Chapter Eight
Nicholas Bracewell confronted him first thing the next morning.
'You must be mistaken,' said Creech bluntly.
'No, Ben.'
'I did not go to The Curtain yesterday.'
'But I saw you with my own eyes.'
'You saw someone who looked like me.'
'Stop lying.'
'I'm not lying,' maintained the actor hotly. 'I was nowhere near Shoreditch yesterday afternoon.'
'Then where were you?'
Creech withdrew into a defiant silence. His mouth was dosed tight and his jaw was set. Nicholas pressed him further.
'You were supposed to be here, Ben.'
'Nobody told me that,' argued the other.
'I told you myself-in front of witnesses, too-so you can't pretend that that never happened either. The tiremen were expecting you and you failed to turn up.'
'I…couldn't get here yesterday.'
'I know-you were at The Curtain instead.'
'No!' denied Creech. 'I was…' He glowered at Nicholas then gabbled his story. 'I was at the Lamb and Flag. I only went in for one drink at noon but I met some old friends. We started talking and had some more ale. The time just flew past. Before I knew what was happening, I fell asleep in my seat.'
'I don't believe a word of it,' said Nicholas firmly.
'That is your privilege, sir!'
'We'll have to fine you for this, Ben.'
'Do so,' challenged the hired man.
'One shilling.'
Creech's defiance turned to shock. One shilling was a steep fine to a person whose weekly wage was only seven times that amount. He had many debts and could not afford to lose such a sum. Nicholas read his thoughts but felt no regret.
'You've brought this upon yourself,' he stressed. 'When will you learn? I've covered for you in the past, Ben, but it has to stop. You simply must be more responsible. There are dozens of players to be had for hire. If this goes on, one of them may be taking over your place.'
'It's not up to you, Nicholas,' muttered Creech.
'Would you rather discuss it with Master Firethorn?'
'No,' he said after a pause.
'He would have kicked you out months ago.'
'I earn my money!'
'Yes, when you're here,' agreed Nicholas. 'Not when you're lying in a drunken stupor somewhere or sneaking off to The Curtain.'
'That was not me!'
'I'm not blind, Ben.'
'Stop calling me a liar!'
Creech bunched his fists and he breathed heavily through his nose. Discretion slowly got the better of him. The book holder might seem quiet but he would not be intimidated. If the occasion demanded it, Nicholas Bracewell could fight as well as the next man and his physique was daunting. Nothing would be served by throwing a punch.
'One shilling, Ben.'
'As you wish.'
'And no more of your nonsense, sir.'
Benjamin Creech risked one more glare then he withdrew to the other side of the tiring-house. The talk had sobered him in every sense. Samuel Ruff had watched the exchange from the other side of the room and he now came across to the book holder.
'What was all that about, Nick?'
'The usual.'
'Too much ale?'
'And too little honesty, Samuel. I saw the fellow at The Curtain yesterday in broad daylight-yet he denies it!'
'He may have good cause.'
'In what way?'
'Where did you see him, Nick?'
'Talking with a couple of the hired men..'
'There's your answer. He does not wish to admit it.'
'Admit what?'
'I never thought to mention this because I assumed that you knew. Obviously you do not.' Ruff looked across at the man. 'Ben Creech was with Banbury's Men for a time.'
'Is this true?' asked Nicholas in astonishment.
'Oh, yes. I was there with him.'
*
While the future of one hired man was being discussed in the tiring-house, the future of another was under dire threat in an upstairs room. No rehearsal period of Westfield's Men was complete without a fit of pique from Barnaby Gill and he was supplying one of his best. Edmund Hoode bore it with equanimity but Lawrence Firethorn was becoming progressively more irritated, facing the room madly, the anguished sharer worked up a real froth.
'He is not fit to belong to Lord Westfield's Men!'
'Why not?' asked Hoode.
'Because I say so, sir!'
'We need more than that, Barnaby.'
'The man has the wrong attitude.'
'I disagree,' said Hoode. 'Samuel Ruff is probably the only hired man we have with the right attitude. He takes his work seriously and fits in well with the company.'
'Not with me, Edmund.'
'He's an experienced actor.'
'London is full of experienced players.'
'Not all of them are as reliable as Ruff.'
'He must leave us.'
'On what pretext?'
'I do not like the man!'
'He will be relieved to hear that,' said Firethorn with a wicked chuckle. 'Come, Barnaby, this is too small a matter to waste any more breath on.'
'I want him dismissed,' said Gill, holding firm.
'This is a mere whim.'
'I mean it, Lawrence. He has crossed me and he must suffer.'
