The Slaying of the Shrew (6 page)

"Milord, upon my oath, I can assure you that my apprentices and I have exercised the utmost care and taken absolutely no untoward liberties," the tailor said, in a gravely offended tone. "Indeed, if any injury has been sustained here, it has been to young Gregory, yonder, who was just assaulted in a most unseemly manner by your daughter."

"Aye, 'twas most unseemly," echoed Gregory, looking like a little dog that had been kicked.

"I'll give you unseemly, you lying little guttersnipe!" said Catherine, raising her hand at him. Gregory cowered, as if in fear for his very life.

"That will be quite enough, Kate!" her father said.

"I
hate
it when you call me Kate," she replied, through gritted teeth. "My name is Catherine!"

"I should think I ought to know your name, girl, I bloody well gave it to you."

"Father!"

"Be silent! God's Wounds, I shall be eternally grateful when at last you have become your husband's baggage and not mine. These seventeen long years I have put up with your sharp tongue and it has exhausted all my patience."

"Really, Father, it cannot have been that long, surely. For the first three or four of those seventeen years, I could scarcely even speak."

"You learned soon enough and well enough to suit me," Middleton replied, dryly.

"I have always sought to please you, Father," Catherine said. " Tis a source of great discomfort to me that I have always failed to do so. Would that I had been a son and not a daughter, then doubtless I would have found it much less of a hardship to find favor in your eyes."

"Would indeed that you had been a son and not a daughter," said her father. "Then I would not have had to pay nearly a king's ransom to get you married off."

Gregory, the young apprentice, chuckled at that, but Catherine ignored him. The only evidence she gave that she had heard him was a tightening of her upper lip. Elizabeth thought it was insufferable that her father should speak to her that way in front of Strangers. She felt awkward being in the same room with them herself.

"And yet you are paying merely in coin and a vested interest in your business," Catherine said, "while I am paying with my body and my soul and all my worldly goods. If the shoe were on the other foot, and 'twas I who paid the dowry to have
you
married off, then which of us, I wonder, would you think was paying the greater price?"

"The greatest price, I fear, shall be paid by poor Sir Percival, who shall be marrying naught but trouble and strife," said Middle-ton. "My conscience is clear, however, for none can say that I made any misrepresentations at all in that regard. Indeed, I made a point of it to acquaint Sir Percival in full with the nature of your disputatious disposition, so that no claim could afterward be made that I was not forthright in all respects concerning this betrothal and this union, and so that no rancor ever could be borne."

"And that is very well, for I would not wish you to bear Sir Percy's rancor, Father," Catherine said. "Better by far that a husband should bear rancor towards his bride than towards his father-in-law. 'Tis well that you have so fully acquainted him with the nature of my disposition, as you say, for now at least one of us shall know something of the one with whom we are to say our vows."

Her father harrumphed and frowned, looking as if he were about to make a sharp rejoinder, but instead chose to direct his comments towards the tailor. "Are you finished yet with all this bother? God's Wounds, one would think that you were costuming the queen herself!"

"A moment more, milord," the tailor said, fussing about and hovering around Catherine like some great predatory bird. He made a few final adjustments, stepped back to admire his handiwork, nodded to himself with satisfaction and then clapped his hands, signalling his apprentices to finish and pack everything away.

"At last!" said Catherine, with a heavy sigh. "I was beginning to feel like some bedraggled scarecrow in the field."

"Would that your dress were no more expensive than a scarecrow's," said her father. "With what this fellow charges for his work, I could attire at least half the court."

"Milord, I
have
attired at least half the court," the tailor responded stiffly, "and upon occasion, even Her Majesty herself, as you must surely know, for you had inquired about my work before you ever came to me. If a gentleman wishes to have nothing but the very best, then he must be prepared to pay for nothing but the very best. I can assure you that once the work is done, and your daughter in her wedding dress would make the goddess Aphrodite blush for the meanness of her own apparel, I am confident that you will consider the money to have been well spent, indeed."

"Spent is just how I shall feel when all of this is over," Middleton replied. "No sooner shall I have recovered from the ordeal of marrying off" my eldest daughter than I shall have to contend with marrying off" my youngest, who already has suitors flocked about her like hounds baying at the moon. A day does not go by, it seems, when some young rascal does not come pleading for her hand."

"Well, be of good cheer then, Father," Catherine said, "for at least you have never been beleaguered so on my account."

"Had you a sweeter and more amiable disposition, like your sister, you might have been married sooner, Kate," her father replied.

"Never fear, dear Father," Catherine said pleasantly, with only the barest trace of sarcasm in her voice, "I shall be married soon enough, and sweet and amiable Blanche will surely follow hard upon, for all the panting swains who trip over themselves to find her favor. Then, when you are at long last rid of both your daughters, doubtless you shall find the peace and carefree solace you have always longed for."

"Indeed, the day cannot come soon enough for me," he said, stepping aside to let the tailor and his apprentices out the door. He wrinkled his nose as they passed and raised a small pomander on a gold link chain to his nose. The little golden ball was perforated, so that the scent within could escape and help mask offending odors. "Good evening, Elizabeth."

"Good evening, sir," she said, lowering her head, though not so much out of respect as to conceal her smile and barely-suppressed giggle at Catherine's face, which was perfectly mimicking her father's expression of distaste behind his back.

"I could just scream," said Catherine, after he had left and shut the door behind him. She rolled her eyes. "The way he goes on over this wedding, one would think he was out at the elbows."

" 'Tis a most elaborate and costly affair, though, you must admit," Elizabeth said. "Her Majesty's own tailor makes your wedding gown, a grand, costumed progress on the Thames is being planned, to say nothing of the players and the fair being held to commemorate the occasion… indeed, your father spares no expense."

"But do you think any of it is truly for
me?"
asked Catherine, as her tire woman helped her out of her large hooped, canvas and whalebone farthingale, which she had worn over a simple homespun long tunic for the fitting. "He does it all only for himself, so that all of London shall talk of nothing but the wedding of Godfrey Middleton's daughter. Such a spectacle! So grand! So fabulous! And to think what it must have cost him! That, my dear Lizzie, is the true object of this entire exercise."

"But everyone knows full well how rich your father is," Elizabeth replied, with a slight frown. "How does he profit by reminding them?"

" 'Tis not everyone he wishes to remind," said Catherine, as she removed her long tunic and was assisted into a simple kirtled skirt of marigold velvet accented with gold and silver embroidery. "Mind you, he wishes everyone to speak of this Olympian wedding festival for months on end, but only so that an important few may hear."

"But why?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well, you know, of course, that each year at about this time, the queen sets out upon her annual progress through the countryside," Catherine replied. "She takes a different route each time, one year moving with her entire court from Whitehall to Suffolk, then to Norfolk and from there, on to Cambridgeshire, perhaps. Another year, she will travel from Westminster to Sussex to Kent, or else to Northamptonshire, and then on to Warwickshire and Staffordshire… but each and every year, with never an exception, she begins her progress the same way. Her first stop is always at Green Oaks, where Sir William Worley entertains her lavishly. And each and every year, Elizabeth, at about this very time, my father nearly wears his teeth down to the gums for gnashing them because the queen has chosen to sleep beneath Sir William's roof instead of ours. He would do anything to have her stay at Harrow Hall, instead, even if 'twas only once, for once is all that it would take to vault him into the vaunted ranks of the queen's favorites. And once he can number himself amongst that exclusive company, he will have attained influence at court, prestige, and power, which is what he desires above all else. Meanwhile, what his daughter may desire concerns him least of all."

"I know only too well how you must feel," Elizabeth said, sympathetically. "Your father and mine have much in common, which is doubtless why they are good friends. They understand one another."

"As do we, dear Lizzie," said Catherine. " Tis a pity they do not understand us as well. But then, they do not truly wish to understand. Men never do."

And thinking of her argument with Smythe, Elizabeth sighed and said, "No, it seems that they do not."

Chapter 3

GODFREY MIDDLETON'S STATELY, TURRETED STONE manor was elegant testimony to his success in business, thought Smythe as their little caravan turned up the winding road leading to the estate. It was dramatic evidence of how the world was changing, when a "new man" like Middleton could, with luck and industry, pull himself up by his own bootstraps and enter the new—and much despised by some—English middle class, though there was nothing at all middling about Middleton's estate.

Located a few miles to the west of Westminster, Middleton Manor overlooked the Thames, fronting on the river's north bank. The large river gate gave access to several terraced flights of wide stone steps that led up to the house, and it was this way that most of the wedding party would arrive during the grand nautical progress that was planned. Part of the duties of the Queen's Men, aside from putting on a play, would be to act as costumed greeters for the wedding guests, so they had been provided with a map drawn up especially for the occasion, showing the general layout of the estate, with instructions as to where their stage should be erected, as well as where the pavillions and the booths for the fair would be set up.

The house was set back a considerable distance from the road, on the crest of a gently sloping hill. The narrow, winding drive that led up to the imposing stone house from the main thoroughfare curved around a copse of good, stout English oaks and shrub thickets that hid a large pond from view from the road. They saw it as they came around the bend, where the road ran below and past the house for a short distance and then doubled back to the top of the hill, leading past lushly planted gardens and an elaborate maze with its tall hedges carefully clipped to perfection. As the road curved around the side of the house, leading towards the front entrance on the river side, it gave way to a cobblestoned plaza large enough for a coach to turn around.

Past the stables and some outbuildings, on the gentle slope to the east of the house, they could see the gayly striped and berib-boned pavillions for the wedding and, just beyond them, in the field, the stalls for the fair were being erected. Already, merchants were arriving and setting up their tables. Most came by boat, disembarking and unloading their goods at the ornately carved stone river gate, but others, eager for an opportunity to sell their wares to some of the wealthiest citizens of London, were braving the road in carts and wagons, taking their chances not only with highwaymen, but with the weather as well, which could easily render the road from the city impassable in the event of rain. The river was by far the preferable and most reliable way for most people to travel in the environs of London, but unfortunately, it would not serve a company of players setting out upon a wide-ranging tour of the surrounding countryside.

"Quite the hurly burly," Shakespeare said, as he observed all the activity. "That ground will be all churned up into mud by the time this festival is over. I do not envy the groundskeepers all the work that they shall have to do to put it right again."

"They shall doubtless merely plough it up for planting," Burbage said. "There shall not be too much damage, as this is only a small, private fair, a social event for the wedding guests alone," Dick Burbage said. "The merchants are allowed to participate by invitation only."

Smythe shook his head. "Even so, I should not wish to clean up after all of this. How many stalls and tents are they erecting? It seems I can count at least thirty or so from here. That does not seem like a small fair to me at all."

Burbage laughed. "You will not say that after you have lived awhile in London, country boy. Bartholomew's Fair boasts many more stalls and tents than you shall see here by a good measure, and the Stourbridge Fair, near Cambridge, is larger still. You would never see it all properly in just one day. However, I would wager that the goods you shall find for sale here will come a great deal more dearly than the run of what you might find at Bart's or Stourbridge. These boys will all be charging as much as the traffic will allow, and you may be sure the purses here shall all be rather heavy ones."

They were riding together at an easy walk, three or four abreast, with a wagon and two carts following behind, giving them the aspect of a small gypsy caravan. On the road, a company of players traveled as lightly as possible, but they still needed to bring all of their costumes and their props, as well as the materials to put up their stage and effect any necessary repairs to their equipment while they were out on tour. Sometimes it was necessary to send a rider or two on ahead to make preparations for their arrival in a town or at some country inn, and so they travelled with several spare mounts in addition to the cart and wagon horses. The wagon was painted with their name in ornate, gilt-edged letters, so that all would know the Queen's Men were approaching, and they proudly flew their swallowtailed banner, as well.