The Vagabond Clown Page 8

  ‘You’ve been here before, then?’

  ‘Some years ago, when I was with the Earl of Rutland’s Men.’

  ‘Why did you part with them?’

  ‘To become a holy anchorite.’

  Mussett cackled again and let himself out of the room. Watching him go, Firethorn gave an indulgent smile. It was hard to dislike a man so relentlessly cheerful as the clown. He might lack Barnaby Gill’s education but he had other gifts to bring to his work. Firethorn turned to the window again and noticed that Nicholas Bracewell was looking at something through the door to the stables.

  ‘Nick, dear heart!’ called Firethorn.

  Nicholas saw him at the window. ‘All is well,’ he said, waving a hand.

  ‘Wait there until I come down.’

  Firethorn went through the door and down a rickety staircase. When he came out into the yard, he saw that Nicholas was still peeping into the stables. Firethorn strode quickly across to him.

  ‘What have you found, Nick?’

  ‘Something that may turn out to be a blessing.’

  ‘Where’s the blessing in horse dung?’ asked Firethorn, seeing the manure that was piled in a corner. ‘Is that what caught your attention?’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas, pointing. ‘Look there.’

  Firethorn’s gaze fell on a wooden wheelbarrow that had been dumped against the side of a stall. Its wheel was missing and one of its handles had been snapped off. The timber was stained by years of usage. Firethorn was bewildered.

  ‘I think that I’d rather look at the horse dung,’ he said.

  ‘The wheelbarrow has been abandoned.’

  ‘It deserves to be, Nick. It’s outlived its time.’

  ‘Not if it’s repaired with care,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘And why should anyone bother to do that? The only use is has now is to serve as firewood. I’m surprised it has not already gone up in smoke.’

  ‘That may be to our advantage. Find a new wheel, make a new handle, wash it out thoroughly and we bring it back to life.’

  ‘To what possible end?’

  ‘A certain person might be able to move about with less pain.’

  ‘Barnaby?’ said Firethorn with a laugh. ‘Sitting in a wheelbarrow? Moved around like so much dung? He’d never countenance it.’

  ‘He might if we used some clever carpentry,’ said Nicholas, ‘and I’d undertake that. I need to make it more comfortable and build something to support his back. We could surely woo him with the notion then. Walking is a trial for him. George Dart could push him around with more speed and far less pain.’

  ‘You may be right, Nick,’ conceded Firethorn, taking the idea seriously at last. ‘Let’s speak to the landlord first and see if we can have the wheelbarrow. If you can mend it, as you say, we’ll tell Barnaby he travels on an imperial couch from now on.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to coax him into it.’

  ‘I may need to hitch up two of the horses to do that.’ They shared a laugh then Firethorn rubbed his hands together. ‘How are we received?’

  ‘Better than we could have desired.’

  Nicholas described his visit to the mayor and told Firethorn about the place in which they would perform. The fact that they would have two days to prepare made the actor sigh with relief. Clicking his fingers, he reached an immediate decision.

  ‘We’ll give them A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady,’ he announced.

  ‘That would be my choice.’

  ‘It’s a pity that Lucius Kindell is not here to see his play take wing again.’

  ‘After the riot at the Queen’s Head, he may not be too eager to view it. Lucius was there when the affray broke out,’ said Nicholas, ‘and he still thinks that his play provoked it in some measure. It grieved him.’

  ‘We’ll offer it to the good people of Maidstone instead, and play it through to the end even if an invading army tries to stop us.’ He slapped Nicholas on the shoulder. ‘We have two reasons to celebrate now. The town wants us here and,’ he added, indicating the broken wheelbarrow, ‘you have found a chariot in which to drive Barnaby.’

  ‘I’m not sure that George will relish his office but someone must take it on.’

  ‘George will do as I tell him,’ said Firethorn grimly ‘But what kept you, Nick? You’ve been gone above an hour and I thought we’d lost you.’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘When I left the town hall, I had to honour a promise to Anne. She has a relative here, one Pieter Hendrik, a cousin of her husband’s. I delivered a letter on her behalf and am glad that I did so.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Pieter is one of many Walloons who settled here when they were driven out of their country. He’s a weaver by trade and has already made his mark here. He was happy in his work until he had dealings with Tobias Fitzgeoffrey.’

  ‘That scourge of our profession!’ cried Firethorn. ‘He’s a disgrace to the name of actor. Tobias should be driven from the stage with whips of steel.’

  ‘Pieter Hendrik would be ready to wield one of those whips.’

  ‘Why? Did he have to endure one of the man’s fearful performances?’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘He enjoyed the play that Conway’s Men offered. That was not his complaint. Tobias Fitzgeoffrey had bought a large amount of cloth from him and promised to pay him the next day. Instead of that, he and his company left at dawn and Pieter was left out of pocket.’

  ‘Nothing surprises me in that. Conway’s Men would stoop to anything.’

  ‘Including murder?’

  Firethorn hesitated. ‘Even they might draw back from that.’

  ‘I wonder,’ said Nicholas. ‘According to Giddy, they are a law unto themselves. He has tales that accord with what Pieter Hendrik told me. They take what they can get wherever they can. Fortunatus Hope once consorted with their patron. Could it be that the two men parted in anger?’

  ‘Lord Conway is a spiteful old devil. He’d not have been pleased to see a close friend sitting beside our patron instead. He hates us almost as much as Tobias.’

  ‘Do either of them hate us enough to cause that affray at the Queen’s Head?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Would they also hire an assassin to kill Master Hope?’

  ‘Who knows, Nick?’

  ‘Only time will tell,’ said Nicholas. ‘If they are touring Kent ahead of us, we may well cross paths with them at some stage. I promised Pieter Hendrik that I’d ask them why they failed to pay him.’

  ‘And I’ll ask Tobias Fitzgeoffrey why he dares to strut a stage when he has no skill as an actor. No wonder London has kept Conway’s Men at bay.’

  ‘That’s their main cause of resentment. Giddy told me that it rankles with them.’

  ‘He did well to shun the company.’

  ‘How has he fared this afternoon?’ asked Nicholas.

  Firethorn grimaced. ‘We had a desperate start, Nick.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Did you know that the fellow is unable to read?’

  ‘I saw that he cannot write when he tried to sign that contract for us. If reading is beyond him as well, he must have found ways around the disability.’

  ‘He has,’ said Firethorn. ‘His mind is like a bird that picks up every crumb. Teach him a couplet and he knows it at once. Speak a line and he repeats it like an echo. Giddy is yours now, Nick. Take him through A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady.’

  ‘I will,’ agreed Nicholas, ‘and I’ll make sure that he does not catch any other kind while I am at it.’

  ‘My decree has been impressed upon him. No drink, no whoring, no fighting. Giddy is a changed man,’ said Firethorn confidently. ‘He’ll not disobey me.’

  Bess Roundel was a jovial, red-headed woman in her thirties with a bosom and buttocks of generous proportions. She lay on the bed with her skirt up, giggling with joy as a half-naked man thrust away energetically between her thighs, pausing from time to time to take a swig of ale from a flagon. Giddy Mussett was starting to
enjoy his visit to Maidstone.

  ‘There you are, Bess,’ he said, swallowing another mouthful of ale. ‘I promised to come back to you one day. And here I am!’

  Barnaby Gill was beginning to regret his decision to travel with Westfield’s Men. His broken leg was both a huge impediment and a source of continual pain, and his forced retirement from performance made him the outsider in the company. What irked him most was the way in which Giddy Mussett had been accepted so readily by the others. While they ate their supper in the taproom on their first evening, the actors shook with laughter at Mussett’s endless supply of anecdotes. Owen Elias, in particular, seemed to have a real affinity with the new clown. Watching it all from the other side of the room, Gill became increasingly jealous of his rival. He took out his anger on George Dart.

  ‘George!’ he snapped.

  ‘Yes, Master Gill?’ said Dart, scurrying across to him.

  ‘You are supposed to look after me.’

  ‘I wanted to listen to Giddy’s story about—’

  ‘Forget him,’ snarled Gill, interrupting him, ‘and attend to my needs instead.’

  ‘But the tale was so merry.’

  ‘I’ve no stomach for merriment and no wish to hear anything that that interloper has to say. Now, get me up off this seat,’ he ordered, reaching for his crutch. ‘I’ve had enough of this jollity. Take me to my bed, George.’

  Dart helped him up and supported him across the room. As they passed the table where the others sat, Elias grinned and warned Dart to be careful when he was alone in a room with Gill. More teasing followed but Mussett took care not to get involved in it.

  ‘Good night, Barnaby!’ he said. ‘Sleep well.’

  ‘How can I do that when I’m under the same roof as you?’ retorted Gill.

  He struggled out and made his way towards the little storeroom that had been cleared for his use. A mattress had been brought in along with a stool, a jug of water and a bowl. The considerate landlord had even provided a chamber pot. After helping him into the room, Dart was dismissed and ran swiftly back to the others. Gill began the laborious process of getting ready for bed and lowering himself by degrees onto the mattress. He slept fitfully, unable to get comfortable and wondering how many days it would take before the pain in his leg began to ease. At cockcrow, he was already awake. Abandoning any hope of sleep, he hauled himself up on his crutch to see what sort of day it was, opening shutters that had been locked throughout the night to ensure his privacy.

  The weather was fine, the temperature warm. Gill was about to turn away when he saw a figure emerging from a door nearby to stroll across the yard. Nicholas Bracewell disappeared into the stables, leaving Gill to speculate on what made the book holder get up at that hour and why he had been carrying so much timber in his arms.

  Lawrence Firethorn wanted to make full use of the day for a rehearsal and he insisted that everyone rose early for breakfast. Seated at the head of the table, he explained to the company what lay ahead of them.

  ‘Today we will rehearse A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady with particular attention to the scenes in which the clown appears so that Giddy can take full measure of the part.’ He looked down the table. ‘Where is the fellow?’

  ‘He left the room before I did,’ said Owen Elias. ‘I expected him to be here.’

  ‘I hope that he’s not causing any mischief.’

  ‘No, Lawrence. Giddy will have gone off to start the day with a good deed. He’s probably letting Barnaby out of the privy.’

  ‘This is no jest, Owen,’ said Firethorn, silencing the sniggers with a raised hand. ‘I prefer to have Giddy where I can see him. If he has been bothering Barnaby in any way, it will go hard with him.’ He picked out the smallest figure at the table. ‘George.’

  ‘Yes, Master Firethorn?’ Dart piped up.

  ‘Have you seen Barnaby this morning?’

  ‘Yes, Master Firethorn.’

  ‘Were there any incidents during the night?’

  ‘None,’ said Elias, ‘for Barnaby’s splint kept getting in the way.’

  ‘This is a serious matter, Owen,’ said Firethorn. ‘Well, George?’

  ‘I called on Master Gill earlier,’ he said, ‘to see if I could bring him breakfast in his room, but he chose to have it with the rest of us. He has not slept at all but it is not Giddy’s doing. There was no mention of him.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear that. So where is Giddy now?’

  ‘I do not know, Master Firethorn.’

  ‘Nick was supposed to keep an eye on him,’ recalled Elias. ‘You must ask him.’

  ‘But he’s not here either,’ said Firethorn with exasperation. ‘Where on earth is everyone hiding this morning?’

  ‘I am not hiding, Lawrence,’ declared Barnaby Gill, making a sudden entrance and pausing in the door for effect. ‘I’ve come to take my rightful place in the company.’ He ran his eye down the table. ‘Has Giddy Mussett absconded yet?’

  ‘No, no, Barnaby.’ Firethorn beckoned him over. ‘Come and sit next to me.’

  Dart moved across to help the newcomer but Gill waved him away, using the crutch with skill and hopping over to the table. Elias moved along the bench to make way for him. Gill’s arrival served to dampen everyone’s spirits and conversation among the actors was more muted. When he had eaten his first mouthful of bread, Gill remembered what he had seen earlier.

  ‘What is Nicholas doing in the stables?’ he asked.

  ‘Is that where he is?’ said Firethorn.

  ‘I saw him walk past my window.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Shortly after dawn. He had some wood in his arms.’

  ‘Ah! So that’s what he’s doing!’

  ‘I am none the wiser, Lawrence.’

  ‘Let me explain,’ said Firethorn, lowering his voice to a persuasive purr. ‘What is the thing that annoys you the most, Barnaby?’

  ‘Having that drunken rascal, Giddy Mussett, in the company.’

  ‘But for your broken leg, he’d not be here. That is the root of your trouble, man. You’ve been in great pain ever since the accident occurred.’

  ‘It was no accident. I was flung to the ground.’

  ‘Be that as it may, you are now hopping around on one leg and taking an age simply to get from one side of the room to the other.’ He leant in closer. ‘How would you like to move with more speed?’

  ‘Why? Do you intend to carry me on your back?’

  ‘Lawrence has already been doing that for years,’ said Elias, unable to resist the jibe. ‘But tell us how it may be done, Lawrence. Is there some means by which Barnaby can be made to fly like a bird?’

  ‘No, there is another way. It was Nick Bracewell’s idea.’

  Gill bristled. ‘Then it will certainly not appeal to me.’

  ‘Hear me out. Nick must be working on the notion right now.’

  ‘Why? Does he mean to board me up in the stables?’

  ‘No, Barnaby,’ said Firethorn, ‘he intends to do you a great favour. We found an old wheelbarrow that could be mended in order to move you from place to place.’

  ‘A wheelbarrow!’ protested Gill. ‘You expect me to sit in a wheelbarrow? Am I no more than a pile of earth to be carried around then dumped?’

  ‘This wheelbarrow was used for horse dung.’

  ‘There you are, Barnaby,’ said Elias, chuckling. ‘You’ll feel at home.’

  ‘I’ll hear no more of it!’ shouted Gill, banging a fist on the table but unable to stem the general laughter. ‘I have high standards.’

  ‘Wait until you see what Nick has done,’ advised Firethorn.

  ‘What he has done is to come up with the most insulting idea that I’ve ever heard in my life.’ Righteous indignation turned his cheeks bright red. ‘Ride in a wheelbarrow? I’d sooner crawl on all fours.’

  ‘We were only trying to help you.’

  ‘You were trying to turn me into a figure of fun.’

  Elias grinned broadly. ‘Nature has alread
y done that for us.’

  ‘Be quiet, Owen,’ admonished Firethorn. ‘How can I prove to Barnaby that we have his interests at heart if you keep breaking in?’

  ‘Say no more, Lawrence,’ asserted Gill, quivering with anger. ‘You’ve wounded me enough already.’

  ‘But I’ve not told you what Nick intends to do.’

  ‘I’ve no wish to hear. Nothing on God’s earth would ever get me to lower myself in that way.’ He wagged a finger. ‘Keep your wheelbarrow away from me.’

  At the very moment when he spoke, the door to the taproom was flung open and Nicholas Bracewell entered with the results of his endeavours. The wheelbarrow had been transformed. Having made and fitted a new wheel, Nicholas had added a stout board to support the back and a piece of wood that jutted out horizontally over the front of the wheelbarrow. Its purpose was clear. While Nicholas pushed him around the room, Giddy Mussett lay in the wheelbarrow with a lordly air, reclining on the cushions with which it had been filled and resting the leg he had put in mock splints on the piece of wood that protruded over the front. The wheelbarrow came to a halt beside Gill.

  ‘You’re too late, Barnaby,’ announced Mussett. ‘I want it for myself.’

  Chapter Seven

  As soon as breakfast was over, the rehearsal began in earnest. Having no room on his premises that was large enough for their purposes, Jonathan Jowlett was happy to give them free use of his yard, provided that they did not hold up the normal running of the inn. Whenever travellers arrived by cart or on horseback, the actors had to break off to allow them free access to the stables. They also had to endure the goggling eyes of the ostlers, servingmen and tavern wenches as they honed their art in the open air. The company approached A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady with some caution. Its previous performance had been disastrous and their superstitious natures made them uneasy about the piece. Another cause for discomfort was the fact that one of the main roles – that of Bedlam, the clown – was being played by someone who had no real acquaintance either with the play or with the people acting in it. Giddy Mussett was an affable companion but that did not mean he would be a worthy substitute for Barnaby Gill. When word of Mussett’s illiteracy spread, the company became even more restive.