The Betrayal (9 page)

Reaching the inn, I paid my penny as a groundling and found myself a space to stand in the courtyard. There were seats to be had along the balconies at a greater expense, and also some downstairs, though the ones actually on the stage cost sixpence. Paying this amount meant you were very close to the action, and – as I soon saw – could join the actors on stage for a crowd scene or (as frequently happened) interrupt the play in order to give the audience the benefit of your wit and opinions. The actors did not seem to mind this in the least and, when the interval came, returned the favour by stepping down and mingling with the richer members of the audience.

The audience was very mixed. There were some extremely well-dressed gentlemen in the best seats wearing plush velvet and plumed hats, and a few ladies scattered amongst these. I gave the females careful inspection in order to report back to Mistress Midge, and indeed they
did
seem to be very loud. They had pronounced London accents and were wearing low-cut dresses in violent shades which exposed a considerable amount of bosom. (This was nothing new to me, however, for the ladies at Court, though they spoke in low and cultured voices, were often gowned in a similarly revealing manner.) It was difficult to see if their faces were painted, for almost without exception these were concealed behind elaborate fans, or they wore masks held up by means of a button clenched between their front teeth.

The play was the same one as before,
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
, and was advertised as being written by one who was a player as well as a playwright, a Mr William Shakespeare. I cannot say whether it was good or not, however, for the audience around me both on and off the stage was so boisterous that I kept losing the sense of the plot. I did discern that it was about two young men who are best friends, and one of them goes travelling while the other stays with his sweetheart, and afterwards they fall in love with different ladies … but then the whole play became a muddle to me. There were some funny speeches and also much bawdiness, causing me to admit to Mistress Midge after that, if I’d been there as my real self, I might have blushed and hung my head for shame at the words used. Seeing as I was a young man named Luke, however, I did not, but instead slapped my thigh and laughed as loudly as everyone else.

The play ended with enemies being reconciled and lovers reunited, and as a fiddler struck up and the audience began to leave, two men stationed themselves on each side of the courtyard to give out bills advertising the next play in their repertoire.

I pushed through the crowd, who, seemingly reluctant to leave, were gathered in little groups, posturing and declaiming, and took a leaflet. It was for a performance the following week of a new play named
The Country Husband
, in a building specially constructed for such a purpose and named the Curtain.

Reading the bill, I thought I’d certainly like to go to such a place – and as long as Dr Dee and his family took their time getting to London, then there was no reason why I shouldn’t.

‘Hey, boy!’ someone shouted above the crowd, but, not used to being addressed this way, I didn’t take any notice.

‘You in the old man’s cap!’

I looked around then, knowing it was probably me who was being addressed.

The speaker was one of the two men standing in the doorway; the man who’d handed me the leaflet. He was tall, with a barrel stomach, a gingery cloud of a beard and one gold earring (which I’d noticed before was the fashion in London).

‘Yes, you. Come back here, will you?’ he beckoned.

I pulled myself up to my full height, which is not so very great, and went to him, trying to look unconcerned. It was not against the law to feign being a man, surely? ‘Do you want something?’ I asked gruffly.

‘I saw you looking at the playbill.’

I was puzzled at this. ‘Yes?’

‘You can read?’

I nodded.

‘Could you read and learn a few words?’

I shrugged. ‘Of course. If I had to.’

He looked me up and down and nodded approval. ‘I must tell you,’ he said, ‘that youths like you are much sought after.’

I was a little shocked at this and immediately thought of disappearing into the crowd and getting away. I think he knew how my mind was going, however, because he held up his hand and shook his head.

‘Nay,’ he said, ‘don’t think the worst!’

I blinked at him.

‘What I mean is, you are young, and of a girl’s stature. Now you’re close I see your features are delicate, and your voice as light as a damsel’s.’

Rather alarmed, I cleared my throat and prepared to speak more deeply.

‘’Tis no crime if a youth’s voice remains high!’ he said. ‘Indeed, ’tis what every actor yearns for: a girl’s shape and temperament, and a soft and well-modulated voice. With these, a young man may play many parts: a dissembling coxcomb in the morning and a duchess at noon.’ He smiled and bowed. ‘What’s your name, boy?’

‘Luke, Sir,’ I answered.

‘Well, Luke, would you be free one afternoon to help out a band of players?’

‘Perhaps …’ I replied wonderingly.

‘’Tis like this, young Luke. One of our prettier players – a boy who usually acts the part of a woman – has been taken ill. Not with plague!’ he put in quickly. ‘But with some sort of ague, which has caused him to sweat and groan and take to his bed.’

‘I see,’ I said slowly.

‘We have a play to perform the day after tomorrow, and no one to play his part. It’s to act a maidservant –
not a large role. Do you think you could be such a person, sweeping and cleaning and so on?’

‘I’m not sure …’

‘Come, boy, ’tis not difficult! Why, if women can do it, then surely we are able.’

I hid a smile. ‘Perhaps I could.’

‘And could you act the female … be a little winsome and shy, a little modest?’

‘Possibly …’

‘You’d have a fair wig of hair on your head, of course, and a gown.’ He smiled at me. ‘I think with some paint on your lips, some curls and a feathered bonnet you’d make quite a passable lady.’

‘I thank you, Sir,’ I said, fighting down the urge to laugh. ‘Though I hardly know if you have paid me a compliment or no.’

‘Do it, and you’ll have a free ticket to all of our performances for the rest of the season – and acting work when you want it. What do you say, boy?’

I was very excited but strove to hide it; to act more manly and considered in my reaction to his proposal. ‘I think,’ I paused, ‘I think I shall say yes, Sir.’

‘Well said!’ He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘And to show you are of good intent, perhaps you wouldn’t mind distributing some of these bills to advertise our company’s new play.’ And so saying, he dumped a pile of the bills into my arms. ‘No hurry with these! But come to the Curtain in Shoreditch the day after tomorrow and ask for Mr Richard James.’

‘I shall, Sir!’ I said, and, fearful excited and clutching the bills, broke into a run in order to get home and acquaint Mistress Midge with what had happened.

And then I stopped. No! I wouldn’t go straight home. I’d go to the place I’d been longing to visit: to Whitehall Palace in my disguise, and see who I could see …

‘
The Country Husband!
’ I called as deep and manfully as I could. ‘A new play by the Queen’s Players!’

People crossing the square, which was circled by the myriad houses, shops, chapels, courts of law and apartments belonging to the Palace of Whitehall, hardly glanced at me, for I was surrounded by street folk crying the merits of their goods, as well as those there merely in the hopes of seeing the queen.

I didn’t mind that no one was taking notice of me, because that gave me the opportunity to observe all the comings and goings: the horses, carriages, carts and conveyances travelling to and fro on Court business, mingling with the various members of the working population of London. I saw almost all trades represented: sweeps with long brushes over their shoulders, clergymen, farmers, bakers with trays of pastries,
musicians carrying lutes, liveried coachmen, valets, gentlemen-at-arms with their pikestaffs, and all manner of women, from frowsy-looking charwomen to those dressed beautifully enough to be ladies-in-waiting to the queen. Thinking this, I touched the groat at my neck, that battered coin I wore. Had she begun to recover from having her heart broken? Might I possibly see her going about her queenly business? What was the latest news on Mary, the Scottish queen who sought to take her throne?

Occasionally someone would take a playbill from me, and I’d acknowledge my thanks with a nod of the head and a bow (which, in truth, was a lot easier than a curtsey). Observing, marvelling at all before me, I traversed the square, went under a gateway and found myself in a vast courtyard containing, in one corner, a stable block. Here could be seen scores of horses. Some of these were being groomed, some exercised, and some were just standing patiently gazing out of their open stable doors. Opposite this line of stables was an orchard, and beyond this the entrance to a tilt yard with tall stands and coloured pennants flying. People came and went busily between all of these places.

‘A new play by the Queen’s Players!’ I called, and a young serving girl carrying a pile of starched linen napkins took a copy of my bill. She hardly glanced at it, however, and I doubted that she could read it.

‘A new play!’ she exclaimed. ‘And are you one who acts in it?’

I cleared my throat. I’d not thought I’d have to answer any questions and I’d only rehearsed calling the same two sentences in my new, deep voice. ‘Yes, I have … er … a small part to play in it,’ I answered gruffly.

‘Indeed!’ the girl said. ‘I’ve long wanted to go to a play. Tell me, would it be seemly for a maid to go on her own?’

This question put me in a dilemma. ‘Some say it is …’

She smiled at me. ‘And what do
you
say, master actor?’

‘I say … perhaps it would be better if someone could accompany you. Do you not have a sweetheart?’

She lowered her head and looked at me from under her lashes. ‘I do not.’

This look, and this answer, perplexed me. I’d gazed at several young men in this way, but had never before been on the receiving end of such a look and found it disconcerting. ‘It may be … er … more seemly for you to go with one of the male sex.’

‘But I do not have a sweetheart.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘And I have no time to find one, for I work in Her Majesty’s laundries near every day of the year.’

‘That’s a pity,’ I said, speaking gruff and awkward.

She smiled. ‘But I sometimes get two hours off in the afternoon, so I could easily come to the playhouse! I may come and see you.’

‘You may not recognise me,’ I said quickly. ‘I act as a girl, you see, and am to play the part of a waiting-woman.’

She laughed. ‘To do that must feel very strange.’

‘Not that strange,’ I said before I could stop myself.

She looked at me quizzically.

‘For an actor!’ I added quickly. ‘We are used to taking all parts: old, young, king, queen … ghost!’

‘And for how long have you been an actor?’

‘I admit, not very long,’ I said truthfully, for it was less than one hour.

As we were speaking, those who looked after the horses were coming and going, and there was much noise from a nearby wooden building (which I found out later contained courts on which was played a game called tennis). Although all seemed perfectly open and informal, I could see that inside the palace doorways a guard with a sharpened halberd was standing, and if any strangers tried to force their way in, no doubt this would be used against them.

‘My name is Barbara,’ the girl said. She looked at me, head on one side. ‘And your name, master actor?’

‘My name’s Luke,’ I said.

‘And if I should come to the theatre next week, might I see you there?’

I coughed, embarrassed. ‘Perhaps, perhaps …’ I said, raising a hand in farewell.

The girl, smiling at me all the while, carried on towards one of the nearby buildings with her pile of
linens, and a group of kitchen ’prentices came up to me and asked for a bill, saying that they couldn’t read but would show it to one of the cooks, who’d once said that he’d take them to a play. I told them the names of the play and theatre and had begun to walk on towards where I could see a very large and flourishing kitchen garden, when a small party of horse-riders came across the orchard, calling to each other and laughing. I looked at them and my breath caught in my throat, for as the two leading riders neared us, I saw they were no other than Tomas and the new lady-in-waiting.