‘Nor I from you.’
‘Then you approve of my idea?’
‘I revel in it. You have lifted a burden from my heart.’
‘You are not the only person I wanted to see,’ she teased. ‘I missed Lawrence Firethorn as well. And Barnaby. And dear Edmund, of course. James Ingram, too. The other person I am eager to meet again is Adrian Smallwood. I have not forgotten how he piloted us through that terrible storm.’ She saw his face darken. ‘What is wrong, Nick?’
‘We suffered a dreadful loss in Flushing,’ he said.
‘Adrian?’
‘He is no longer with us, Anne.’
‘I cannot believe that he left the company.’
‘It was not of his own free will.’
‘What happened?’
‘He was murdered.’
Anne’s jaw dropped and she gave an involuntary shiver. He put a steadying arm around her as she tried to assimilate the horror of what she had just been told.
‘Adrian murdered?’ she whispered. ‘By whom?’
‘That remains a mystery,’ he confessed. ‘But let me give you the full details. It is only fair that you should know how we stand. When you do, you may have second thoughts about travelling with a company that is under such severe threat.’
***
Westfield’s Men were not merely welcomed in Frankfurt, they were feted. Their request to play in the city-sent on their behalf by the obliging Burgomaster of Cologne-was unanimously approved by the Council, one of whom, a wealthy mercer, had visited England the previous summer and actually seen the company perform at the Queen’s Head. When his colleagues heard him singing the praises of Westfield’s Men, they wanted the actors to stay for ten days, but that was not possible if they were to reach Prague by the stipulated date. It was agreed that they would give performances on three successive afternoons before continuing on their way.
Anne Hendrik’s appearance on the scene was viewed as a boon by most of the company. However, not every voice was raised in her favour. Barnaby Gill made sure that Nicholas was out of earshot before he gave vent to his complaint.
‘We do not want her meddling in our affairs,’ he said.
‘Anne is not a meddler,’ asserted Firethorn.
‘She is a woman. That says all.’
‘She is a lady, Barnaby. Though I do not expect you to know the difference. A gracious lady whom we all respect.’
‘That is so,’ agreed Hoode.
‘Anne speaks German like a native of the country, and that is more than any of us can boast. She is a godsend to us.’
‘Speak for yourself, Lawrence,’ said Gill.
‘I speak for my whole company.’
It was the morning after their arrival and the three sharers were watching the makeshift stage being erected in a corner of the square under the supervision of Nicholas Bracewell. Trestles had been provided by order of the Council, along with the poles and material necessary for screening off the temporary theatre. Accustomed to public performance in the open air, the actors were not troubled by the constant din all around them. If they could out-shout the multiple bells of London, they could cope with the tumult of the Frankfurt fair. Anne Hendrik was also surveying the preparations. Gill let his jaundiced eye fall on her.
‘There is no place in the theatre for a woman,’ he said.
‘A lady,’ corrected Firethorn. ‘A lady.’
‘Woman, lady, widow or maid. They are all anathema.’
‘Not to any man with red blood in his veins.’
‘I came into the profession to escape womankind.’
‘You came in search of Clement Islip and his kind,’ said Firethorn scornfully. ‘Pretty boys with a pair of bewitching buttocks. That is all a theatre company means to you.’
Gill fumed. ‘I came to exercise my art,’ he said.
‘Corrupting innocent youths.’
‘Mistress Hendrik will hinder our work!’
‘That is not true, Barnaby,’ said Hoode reasonably. ‘Anne’s presence will curb some of the bawdier talk and that is all to the good. Obscenities are too readily exchanged when drink is taken. I am with Lawrence here. Anne will be a great benefit to us in a number of ways.’
‘Name me one,’ challenged Gill.
‘Dignity. She will lend us some dignity.’
‘There is no gainsaying that,’ added Firethorn.
A full rehearsal of Love and Fortune was not deemed necessary. It was fresh in their minds from Cologne and was a proven success in front of a German audience. Firethorn contented himself with making the company walk through the piece in order to get used to the feel of the stage and to assess the conditions in which they would perform. A large booth had been commandeered for use as the tiring-house. Beside it was a smaller tent in which scenic devices and properties could be kept.
Nicholas suggested an improvement which Firethorn readily embraced. Music was to be played between each of the five acts of the play to enable costumes and scenery to be changed, and to allow the audience time to absorb what they had just seen. The action of the play would be slowed but this was outweighed by the gains. Even without Adrian Smallwood, the company had four actor-musicians, and the quartet were pleased to be featured much more in the revival of Love and Fortune.
Chairs and benches were set out on raised platforms down at the rear of the auditorium. Complimentary seats were offered to the Burgomaster and his Council, but others paid four albus to watch the play from a sitting position. Standees were charged half that price. The day’s takings would be subject to a ten per-cent city tax but that did not alarm Westfield’s Men. When they saw the best part of a thousand people crowding into their theatre, they knew that they would make a tidy profit out of two hours’ strutting on a stage.
Minutes before the performance was due to begin, Firethorn spoke to his company like a general addressing his troops on the eve of a decisive battle.
‘Gentlemen,’ he declared, ‘it is time to show a German audience the true worth of English actors. We delighted with this play in Cologne but we must go beyond delight today. We must woo, we must ensnare, we must excite, we must captivate. Frankfurt has never seen players of our quality before. Let us scorch vivid memories in their minds and leave them gasping in astonishment. Remember, friends,’ he said, wagging a finger, ‘that we have two more performances to give here. If we distinguish ourselves today, we shall have even more people coming to see us tomorrow and the day after. Think of England, think of reputation.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Think of money!’
He had them straining to get out on the stage.
Anne Hendrik sat near the back and watched it all with fascination. She had seen the play more than once at the Queen’s Head, but this version was very different. It was played at a more measured pace and included additional songs and dances. Most of the wit and word-play was lost on the audience but they were entranced by the visual aspects of the production. Musical interludes allowed them time to discuss the plot before new twists were introduced to it. Moments of crude farce sent them into hysterics. Anne found herself studying the audience more closely than the play.
Frankfurt cheered the performance to the echo and all but drowned out the rival hullabaloo of the fair. The Burgomaster was thrilled by what he had seen and insisted on meeting the entire company. Since he spoke no English at all, Anne came into her own as an interpreter. Enthusiastic in his praise of everyone, the Burgomaster was especially taken by Barnaby Gill’s brilliant mimes. He talked excitedly to the clown for five minutes.
‘What on earth is the fool saying?’ asked Gill.
‘He says that you were splendid,’ translated Anne. ‘He and his wife have never laughed so much in their life.’
‘Oh!’ said Gill, basking in the commendation. ‘It is good to know that the city is run by a man of such discernment. What else did he say about me? I want to hear every word.’