest. She waits in Bohemia for her faithful knight to arrive.’

Nicholas forbore to point out that the knight’s fidelity had been pledged to his wife only minutes earlier. In talking with such fondness and consideration about Margery, the actor-manager had looked back wistfully to London. His gaze was now fixed on Prague and nothing would deflect him. The wayward knight now rode solely under the banner of Sophia Magdalena.

‘Onward!’ said Firethorn, holding an imaginary sword in the air. ‘In the east, my pleasure lies. Onward to Bohemia!’

‘The journey will be a difficult one.’

‘I will swim lakes to reach her. I will hew down whole forests. I will climb the mountains as Hannibal once did in search of conquest. Sophia is distraught without me.’

‘She is not the only person we seek in Prague,’ reminded Nicholas. ‘There are others.’

‘Not for me. Sophia Magdalena is enough. She is Prague.’

‘Emperor Rudolph is our host.’

‘Only because of her.’

‘That may well be, but we must pay due homage to him.’ He felt the pouch inside his jerkin. ‘And we have to deliver the documents to Doctor Talbot Royden.’

‘He has gone right out of my mind.’

‘Bring him back,’ urged Nicholas. ‘Keep his name in your thoughts. These documents have already cost Westfield’s Men dearly. As long as they are in our possession, the company remains in danger.’

‘From whom, Nick? That is what I want to know.’

‘We can but guess.’

‘The worst enemy is one who will not show himself.’

‘I brought him out of hiding this morning.’

‘But you did not see the villain. He remains a phantom.’

‘That is why we must exercise the greatest care,’ stressed Nicholas. ‘You have a burning desire to reach Prague. Let us be sure that the whole company reaches it with you.’

‘I will be Vigilance personified.’

‘We will all need to take that role.’

Firethorn quaffed his beer and leaned closer to him.

‘Who is this Talbot Royden?’ he wondered.

‘What did Lord Westfield tell you about him?’

‘Nothing beyond the fact that he was a doctor of repute. Our patron simply pressed that pouch into my hands and urged me to deliver it to this fellow.’

‘How did he speak the man’s name?’

‘His name?’

‘With pleasure?’ asked Nicholas. ‘With distaste? With familiarity? Can you remember?’

Firethorn was reflective. ‘It seems a long time ago, Nick. I was so thrilled at the idea of travelling to Bohemia that I paid scant attention to this trivial service we were asked to perform.’

‘Because of that trivial service, Adrian Smallwood died.’

‘Secrecy,’ recalled Firethorn. ‘That is what Lord Westfield sought to impress upon me. Above all else, the documents were to be kept secret. As they have been.’