Samuel Ruff, who was perched on a stool on the other side of the table. All three drank bottle-ale. It had a brackish taste.
Nicholas glanced around the place with candid surprise.
'You lodge here, Samuel?' he said.
'For my sins.'
'Can it be safe?'
'I sleep with one hand on my dagger.'
'And the other on your codpiece,' said Fowler with a grin. 'These drabs will give you the pox as soon as they breathe on you, then charge you for the privilege.'
'I've no money to waste on pleasure, Will,' added Ruff.
'What pleasure is there in a burning pizzle?' Fowler's grin became rueful. 'There be three things an actor fears-plague, Puritans and pox. I never know which is worse.'
'I can tell you.'
'Which one, Sam?'
'The fourth thing,' explained Ruff.
'And what is that?'
'The greatest fear of all. Being without employ.'
There was such sadness in his voice and such despair in his eyes that the garrulous Fowler was silenced for once. Nicholas had an upsurge of sympathy for Samuel Ruff. He knew what it was to fall on hard times himself and he had a special concern for those who fell by the wayside of a necessarily cruel profession. Ruff was not only evidently in need of work. He had to be helped to believe in himself again. Nicholas showed a genuine interest.
'How long have you been a player, Samuel?'
'For more years than I care to remember,' admitted Ruff with a half-smile. 'I began with Leicester's Men, then I toured with smaller companies.'
'At home or abroad?'
'Both, sir.'
'Where have you been on your travels?'
'My calling has taken me to Germany, Holland, Belgium, Denmark, even Poland. I've been hissed at in many languages.'
'And applauded in many more,' insisted Fowler loyally. 'Sam is a fine actor, Nick. Indeed, he is almost as good as myself.'
'No recommendation could be higher,' said Nicholas, smiling.
'We are old fellows, are we not, Sam?'
'We are, Will.'
'If memory serves me aright, we first played together in The Three Sisters of Mantua at Bristol. They were happy days.'
'Not for everyone,' recalled Ruff.
'How say you?'
'Have you forgotten, Will? You fetched the trumpeter such a box on the ear that he could not play his instrument properly for a week.'
'The knave deserved it!'
'If he'd not ducked in time, you'd have boxed his other ear and taken his breath away for a fortnight.'
'What was the man's offence?' wondered Nicholas.
'He blew a scurvy trumpet,' explained Will.
Fowler and Ruff shook with mirth at the shared recollection. As further memoirs were revealed by the former, the other seemed to relax and blossom, secure in the knowledge that there had been a time when his talent had been in demand. Samuel Ruff was older and greyer than Fowler but his build was similar. Nicholas noted the faded attire and the neglected air. He also studied the big, open face with its honest eyes and resolute jaw. There was an integrity about Ruff which had not been beaten out of him by his straitened circumstances, and his pride was intact as well. When Fowler offered him money, he was frankly wounded.
'Take it back, Will. I can pay my way.'
'I mean it as a loan and not as charity.'
'Either would be an insult to me.'
Fowler slipped the coins quickly back into his purse and revived some more memories of their time together. The laughter soon started again but it lacked its earlier warmth. Nicholas had taken a liking to Samuel Ruff but he could not see how he could help him in the immediate future. The number of hired men in the company was kept to a minimum by Firethorn in order to hold down costs. There was no call for a new player at the moment.
In any case, Ruff did not appear to be in search of a job. Months without work had taken their toll of his spirit and he was now talking of leaving the profession altogether. Will Fowler gasped with shock as he heard the news.
'What will you do, Sam?'
'Go back home to Norwich.'
'Norwich?'
'My brother has a small farm there. I can work for him.'
'Sam Ruff on a farm!' exclaimed Fowler with healthy disgust. 'Those hands were not made to feed pigs.'
'He keeps cows.'
'You're an actor. You belong on the stage.'
'The playhouse will manage very well without me.'
'This is treasonable talk, Sam!' urged Fowler. 'Actors never give up. They go on acting to the bitter end. Heavens, man, you're one of us!
'Not any more, Will.'
'You will miss the playhouse mightily,' said Nicholas.
'Miss it?' echoed Fowler. 'It will be like having a limb hacked off. Two limbs. Yes, and two of something else as well, Sam. Will you surrender your manhood so easily? How can anyone exist without the theatre?'
'Cows have their own consolation,' suggested Ruff.
'Leave off this arrant nonsense about a farm!' ordered his friend with a peremptory wave of his arm. 'You'll not desert us. D'you know what Nick and I talked about as we walked here tonight? We spoke about the acting profession. All its pain and setback and stabbing horror. Why do we put up with it?'
'Why, indeed?' said Ruff gloomily.
'Nick had the answer. On compulsion. It answers a need in us, Sam, and I've just realized what that need is.'
'Have you?'
'Danger.'
'Danger?'
'You've felt it every bit as much as I have, Sam,' said Fowler with eyes aglow. 'The danger of testing yourself in front or a live audience, of risking their displeasure, of taking chances, of being out there with nothing but a gaudy costume and a few lines of verse to hold them. That's why I do it, Sam, to have that feeling dread coursing through my veins, to know that excitement, to face that danger! It makes it all worthwhile.'
'Only if you are employed, Will,' observed Ruff.
'Where will you get your danger, Sam?'
'A tow can give a man a nasty kick at times.'
‘I'll give you a nasty kick if your persist like this!'
'My mind is made up, Will.'
Further argument was futile. No matter how hard he tried, Fowler could not deflect his friend from his purpose. Nicholas was brought in to add the weight of his persuasion but it was in vain. Samuel Ruff had decided to return to Norwich- It would be a hard life but he would have a softer lodging than the Hope and Anchor.
Nicholas watched the two men carefully. They were middle-aged actors in a profession which handled its members with callous indifference. Both had met the impossible demands made upon them for a number of years,
