The Vagabond Clown (8 page)

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

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.

It was Nicholas Bracewell who helped to restore their confidence. Not only did he show Mussett where to stand and when to move in each scene, he repeated the clown’s lines over and over again until Mussett had committed them to memory. The others were amazed at the speed with which their new colleague was mastering the basic elements of his role. What he lacked was Gill’s familiarity with the part and his ability to invest each line with a comic slant. His jig, however, was equal to that of his predecessor and his facial contortions made the onlookers break into spontaneous laughter. Gill was less than amused. Still outraged at the proposition that he should be carried around in a wheelbarrow, he had retired to his room to sulk. He was now watching the rehearsal through the window with a mixture of sadness and pique, dejected because he was unable to take part and nettled that his role had been given to a man whom he loathed so much. Each laugh that Mussett gained was like a dagger through Gill’s heart.

When the company paused for refreshment, Lawrence Firethorn sought the opinion of the two people he trusted most, Edmund Hoode and his book holder.

‘Well?’ he asked. ‘How do you judge him?’

‘Giddy has done well,’ said Hoode. ‘He has a better memory than any of us. Whether it will stand up to the hazards of performance is another matter. I’d have preferred a week at least in which to rehearse him.’

‘We do not have a week, Edmund.’

‘Nor do we need it,’ said Nicholas. ‘Give me time to work with him privily and I’ll have him ready for the good citizens of Maidstone.’

‘What of
Cupid’s Folly
, Nick?’ asked Firethorn.

‘We’ll look at that as well.’

‘The clown holds the whip hand over all of us in that play,’ noted Hoode. ‘Would it not be sensible to choose a drama that puts less weight on him? There is so much for Giddy to learn.’

‘That will not disturb him.’

‘No,’ added Firethorn. ‘When I told him about his other role, he could not wait to play Rigormortis.’

‘There are other reasons to choose the play,’ said Nicholas. ‘This yard will be an ideal place in which to stage it and the piece is a favourite of the mayor’s. He would not dare to miss it. Where he leads, many others will follow.’

Hoode was worried. ‘I still feel that we ask too much too soon of Giddy.’

‘Someone must take the role of Rigormortis.’

‘Not if we select another play.’

‘We have the costumes and scenery for
Cupid’s Folly
.’

‘And for
Vincentio’s Revenge
.’

‘This is no town for tragedy, Edmund,’ said Firethorn. ‘Let’s brighten their day with happy laughter. There’ll be rustics in the audience, brought in from miles around. The soaring verse of
Vincentio’s Revenge
will be wasted on them. We’ll play it later in the tour to more discerning spectators.’

‘I agree,’ said Nicholas. ‘
Cupid’s Folly
, it shall be.’

Hoode pursed his lips in doubt. ‘I hope that it does not prove
our
folly.’

‘You saw this morning how quickly Giddy can learn.’

‘Yes, but I’d feel safer if Barnaby were able to help. He has delighted an audience as Rigormortis well above thirty times. He should be the one to instruct Giddy in the way that the part should be played.’

‘You ask the impossible,’ said Firethorn. ‘The only thing that Barnaby would consent to teach Giddy is how to take his own life.’

‘Besides,’ argued Nicholas, ‘it would be wrong for one clown to school another. We do not want a pale replica of Barnaby. Giddy must give his own performance.’

‘Can he possibly do it in a mere two days?’ wondered Hoode.

Mussett supplied his own reply. Stepping out onto the gallery that ran around three sides of the yard, he struck a pose and declaimed the opening lines from the prologue to
Cupid’s Folly.

‘Dear God!’ said Firethorn with delight. ‘He has mastered the prologue even though he does not have to speak it in the play. Giddy is a true marvel.’

Nicholas smiled. ‘That’s why I suggested his name.’

‘I cast off all my worries,’ said Hoode. ‘He may yet outdo even Barnaby.’

Gill heard him and felt salt being rubbed enthusiastically into his wounds.

Two days later, they were finishing their rehearsal in the Lower Courthouse in readiness for their performance that evening. Their stage had been set up at the far end of the room in a position that had been occupied by the assize judges. Scenery was artfully used to create a rural setting and both doors were concealed behind skilfully painted trees that stood on bases of solid wood. One door led to the tiring-house where the costumes and properties were arranged in order, the other to an antechamber that was used for storage but which was connected by a door to the larger room that had become their tiring-house. When they were not acting in the play, the musicians sat on a platform that was raised above the level of the stage. Having rehearsed the piece outdoors, they had to make a number of adjustments. Voices that had rung around the yard at the Star Inn had to be modified in a more confined space. Movements had to be changed as they went along. Effects that had always been successful at the Queen’s Head proved much more difficult indoors and had to be adapted accordingly. It made for a long and testing rehearsal during
which many mistakes were made. Owen Elias began to have serious doubts. When they finished their work, he drifted across to Nicholas Bracewell.

‘Was it really as bad as it felt, Nick?’ he asked.

‘I have seen it better performed,’ said Nicholas.

‘How can we lose so much of our spark?’

‘The surroundings are unfamiliar. You need to find your feet.’

‘Feet, hands, head and body,’ said Elias. ‘We lost them all.’

‘You are too harsh, Owen. A rehearsal is a time to explore and that always leads to errors. When you have an audience in here, it will be very different.’ He glanced down the room at Barnaby Gill, who sat motionless on a chair with his arms folded. ‘All that you had was a lone spectator.’

‘That’s what unsettled us. Barnaby made us feel that we were on trial.’

‘His eyes were not on you. Only one performance concerned him.’

‘I know,’ said Elias. ‘He came to gloat over Giddy’s errors but they were too rare to notice. Barnaby will have been disappointed. Instead of letting us down, Giddy was the best of us.’ He looked across at Mussett. ‘How long can he keep it up, Nick?’

‘Until we have our own clown back again.’

‘I did not mean his work on stage. It is this peculiar change that’s come over him. We’ve been in Maidstone for three days and I’ve not seen him once drink ale, chase women or lose his temper.’

‘Those were the conditions under which we employed him.’

‘
I
could not keep to such a contract,’ admitted Elias. ‘Lechery is natural to any red-blooded man. Strong drink merely helps it take its course. We have a duty to take our pleasures where we find them.’

‘You follow inclination more than your duty,’ said Nicholas with a grin. ‘Giddy is the dutiful one. His pleasure consists in proving to Barnaby that he is the better clown. He needs a clear head to do that.’

‘Can he
keep
that clear head?’

‘If he does not, then we are all lost.’

It was a sobering thought.
A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady
was a play that relied heavily on its clown. Lawrence Firethorn took the leading role but Mussett’s support was crucial. On the following day, he would be taking on an even more demanding role. It would increase the burden on him. If Mussett faltered in either piece, the whole play would crumble around him. Nicholas was alive to that danger.

‘Do you know why he left Conway’s Men?’ asked Elias.

‘He told me that the quality of their work was too inferior.’

‘That’s not the story I had, Nick. According to Giddy, he stole a woman right from under Tobias Fitzgeoffrey and let her warm
his
bed instead.’

‘Master Fitzgeoffrey has his own skill at stealing,’ said Nicholas. ‘Conway’s Men have not only filched plays that do not belong to them, they bought cloth from a weaver
here in town and rode off without paying him.’

‘Why does he not bring an action against them?’

‘How can he when he has no idea where they are?’

‘The company is touring Kent.’

‘Then we must be the magistrates here, Owen,’ said Nicholas. ‘If we chance to catch up with them, they can be arraigned on three charges. Theft is one. Inciting an affray at the Queen’s Head may well be another.’

‘What is the third?’

‘Conspiring in the murder of Fortunatus Hope.’

Barnaby Gill was in a quandary, not knowing whether to watch or spurn the performance that evening. Loyalty to Westfield’s Men made him wish them success but hatred of Giddy Mussett induced a hope of failure. He could not bear the notion of seeing his rival cheered to the echo by an audience. At the same time, however, he was so possessive about the role that he had created that he did not want to miss its appearance on a stage. On the way back to the Star Inn, his mind was in turmoil. There was a practical problem to be faced as well. He had ridden to the Lower Courthouse in the wagon that carried the scenery but he had to walk back. Even with George Dart’s assistance, it took him almost twenty minutes to reach the inn, leaving him with a bare half-hour before he would have to set off again for the performance. It was a painful journey. The crutch dug into an already bruised armpit and his broken leg ached every time he swung it forward. Dart offered a tentative solution.

‘Would it not be easier to use that wheelbarrow, Master Gill?’ he asked.

‘Never!’

‘I could move you to and fro much faster in that.’

‘But without a shred of dignity,’ said Gill.

‘Nick Bracewell has disguised it so well. It does not
look
like a wheelbarrow.’

‘It does to me, George, and I’ll have none of it.’

Dart knew better than to pursue the discussion. When they reached the inn, he was dismissed and went off to seek refreshment with the others. Gill felt out of place in the taproom, especially as everyone was saying kind words to Mussett about his performance during the rehearsal. Exhausted by the walk, Gill made his way to his room, questioning the wisdom of attending a play that would commit him to another arduous journey. The wagon might bring him back after the performance but he would still have to get to the Lower Courthouse on foot. It was a frightening prospect. Common sense urged him to remain at the inn that evening in order to spare himself the agonising walk and the discomfort of watching someone else play the role of Bedlam.

Still unable to reach a decision, he let himself into his room. A shock awaited him. Standing beside his mattress and taking up much of the space was the wheelbarrow that Nicholas Bracewell had mended. Gill was incensed. His first instinct was to call the landlord to have the object removed but something made him pause. When he looked more closely at the wheelbarrow, he saw how artfully Nicholas
had fashioned it. The board would offer good support for his back and, as he had seen, provision had been made to hold up the leg that was in splints. A large piece of fustian had been draped over the cushions to add more comfort and to disguise the outline of the wheelbarrow. Only the wooden wheel proclaimed its earlier function. Gill’s objections began to weaken. He was even tempted to try sitting in it.

What held him back was the fear that Mussett might be playing a trick on him. If the wheelbarrow had been tampered with, he might get into it then find that it collapsed. Yet it seemed sturdy enough when he shook it and it looked more inviting with each moment. Gill put the crutch aside. Using a hand to steady himself against the wall, he lowered himself into the wheelbarrow and sank back into the cushions. When he lifted his broken leg onto the piece of wood that had been put there for the purpose, he felt strangely comfortable. Gill smiled for the first time since they had left London.

Lucas Broome had not exaggerated. A large audience squeezed itself into the Lower Courthouse, excited by the notion of watching a celebrated London theatre company at work. Wearing his mayoral robe and regalia, Broome sat in the front row with his wife, surrounded by members of the town council with their respective spouses. Three rows of chairs gave way to several rows of benches with standing room at the rear for those arriving too late to secure a seat. It was early evening with ample natural light for the
performance, though candles had been set out in case they were required later. There was a buzz of anticipation as the spectators awaited
A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady
, a title that was already provoking amusement in some quarters. Convinced that they were about to witness a remarkable event, Broome settled back complacently in his seat.