'So was I.'
'Maybe that is the reason he was drawn to the theatre.'
'Reason?'
'It's a kind of refuge,' she argued. 'Actors have to be seen but only as somebody else. Do you understand me? Will Fowler went into the theatre to hide. Just like you.'
'Is that what I did?' he asked with amusement.
'You tell me, sir.'
But she knew that he would not. Anne Hendrik had enquired about his past life many times but he had yielded only the barest details. Born and bred in the West Country, he was the son of a well-to-do merchant who ensured that Nicholas had a sound education then took him into the business. It gave him the chance to travel and he made many voyages to Europe.
Suddenly, he broke with his family and took service with Drake on his voyage around the world. The experience changed his whole attitude to life and left him a more philosophical man. When he came back to England, his days as a sailor were over. Eventually, he moved to London and began to work in the theatre.
'What exactly did you do, Nick?' she wondered.
'When?'
'In those years between coming home to your own country and joining Lord Westfield's Men. You must have done something.'
'I did. I survived.'
'How?'
He kissed her by way of reply. The missing years in his life had left their mark on him but he would never disclose why. Anne would have to accept him as he was, a quiet, strong-willed person whose self-effacing manner was a form of mask. She might not know everything about him but there was enough to make him very lovable.
'Speak to me,' she whispered.
'What shall I say?'
'Do you agree with me? About Will Fowler?'
'Perhaps.'
'And what about Nicholas Bracewell?'
'Perhaps not.'
'Oh, Nick!' she sighed, as she tightened her grip on him. 'I love this closeness but there are times when I wonder who the man I am holding really is.'
'I wonder that myself,' he confessed.
He kissed her softly on the lips and began to stroke her dark, lustrous hair. Nestling into his chest, she felt at once soothed and aroused. It was several minutes before she broke the silence.
'What are you thinking?' she said.
'It doesn't matter, Anne.' There was a shrug in his voice.
'Please. Tell me.'
'It was not very cheering.'
'I still want to know.'
'Very well,' he explained. ' I was thinking about failure.'
'Failure?'
'High hopes that end in chaos. Noble ambitions that crumble.'
'Is that what happened to your hopes and ambitions?'
'You keep on trying,' he said with a little laugh, then he became more serious. 'No, I was thinking about Susan Fowler, poor creature. Her plans have fallen apart. Then there is Samuel Ruff.
Failure brought him low as well. Even now there is still a deep sadness in the man that I cannot fathom.'
There was a long pause. Her voice was a murmur in the pillow.
'Nick…'
'I know what you're going to say.'
'You might go back to your own room tomorrow.'
'I will, Anne.'
But she was his for some luscious hours yet. His need made him tighten his grip on her and it did not slacken until he at last fell asleep from a lapping fatigue.
*
Richard Honeydew was overwhelmed at the news that he was to be cast in the title role of the new play. Performing for the first time at The Curtain would have been thrill enough for him, bur to make his debut there as Gloriana, Queen of England, filled him with a blend of excitement and terror. They evidently had great faith in him and that thought helped to steady his nerves and still his self-doubts.
The other apprentices were outraged and Firethorn had to slap down their complaints ruthlessly. Martin Yeo was wounded the most. A tall, slim, assured boy of fourteen, he had played most or the leading female roles for the company over the past couple of years, and he had come to look upon them as his by right. To be deprived of an outstanding part by a novice was more than his pride could take, and he withdrew into a sullen, watchful silence. John Tallis and Stephen Judd did the same. It they had disliked Richard before, they now hated him with vengeful intensity. Every morning, as they sat around the table with him for breakfast, they glared their anger at Richard and were only restrained from attacking him by the vigilance of Margery Firethorn. As a punishment for the way they had tied their victim up, she had put the three of them on reduced rations, so that they had half-empty bellies while the youngest of their number ate from a full plate. In every way, Richard Honeydew was getting more than them.
'I could have killed him!' asserted John Tallis.
'Yes,' added Stephen Judd. 'The worst thing is the way he tries to be friendly with us-as if we could ever be friends with him now!'
'It's not fair,' said Martin Yeo simply.
They had gone back up to their room and they fell easily into a conspiratorial chat. The three boys often had differences among themselves but they had now been united against a common enemy Tallis was livid, Judd was aching with envy, and Yeo took it as a personal insult. They came together in a solid lump of resentment.
Some companies actually paid their apprentices a wage, but Lord Westfield's Men did not. In return for their commitment to the company, the boys were given board, lodging, clothing and regular training in all the arts of the playhouse. The arrangement had been satisfactory until Richard Honeydew had appeared. He had unwittingly upset the balance of power within the Firethorn household, and within the company, and he had to pay for it.
'What are we going to do about it?' asked Tallis.
'There's nothing much we can do,' admitted Judd. 'He's got Samuel Ruff and Nick Bracewell on his side now.'
'He'll need more than them,' warned Yeo.
'You should have that part, Martin,' said Tallis.
'I know-and I will.'
'How?' asked Judd eagerly.
'We'll have to work that out.'
'Can we get rid of him altogether?' urged Tallis.
'Why not?' said Yeo.
The conspirators shared a cosy snigger. Richard Honeydew was riding high at the moment but they would bring him down with a bump when he least expected it. All that they had to do was to devise a plan.
*
Back in his own room, Nicholas Bracewell reached under the bed^ and pulled out a large battered leather chest. As well as being the book holder he was, literally, the book keeper. It was his function to keep the books of all the plays that the company used, new, old or renovated. The play chest was an invaluable item that had to be kept safe at all times. With so much piracy of plays going on, it behoved very company to guard its property with
