By the Prioress he lay,
And there they betrayed good Robin Hood
Through their false play.
Christ have mercy on his soul!
(That died on the rood)
For Robin was a good outlaw
And did poor men much good.
Robin Hood now rounded on his Merry Men as if they had each tried to assassinate him during the performance. By the time Firethorn had finished reviling them for their incompetence and blaming them for their mere existence, their cheeks matched the colour of Will Scarlet's costume. The actor-manager spread his criticisms widely and even Barnaby Gill was made to squirm a little. Martin Yeo was totally demoralized by the attack on him. The only actor who emerged unscathed was Christopher Millfield. It put him in buoyant mood.
'How did it look to you, Master Bracewell?'
'There is much work to be done.'
'I was speaking of my own performance.'
'You sang most sweetly.'
'And my playing of Will Scarlet?'
'It was sufficient,' said Nicholas with polite evasion. 'You will not let the company down, sir.'
Millfield felt damned by faint praise. Wanting to impress the other, he had only irritated him by seeking his approval so obviously. He watched the book holder take control. Now that the rehearsal was over, Nicholas started delegating the dozens of jobs that had been thrown up in the past couple of hours. Several props had been damaged and needed repair, one of the trestles that held up the stage had to be strengthened, and two of the instruments required a new string apiece. Some of the costumes had been torn during the fight scenes and George Dart was assigned the task of mending them with needle and thread. Stephen Judd's wig was falling apart.
Nicholas was so caught up in his work that he did not see the danger that threatened. With his back to the stage, he was unaware of the fact that two of his minions were struggling to dismantle the gallows that was used in the closing scene of the play. It was far too heavy and awkward for them to handle and its weight finally got the better of them. Before they could stop it, the long spar of timber toppled over and fell towards Nicholas.
Christopher Millfield responded like lightning.
'Look out there!'
Hurling himself forward, he knocked the book holder out of the way and suffered a glancing blow from the falling prop. Nicholas picked himself up and turned to see what had happened. Millfield was now sitting on the floor and rubbing his shoulder gingerly.
'Are you hint, Christopher?
'It is nothing serious.'
'I owe you much thanks.' Millfield grinned. 'I saved you from the gallows.'
'And from certain injury.'
Nicholas upbraided the two assistants who caused the accident and got them to move the timber away. Then he offered a hand to Millfield and pulled him up. The latter dusted himself off and continued to rub his shoulder.
'I will remember this,' said Nicholas.
'You would have done as much for me.'
'In your place, I might have held back.'
'Because you do not like me?'
'It is reason enough.'
'But I like you, Master Bracewell.'
It was Nicholas's turn to grin. Millfield's manner was quite disarming and it was hard to bear a grudge against him. The book holder made a concession.
'Your performance was excellent, Christopher.'
'Thank you!'
'To speak truly, I am not sure that Gabriel Hawkes could have bettered it.'
'I seek no higher praise than that.'
'You will get none.'
They shared a laugh and much of the tension between them evaporated. All actors sought approval but Millfield seemed particularly anxious to win a plaudit from the book holder. It made him quite forget the pain in his shoulder. He reached out to take Nicholas by the arms.
'I will confess something to you,' he said.
'Must I be your priest?' teased the other.
'I am in earnest, Master Bracewell.'
'Speak on.'
'Gabriel was the finer actor.'
'Only in certain respects.'
'I am honest enough to admit it,' said Millfield seriously. 'He had more range and more depth. When you chose between us, you were right to take Gabriel Hawkes.'
'No other player would allow as much.'
'Why hide the truth when the fellow is no longer with us?' His grip tightened. 'I hated him for standing in my way. I wished Gabriel dead so that I could take his place but I did not hasten his end, that I swear. If he was murdered, as you believe, then it was by another.'
Nicholas looked deep into his eyes and lost many of the suspicions and resentments he harboured against the man. Christopher Millfield had his faults but they were largely those of his profession. The book holder sealed their newfound friendship with a warm handshake that made the other wince. Concern took over.
'Let me look at that shoulder of yours.'
'It is of no account.'
'You are still in pain, I can see.'
Millfield was eventually persuaded to take off his scarlet tunic so that Nicholas could examine the injury. The shoulder was badly grazed where the timber had struck but no blood had been drawn. Nicholas used tender fingers to explore the damage then got his companion to lift his arm straight up then rotate it. He gave his diagnosis.
'You are lucky, Christopher. Nothing is broken.'
'I will get away with a few bruises.'
'And a lot of stiffness,' said Nicholas. 'Give me some time and I will prepare an ointment to put on your shoulder. It will ease the soreness.'
'Then it is most welcome. How will you make it?'
'With herbs.'
'Are you a physician as well?'
I learned much from the ships doctor when I was at sea. Aches and pains are part of every sailor's lot and I studied the way to soften them. The knowledge has been of use many a time.'
'No patient will be more grateful than I.'
'The gratitude is all on my side.'
'Your friendship is reward enough.'
'It comes with the ointment.'
Millfield grinned. 'Both will be cherished.'
When the actor went off to get changed, Nicholas was soon joined by another companion. Oliver Quilley had been watching the rehearsal attentively throughout. If he was to create a miniature of the actor-manager, it must contain all of his characteristic and these were most evident when he was onstage. Quilley missed nothing.
'Is Master Firethorn always so fierce?'
'You saw but a muted account of him today.'
'There's more ferocity to come?'
'He saves it for the audience.'
'I wait with interest,' said Quilley. 'When I paint a portrait, I want it to be as complete a picture as is
