'Romance?'
'Yes,' explained Firethorn, slapping the table for effect. 'I am portrayed as a famous hero and rightly so, but there must be another side to my character. Show me as a great lover!'
'During a sea battle?'
'Insert a scene on land. Perhaps two.'
It was yet another example of the influence that Lady Rosamund Varley was having upon him. Since she had taken an interest in him, he went out of his way to present himself in the most attractive light. To play a love scene on stage was a means of rehearsing a dalliance with the lady herself. Firethorn was ready to distort the drama with incongruous material so that he could convey a message to one person in the audience.
'We already have romance,' argued Hoode.
'Between whom?'
'The seamen and their ships. The subjects and their queen. The people and their country. It is all love in one form or another.'
'Give me real passion!' insisted Firethorn.
'Passion?'
'Between a man and a woman.'
'But there's no reason for it.'
'Invent one.'
They were sitting in the room at Hoode's lodgings where the author had spent so many interminable nights struggling with the play. He looked down at the sheaf of papers that made up Gloriana Triumphant. To contrive a love affair would mean radical alterations to the whole structure but he knew that he had to comply. Firethorn was relentless in his persistence.
Hoode's mind wandered back to an earlier humiliation.
'I played my first important role at The Curtain.'
'Were you well-received?'
'They threw apple cores at me.'
'Ungrateful dolts!'
'It was an omen,' said the author gloomily. 'The Curtain has never been a happy place for me.'
'We will change all that with Gloriana Triumphant!
Edmund Hoode did not share his optimism. Like most men who took their precarious living from the playhouse, he was racked by superstition. Those apple cores still hurt.
*
Being married to one of the finest actors in England was an experience which would have cowed most wives but Margery
Firethorn rose to the challenge splendidly. She was a woman of strong character with a Junoesque figure, an aggressive beauty and a bellicose charm. There were four apprentices to look after as well as two small children of her own and occasional lodgers from the company, and she ran the household with a firm hand and a fearless tongue
She enjoyed a tempestuous relationship with her husband and they shuttled at will between loathing and love, so much so that the two extremes sometimes became interchangeable. It made the house in Shoreditch a lively place.
'Who is she, Barnaby?'.'
'I have no idea what you are talking about.'
'Lawrence is smitten again.'
'Only with you, Margery,' he said with mock innocence.
'I feel it in my bones.'
'Marriage has many ailments.'
'How would you know?'
He rolled his eyes and gave her a disarming smirk. It was Sunday and Barnaby Gill had called at the house, ostensibly to pay his respects, but chiefly to feed her suspicions about the existence of a new amour in her husband's life. When she pressed him further, he deployed innuendo and denial with such skill that he confirmed all she had guessed at. Smug satisfaction warmed him. It was always pleasing to spread marital disharmony.
The performance of plays was forbidden on the Sabbath and not even the reckless Firethorn was ready to flout that ruling within the City walls. Lord Westfield's Men had a nominal day of rest though it rarely worked out like that.
Barnaby Gill glanced around and tried to sound casual.
'Is young Dick Honeydew at home?'
'Why do you ask?'
'I wanted a word with the lad.'
'Indeed?'
Margery Firethorn had got his measure the first time that she had ever met him. Though she liked him and found him amusing company at times, she never forgot the more sinister aspect of Barnaby Gill and it brought out her protective instinct. 'Is he here?'
'I don't think so. He was going to sword practice.'
'Oh.'
'Nicholas promised to instruct him.'
'The boy should have come to me. I'd have taught him to thrust and parry. Where is this instruction taking place?'
'I cannot tell you.'
'Would any of the other lads know?'
'They are not here, Barnaby.'
'I see,' said the other, angry at being baulked. 'Nicholas
Bracewell is getting above himself. Dick is apprenticed to Edmund Hoode and it's he who should bear the responsibility for the boy's training. It should not be left to a menial like a book holder.'
'Nicholas is much more than that,' she replied with spirit. 'You do him a grave disservice. As for Edmund, he's so busy with this latest play of his that he has no time to spend with the child and is grateful for any help.'
Though she was kept very much on the fringe of events, Margery Firethorn could see how much the book holder contributed to the running of the company, but that was not the only reason why she rushed to his defence. She was particularly fond of him. In a profession with more than its share of self-importance and affectation, he stood out as a modest soul and a true gentleman.
'I will bid you farewell,' said Gill.
'Good day, Barnaby.'
'And remember what I told you.'
'About Lawrence?'
'There is no other lady in his life.'
His tone made it quite clear that there was. Having assured Firethorn of a stormy reception when next he came home, Barnaby Gill took his leave. As he walked abroad through the streets of Shored itch, he thought about the pleasures there might be in instructing Richard Honeydew how to use a sword and dagger. An opportunity would surely come one day.
Margery, meanwhile, turned to her household duties. She was in the middle of upbraiding the servant girl when there was a loud banging at the front door. A breathless George Dart was admitted. Margery glared down at him and the diminutive stagekeeper cowered in fear.
why do you make such noise at my door?' she demanded. Master Bracewell sent me,' he said between gulps for air.
'For what purpose?'
'To fetch Dick Honeydew.'
'He's already gone.'
'Are you sure, mistress? He has not turned up for sword practice. Master Bracewell has waited over an hour.'
