In the Shadow of Shakespeare (31 page)

“Tut,
Alice,” began Aaron.  “Let us not fret about the man that Sir Thomas is,
may be, or become.  Let us relax in our merriment.” 

“I
have come to warn Kit, Aaron.  You know that.” 

“Master
Marlowe knows of the gravity of the situation Lady.  He has little choice
in the matter but to plan his escape.”  Hal said.

“Escape. 
But for what length of time?”

Hal
and Celeste looked at one another.

“Lady,”
Hal said softly.  “Sir Tom is fond of Master Marlowe.  He seeks to
preserve him from tanglements of the court.  It is thought that he should
disappear from England.  Forever.”

“Who
will decide this?” Alice said.

“It
is being decided now.” said Hal. "In the garden."

A
hush fell over the conversation and Alice walked to the window where Hal stood
looking over the garden.   Late afternoon bees buzzed by.  Kit
and Sir Thomas stood at the far end of the garden by the outer wall.  Kit
listened while Sir Thomas spoke earnestly, gesticulating.  He looks
resigned, thought Alice. 

"I
will not see him again." said Alice.  "We have come for naught
Aaron.  Except as interesting supper conversation, our purpose here has
ended." 

"Sir
Tom will give you a few moments with Master Marlowe.  He won't begrudge ye
that." said Hal.

"Oh,
aye,
" said Celeste.  "And how will you manage to pry him
from his poet?  The man is clung to him as to a barnacle on a
ship,"  Celeste rose from the table.  "Not to fear Alice. 
I shall bait him with distracting deserts and things he does fancy."

Hal
frowned.  "Unwholesome delicacies."

"Nay. 
Enchanted."  said Celeste.

"Pray
tell!" said Aaron.

Celeste
playfully cuffed him and held her hand towards Hal.  "Come, there are
much preparations to be made."

 “Aye. 
Let us ready to sup.”  Hal took her hand. 

Alice
turned from the window.  “I to the garden to see Kit.”

Chap 40

Alice
was jealous of the trio that made their way to the kitchen to plan the large
going away dinner for Kit.  She had no desire to once again haggle for
Kit's ear with Sir Thomas. According to Celeste, Sir Thomas had spared no
expense for his friends last supper before he went into hiding.  There was
even special wine from France, from one Sir Brandicott, who regularly made
trips to the Alsace region in search of fine wine for his noble friends and
himself. 

She
made her way around the tall stone wall which enclosed the perimeter of the
garden.  In the center of the garden there stood a large, very masculine
statue of Jupiter.  Ganymede, his spritely servant, sat situated upon his
knee.  She ran her hand along the wall eyeing the statue and what lay
behind it.  Coming across an over-grown boxwood she heard the murmur of
voices.  Convinced that they had not heard or seen her approach, Alice
crept closer.  The insistent plea of Sir Thomas could be heard beyond the
boxwood.

"
– stay in France first, dear heart; then, to Italy, one Padua; then,
Venice.  You shall be among our friends there.  I have told them of
your coming."

"Tom,
I cannot stomach it.  Being a ghost, traveling among the shadows. 
When will I return?"

"To
be as Ovid, exiled and free.  Think on it Kit!"

"
'Tis not a thought that comforts, Tom."

There
was a silence.  The soft breath of the wind rustled the tree leaves
above. 

"We
must wait for the silence of Whitgift, dear heart."

Alice
tried to silence a sneeze as Sir Thomas held himself erect, listening.  It
was at that moment she caught a glimpse of two men entering the far end of the
garden.  Sir Thomas turned towards the men and Alice stepped again behind
the boxwood. 

"Holla! 
Here comes the pair.  One Poley and one Skeres.  

Alice
recognized the names.  Robert Poley and Nicholas Skeres.  Regular
members in the underground of London, they peddled their services as
mercenaries and spies. 

Peering
through the dense coverage of the overgrown boxwood, she watched them stop in
front of Kit and Sir Thomas. Their appearances didn't seem to match their
reputations.  Skeres had a soft face, appearing almost feminine, and Poley
had a lopsided grin, stretching across his face in an almost comical way. 
They were both dressed as members of the upper class.  Poley and his grin
in green velvet, and Skeres and his gentle face surrounded by lace.

Both
men glanced around the garden, wary. 

Poley
moved out of view and began speaking in a low voice.  The voice was carved
and calculating, it clearly had made these plans before, and it knew the
correct polish and veneer to apply to the situation. 

Kit's
eyes widened and then he looked at the ground, as if searching for a way out of
the situation.  She had seen him look this way before, when he was working
on his plays and his eyes would travel inward, watching a scene in his mind she
could not see, but was simply played out before him and he must get it all
down.  The quill would scurry across the paper, scratching its way along
like a mad chicken.   The inkpot would be empty in an hour's worth of
time.  She had sat on the bed and watched and dreamed the dream of knowing
what had already happened.

The
group moved slightly towards her and she pressed her back against the
wall.  A branch snagged and dragged across her dress, tearing it. 
She reached down to unhook the branch and at the moment the group moved passed
her as she stood stock still, gripping thorns. 

The
group drifted towards the great house and Alice turned her hand over.  In
the center was a puncture mark dripping with blood. 

 ***

She
gazed at the horizon where sea met sky and clutched something dark and roughly
woolen in her hands.  Putting the garment to her face she breathed
deep.  The smell of memory collided with the deep force of regret. 

At
the edge of her vision a small figure stood waiting. 

Twisting
her head away from the figure, she began quickly walking in the opposite
direction on the wharf.  The sun appeared from under a cloud and the heat
of it beat down on her head and the backs of her arms.  She could feel the
eyes of the figure burn into her skin as the mists begin to gather…

She
awoke thrashing with the bed clothes twisted around her and her face turned
towards the sun.  The window had not yet been opened, and the room was hot
and stuffy.

Alice
pulled the wet hair from her mouth and sat up in bed.  The sound of voices
drifted up the stairs.  A harsh burst of laughter erupted and there was
the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs.   Celeste quickly
knocked then entered.

She
frowned. "Mistress, you look like apple rot.  Let us get you dressed."

Alice
laughed.  "Celeste, let the men go about their business.  I'm
not welcome there."  She reclined on the bed.

"Ah,
contrare,
Alice.  They have all been asking of you.  And
supper is almost served, and the wine is being poured."

"Wine? 
Being poured?  I hope there is a keg of it to get them all drunk so Kit
and I can escape."  She sat on the edge of the bed.

"Tut,
Alice.  It shall all soon be played."  Celeste began tugging the
on the back strings of the bodice. 

"I
wish it were but a dream."

Alice
pulled her dress over her chemise, and Celeste helped with the buttons in the
back.  She then arranged her hair into a neat chignon. 

They
began to descend the stairs and a cloud of trepidation fell over her.  She
lay her hand on Celeste's arm.

"Soft,"
she whispered.  "Do you hear them speak?"

"Nay. 
'Tis a matter of serious import.  They speak in hushed tones."

"I
cannot go through with this Celeste.  My heart is begun to
stop."  Alice sat on the middle stair.

"Mistress,"
Celeste hissed.  "Come!  This shall be the best performance for
the player in you.  If you can out play this, you shall become rich in
London.  Hail queen boy!"  Celeste tugged on her arm, and Alice
reluctantly stood up.

The
rest of the house was still as they made their way to the dining hall.  As
they entered no kind eyes fell upon here.  A hush fell in the
conversation.  Sir Thomas stood,  and the rest of the guests followed
suit.

"Alice. 
Welcome to our table.  We have been waiting in great anticipation of your
beauty and wit."  He nodded and pulled a chair out for her to sit.

"Sir
Thomas, you are kind.  I thank you and appear momentarily with the
wine.  Celeste has asked for my help."

He
frowned as Celeste stood waiting by the door.  She briefly curtsied and
smiled. 

"A
lady such as yourself should not be asked to serve with the kitchen help. 
You are my guest and should appear as such."

"Appearances,
Sir Thomas are…," she dragged off as all eyes fell upon in anticipation of
what she would say.  Kit looked at her questioningly.  A smile
beginning around the corners of his mouth.  She wanted to say that
appearances are not what they seem, but then he might begin to suspect her of
something deviant. Suspicion was the last thing she wanted from him.

"Beg
your pardon," she said.  "The appearance of wine at dinner at
shall mark the renewal of our bonds with Master Marlowe.  He is wont to
leave, but –"

"Kit
is not leaving.  Pray tell Alice, what is on your mind? " As he
abruptly cut her off, she abruptly sat. The other guests slowly followed.

Celeste
quietly left the room.

Feeling
defeated, Alice stared at a pitcher of water on the table.  There was
nothing left to do but play her part.  Her eyes met Kit's. 
Is
this our final act?
  She looked for an answer in his eyes but there
was none. 

It
was Poley who finally spoke. 

"The
player wench.  How now?  We hear thou shalt play the part of
Bellamira."  His lopsided grin stretched across his face. 

"Sir,
'tis true.  I shall."  She felt a chill creep over her with his
offhand words, realizing he was trying to trying to demean her by using the
common terms of wench and thou. 

"Alice
will tend to the monies of the play.  She has been instructed to receive
them from our Lord Admiral."  Kit said. 

Skeres
soft eyes fell upon her.  "Monies?  To the wench?  This has
not been done before Marlowe."

"I
have spoken to the man and he wishes it to be so."  Kit said.

Thomas
leaned back in his chair.  "Dear heart…we need the monies for your
stay abroad."

Kit
swallowed, lay his hands on the table.  Blue ink stains colored the tips
of his fingers.  The smell of quail drifted through the air and Alice felt
her stomach rumble. 

Celeste
entered silently through the doorway with a jug of wine and glasses. 

"Pray
tell, Tom, how long shall this be?" 

"And
how long shall we bear Whitgift?  'Tis too soon to tell the tale."
said Thomas.

"Whitgift
has the queen, at his knee, he does."  Poley said.

Skeres
chuckled.  "Aye.  But there it stops."  He took a sip
of the wine that Celeste had set before him. 

Alice
looked quickly at Celeste and she caught her eye, giving a quick wink.

Sir
Thomas sighed and looked long at Kit.  "Tis true.  She plays her
spymaster and her church warden well.  It is her suit." 

The
vision of the queen holding two cards of the emperor and the devil before her
danced in Alice's head.  She could clearly see the red hair and brown eyes
shining, as before a fire.  The tarot cards had been cast.

Alice
shook her head, dislodging the thought.  "But what of me Kit? 
How shall I find you?"

He
smiled.  "My chuck, you shall – "

"He
shall not be found!"  Sir Thomas snapped.

Alice
jumped, startled by the venom in his voice. 

"Tom,
I – "

Thomas
lay a finger to his lips and bent over the table.  "Whifgift has had
her followed.  He knows who she is.  None of the players know of
these doings.  Of our plan.  They believe Kit shall get the
monies.  What to do?  Give me the monies, love."

Kit
looked at Alice.  "What say you?"

"They
will not know me as queen boy." 

Kit
smiled.  "Aye.  The truth is in the telling, Tom. She shall be a
woman, but thought to be a boy."

Thomas
frowned and sipped his wine.  "You shan't stay queen boy for long
with such a bosom."

Skeres
and Poley chuckled.

"Sir,
I shall be bound." 

Kit
laughed.  "And bound to me ye shall come."

"Wine,
Sir?"  Celeste held the bottle aloft, hovering above Thomas's
cup.