Apprenticeship was bound by no formal rules and practises varied with each company, but Barnaby Gill accepted the general principle of seniority. On that count alone, Richard Honeydew had to be excluded. The other three boys had earned the right to be considered before him, and Gill put this point forcefully at a meeting with his colleagues.
Lawrence Firethorn spiked his guns. Edmund Hoode and the other sharers had already been talked around by the wily Firethorn so the decision stood. All that Gill could do was to register his protest and predict that they would rue their mistake. Richard Honeydew was over-parted.
'Well done, Dick.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'You have natural grace.'
'I simply wish to please, sir.'
'Oh, you do that, boy,' said Gill. 'You may prove me wrong yet.'
The more he watched Richard, the more he came to see his unusual gifts as a performer. His voice was clear, his deportment good and his use of gesture effective. With a dancer's eye, Gill admired his sense of balance, his timing and the easy fluency of his movement. Most important of all, the boy had now learned to wear female apparel as if he were himself female and this was a special accomplishment. Richard Honeydew might turn out to be the best choice as Gloriana, after all, and Gill did not in the least mind admitting it.
Lord Westfield's Men had rented a large room at The Queen's Head for early rehearsals. Barnaby Gill contrived a word alone with the boy during a break for refreshment.
'How are you enjoying it, Dick?'
'Very much, sir.'
'Have you ever played a queen before?' .
'Never, Master Gill. It's a great honour.'
'Who knows?' he teased softly. 'You may even outshine our own Gloriana.'
'Oh, no,' replied the boy seriously. 'Nobody could do that, sir. I think that our Queen is the most wonderful person in the world.'
Gill saw a chance to impress the boy and he took it.
'Yes,' he said casually. 'Her Majesty has been gracious to admire my playing on more than one occasion.'
Richard gaped. 'You've met her?'
'I've performed at court a number of times.'
There had, in fact, been only two appearances at the royal palace and they had been some years ago, but Gill disguised all this. He also concealed his true feelings about Queen Elizabeth. Most women filled him with mild distaste but the royal personage had done rather more than that.
Richard Honeydew might worship her along with the rest of her subjects but the fastidious, observant actor had got close enough to her to see her as no more than a middle-aged woman with a ginger wig, black teeth and a habit of using thick raddle on any part of her skin that could not be covered by clothing. Queen Elizabeth was a walking wardrobe. Beneath the flamboyant attire was a mass of wires, stays and struts, which supported the stiff exterior. Gill acknowledged that she had given a striking performance but the ravaged beauty had not won his heart.
'Will the company play at court again?' asked Richard.
'We hope so. It wants but an invitation.'
'It must be inspiring to play before Her Majesty.'
'Oh, it is. I was transported, Dick.'
'Did you dance your jig, Master Gill?'
'Twice. The Queen insisted that I repeat it.' He took a step closer to the boy. 'I would teach you the steps one day if we could find time together.'
'I would appreciate that, sir.'
'Swordplay, too,' continued Gill. 'I was instructed by a Master of Fence. I know far more about it than Nicholas Bracewell. You would do well to seek my help with a sword in future.'
'Nicholas has taught me so much, though.'
'I will teach you a lot more, Dick. Would you like that?'
The boy hesitated. The avuncular smile was worrying him again. Besides, his first loyalty was to Nicholas. He tried to speak but the actor stopped him with a raised palm.
'Come to me this evening,' he wooed. 'We'll have a bout then.'
'That will not be possible, Master Gill,' said a voice.
'Who asked you, sir?' rejoined the actor.
'Dick will be with me this evening. I am to instruct him in the use of the rapier.'
Richard was surprised to hear this but grateful for the interruption. Samuel Ruff had come to his aid once again. The boy's relief was not shared by Barnaby Gill.
'Why must you meddle, sir?' he snapped.
'The boy and I have an arrangement.'
'Is this true, Dick?'
'Yes, I think so…'
'Well, I do not think so.' He rounded on the hired man. 'And I do not believe that you have ever carried a rapier.'
'You do me wrong, Master Gill.'
'Ah!' mocked the other. 'Have you been hiding your light under a bushel all this time? Are you a Master of Fence?'
'No, sir. But I have borne a sword.'
'Let us see how much you remember.'
Ruffs intercession had annoyed Gill intensely and he wanted to teach the man a lesson. There would be the additional bond? of being able to show off in front of Richard. Crossing to a table, Gill snatched up two rehearsal foils and offered one of the bell-like handles to Ruff.
'Not a rapier, sir, but it will serve.'
'I do not wish to have a bout with you, Master Gill.'
'Are you afeard, then?'
'No, sir. But it would not be wise.'
'Who asks for wisdom out of swordplay?'
'Somebody might get hurt,' explained Ruff. 'Even with a button on, a foil can cause injury.'
'Oh, I forgot,' teased Gill. 'You have wounds enough already.'
'My arm is mended, sir. That is not the reason.'
'Then what is?'
'Common sense.'
'Common sense or cowardice?'
Samuel Ruff was stung by the gibe. He had no wish to fence with Gill but the insult could not be ignored. Slipping off his jerkin, he handed it to Richard and accepted the foil from his adversary. The latter gave him an oily grin. He was going to enjoy humiliating this troublesome hired man and would not even bother to remove his doublet to do so.
Others in the room quickly came over to watch the bout. Benjamin Creech shouted words of encouragement to Ruff but the general feeling was that he had little chance. The three older apprentices lent their support to Barnaby Gill. They wanted to see Richard Honeydew's friend humbled.
'Instruct him, Master Gill,' urged Martin Yeo.
'I'll wager a penny you have the first hit,' said Stephen Judd. ' Tuppence. Will you back your man, Dick?'
'I have no money, Stephen.'
'Owe it to me. The wager stands.'
Barnaby Gill held the light, slender foil and swished it through the air a few times before taking up his stance. His opponent held his weapon ready. The hired man was bigger and sturdier but Gill was much lighter on his feet.
