Day of Deliverance

Fanshawe nodded and took a sip of beer. “Well that’s true. But they just disappeared…” He stared, unblinking, into space as he recalled the moment.

Jack shrugged. “Sorry, Harry, I can’t really explain it — there are more things in heaven and earth and all that…”

“So shouldn’t we warn Walsingham?” Trinculo said.

Jack shrugged. “Perhaps we should — but what would we say? We don’t really know anything about the plot — who and what it involves — if you think about it,” Jack said. “Maybe we’ve already done enough through our actions to scare off the plotters. And I think there are plots and counter-plots going on all the time — we’d probably just draw more attention to ourselves.”

Fanshawe took another long draught of ale and wiped his beard. Suddenly his demeanour changed and he smiled.

“Well at least we have some good news. We nearly forgot to tell you!” he nudged Trinculo. “My fine friend Trinculo has been busy.” Fanshawe poked Trinculo in the ribs. “Go on then.”

“Yes — good news indeed. When you left the bear-baiting yesterday, Shakespeare, Monk and I went back to the Rose to see if we could raise Henslowe. We found him!”

Fanshawe interrupted. “But not only that… tell them, Trinculo!”

“I’m trying to…”

“It would seem that Henslowe has a problem,” Fanshawe continued enthusiastically.

Trinculo was getting annoyed by Fanshawe’s interruptions. “He needs help.”

Fanshawe could contain himself no longer. “Yes! Three of his actors are ill. Very ill. Isn’t that marvellous? They want us to replace them — well, at least temporarily. With any luck they won’t recover. But more than that…”

“It gets better?”

“Much better. Henslowe is in a panic because in only two days’ time his players will be performing at Hampton Court Palace.” Fanshawe was beaming from ear to ear. “It is most excellently providential.”

“Hampton Court Palace — who is he performing for?” Jack asked.

“The queen herself, of course,” Fanshawe replied.

Making an Entrance

No! No! No!” For about the fifth time that morning, Thomas Kyd stormed on stage at The Rose theatre and advanced towards the troupe of actors. Kyd was proving to be demanding, irascible and fussy. Perhaps it was fair enough. In two days’ time they would perform his play in front of the queen, her senior ministers and a good section of the court at Hampton Court Palace. It would be the most important day of Kyd’s life and in the lives of the Henslowe Players. Nevertheless everyone had just about had enough, including the pompous Edward Alleyn who, being the most famous actor of the day, was not used to being bossed around.

Jack and Angus sat at the rear of the stage under the wooden balcony. Inside, The Rose was like a smaller version of the bear-baiting pit, but in place of a large open arena, the theatre housed a wooden stage, raised about one metre off the ground, which projected out into the middle of the standing area. The stage and standing area were ringed by two levels of roofed wooden galleries. The stage itself was given some protection by a raised balcony and large awning at the rear. Otherwise, the theatre was open to the elements. There was rubbish strewn everywhere and the whole place smelled dreadful.

Fanshawe and Trinculo had hit the jackpot winning parts for themselves in the prestigious play though they had Shakespeare to thank for their good fortune. He, of course, knew Henslowe, who had built the theatre, and was also well acquainted with the famous actor, Edward Alleyn, and the playwright, Thomas Kyd. With three actors taken ill so suddenly, Henslowe and Kyd had been desperate. The stakes could not have been higher. The date at Hampton Court in front of the queen would be the inaugural performance of his masterpiece — The Spanish Tragedy.

There had only been one problem — and for this reason Angus had not stopped smiling since they had been allotted their parts. Unsurprisingly, there was no role for him — but it did not matter, as an extra pair of hands backstage was welcome. Jack was another matter altogether. The only trouble was that the actor Jack was replacing had been a boy who must have been a little younger than him and the role was Isabella, the wife of Don Hieronimo. The roles of women were played by boys or men and, for this reason, Jack was sitting next to Angus wearing a dress. Jack was not impressed.

“Shut it,” Jack said for the umpteenth time that morning. “I have to learn these words by tomorrow.”

Angus laughed. “The things we do for VIGIL, eh? Don’t worry, I think you look really nice.”

Jack ignored him.

After a while, Angus lost interest in baiting Jack and pointed over at Kyd, who was still remonstrating with Alleyn. “They’re still at it,” he said.

Jack glanced up from the script. “Well they better get it sorted — we haven’t got much more time.”

Jack and Angus sat in silence. Since their escape from Pendelshape, both of them had been particularly watchful. For about the tenth time, Angus said, “No time phones, no contact with VIGIL, so we just wait?”

“Yes. At least we’re safe.”

“You think?”

“Safe as anywhere.”

“Well I hope you’re right.” He nudged Jack. “Oh — here we go, looks like you’re on… don’t trip over your dress.”

Jack got to his feet. “You’re hilarious.”

The rehearsal finally finished and that afternoon the Henslowe Players prepared for their departure to Hampton Court Palace early the following morning. Hampton Court was upstream so the decision had been taken to transport them up the Thames on two boats. However, as they discovered the next morning, the two tilt boats that had been hired for the purpose were far too small to accommodate the entire cast of The Spanish Tragedy, their costumes, props and various hangers on — let alone the overgrown egos of Henslowe, Alleyn and Kyd. Nevertheless, constrained by the limited budget set by Henslowe, who kept a beady eye on all costs, the boats were going to have to do. Fortunately, the weather remained fine and the river was as smooth as a billiard table. Everyone was extremely glad to leave the rehearsals at The Rose and the endless differences of artistic opinion between Kyd and Alleyn.

There was lively chatter as everyone boarded the boats, which rapidly became over-burdened. The river journey would take them slowly up river, past Whitehall and then eventually to Richmond and Kingston beyond. They would disembark a little after Kingston and lodge at the magnificent Hampton Court Palace, where the queen and her entourage were in temporary residence. The following afternoon they would stage the inaugural performance of The Spanish Tragedy. With luck, this single performance would seal their fame and fortune forever. Everyone was very excited.

They were all squashed together like sardines in the front boat and the rowers made slow progress. They passed Lambeth Palace on the left of the river and on the opposite bank, Westminster Abbey. As they made their way slowly upstream, the scenes on each side of the riverbank became more rural with the boatyards and villages increasingly punctuated with open fields, farmsteads and woodland.

Jack reflected again on the events of the evening before. Their arrival had saved the day and as a result they had made themselves instantly popular among the Henslowe Players. The group seemed amused by Jack and Angus’s strange accents and language, but it didn’t bother them — they were used to mixing with and performing in front of all sorts of people. There were about twenty actors in the group but, even so, a number of them would need to double up on parts for The Spanish Tragedy. They were all friendly and welcoming — although there was one, Christo, who seemed a little quieter than the others. Perhaps he only seemed that way because all the others, by contrast, were excessively loud.

After a boisterous dinner, they had slept in claustrophobic accommodation next to The Rose, provided by Henslowe (for a fee). There was not room for all of them in the main dormitory and Jack had ended up in a small