'You don't understand,' she continued. 'Will had vowed that he'd never enter a Protestant church. He was a Catholic'
Nicholas reeled as if from a blow. A man whom he thought he had known quite well was turning out to have a whole new side to his character. Religion was something with which the actor had always seemed cheerfully unconcerned. It did not accord too well with the freebooting life of a hired man.
'He gave it up,' she said with pride. 'For me.'
'Are you quite certain of all this?'
'Oh, yes.'
'Will, of the old religion?'
'He was very devout.'
'You talked about it?'
'All the time. He showed me his Bible and his crucifix.'
'Did he say how long he'd followed Rome?'
'For years.'
Astonishment gave way to speculation. Nicholas began to wonder if the actor's ebullient manner was a kind of disguise, a wall behind which he hid himself so that nobody could get too close. If he could conceal his religion and his marriage so effectively, it was possible that he had other secrets.
Susan Fowler was now patently exhausted. The shock of it all was draining her strength and her eyelids were drooping. He told her to stay exactly where she was and went quickly downstairs. Anne Hendrik was waiting for him, schooling herself to be calm yet evidently upset by the situation. She continued to ply her needle and avert her eyes from him.
'An apology is due,' he began.
'Do not bother, sir,' she answered.
'The girl will have to pass the night in my chamber.'
'Oh, no!' said Anne, looking up at him. 'I make objection to that, Nicholas. This is not a tavern with rooms to let for any doxy who happens to pass by'
'Susan Fowler is no doxy.'
'Take her out of my house, if you please!'
'You hear what I say?'
'I care not what her name is.'
'Susan Fowler,' he repeated.
'She will not pass the night under my roof, sir.'
'The girl is Will Fowler's widow.'
Realization dawned on her and her jaw dropped. It was the last thing she had expected and filled her instantly with remorse. She looked upwards then put her sewing aside and rose from her chair. Her natural compassion flowed freely.
'Oh, the poor lass! Of course, she must stay--for as long as she wishes. i he girl should not be travelling alone in that condition.' She turned to Nicholas. 'Why did you not tell me that Will Fowler was married?'
'Because I only found out about it myself just now.' He flashed her a warm grin. 'Does this alter the case?'
A brief smile lit up her face and she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Duties intruded.
'If she is to sleep in that chamber, I must take up some clean bedding. And she may need help undressing.' Her hand went up to her mouth. 'Oh dear! What must she think of me, giving her such a frosty welcome when she came to my door?'
'She did not even notice it, Anne.'
'It was unpardonable.'
'Susan Fowler is concerned with weightier matters.'
'How long has she known?'
'Today.'
'No wonder the girl is in such distress. I'd better go up to her at once and see what I can do to help her.'
'She will be very grateful.'
Anne went bustling across the room then stopped in her tracks as a thought struck her. She swung round on her heel.
'If the girl is going to be in your bed...'
'Yes?'
'Where will you sleep?'
His grin broadened and she replied with a knowing smile.
It would give her the chance to show him how sorry she was.
(*)Chapter Five
Edmund Hoode laboured long and hard over Gloriana Triumphant, and it underwent several sea changes. The first decision he made was to set it in the remote past. Censorship of new plays was strict and Sir Edmund Tilney, the Master of the Revels, was especially vigilant for any political implications in a piece. A drama featuring the real characters and issues involved in the defeat of the Armada would be far too contentious to allow even if it were a paean of praise. The principals had to be disguised in some way and a shift in time was the easiest solution. Elizabeth therefore became the fabled Gloriana, Queen of an ancient land called Albion. Drake, Hawkins, Howard, Frobisher and the other seadogs all appeared under very different names. Spain was transmuted into an imperial power known as Iberia.
Creation came easily to some authors but Edmund Hoode was not one of them. He needed to correct and improve and polish his work all the time. It made for delays and heightened frustration. 'When will it be finished?' demanded Firethorn. Give me time,' said Hoode. You've been saying that for weeks.' It's taking shape, but slowly.'
'We need to have it in rehearsal soon,' reminded the other. 'It will first see the light of day at The Curtain next month.'
'That's what worries me, Lawrence.'
'Pah!'
The Curtain was one of the very few custom-built outdoor playhouses in London and Firethorn was delighted that Gloriana
Triumphant would have its premiere there. Apart from the fact that the theatre was close to his own home in Shoreditch, it offered far better facilities and a far larger audience than The Queen's Head. It was also patronized more extensively by the nobility--Lady Rosamund Varley among them--and this added to its lustre Edmund Hoode still had qualms.
'I do not like The Curtain.'
'It is ideal for our purposes.'
'The audience is too unruly.'
'Not when I am on stage,' boasted Firethorn.
'All they want are jigs and displays of combat.'
'Then they will be satisfied, sir. You give them a jig, two galliards and a coranto. What more can they ask? As for combat, they will watch the greatest sea battle in history.'
'I'm still not sure that it will work.'
'Leave it to Nicholas. He'll make it work.'
'But I have never put ships on stage before.'
'It is a brilliant device. When the cannons go off, the audience will believe they see the Armada itself sink below the waves.' Firethorn caressed his beard. 'There is just one small thing, Edmund.'
'What?' sighed the author. 'Your small things always turn out to be a complete rewrite of the play.'
'Not this time. A few lines here and there will suffice.'
'To what end?'
'We need more romance somehow.'
