A seventh member of the band was meanwhile making it impossible for those in the first wagon to render assistance. He came riding out of the trees with a loud whoop and lashed at the rumps of the horses with a whip. They bolted at once and Nicholas suddenly found himself in charge of a runaway wagon. He did not stay on it for long. Cries from behind him told him of the ambush and he reacted with great speed.
Thrusting the reins into Hoode’s hands, he dived head first off the wagon and knocked the rider from his saddle. The fall jarred both of them but Nicholas was the first to recover, pinning the man to the ground and raining blows to his head until he was senseless. He deprived the robber of his sword, then looked after the wagon long enough to see that Hoode was somehow getting the animals under control. Nicholas ran to collect the stray horse and clamber into the saddle. As he kicked his mount into a gallop and went to the aid of his fellows, he could hear the commotion ahead of him.
The three apprentices had leaped out of the wagon in terror and Barnaby Gill was pleading for mercy on his knees. Firethorn, Ingram and Elias were putting up a fight and even Dart was waving a token dagger at the attackers. When a horse came around the bend, the robbers expected an accomplice who would help them overcome the resistance of the actors. Instead, they had to contend with Nicholas in full cry.
He hacked the sword from the hand of the first man he met, then sent a second sprawling to the ground with a blow from his forearm. Nicholas engaged a third in such a fierce duel that the man took fright and swung his horse away. Inspired by the help from their book-holder, the actors fought off their attackers with renewed aggression. The apprentices snatched up twigs and logs to hurl at the robbers. Even Gill found enough courage to draw his dagger and wave it in the air.
As Nicholas wounded another man in the arm, the robbers gave up. Their leader called a retreat. He scooped up the man who had been buffeted to the ground, then led the other horses off through the trees. Nicholas pursued them for a hundred yards, then doubled back to the wagon, gathering the second stray horse on his way. His colleagues were shaken but excited.
‘Thank heaven you came, Nick!’ said Firethorn gratefully.
‘An accomplice made our horses bolt so that you would be isolated.’ Nicholas looked at his dishevelled friends. ‘They chose the second wagon because it seemed less well-defended. They will rue their mistake now. All they collected was a few cuts and bruises while we have gained two horses out of the ambush.’
With Hoode at the reins, the other wagon came rumbling around the bend towards them. The modest playwright was astounded at his own heroism, having mastered the runaway horses and saved his passengers from any injury. When Nicholas saw that Anne was quite safe, he looked up thankfully at the panting driver.
‘Well done, Edmund!’ he congratulated. ‘But what of the man I unseated from his horse?’
‘He has fled into the trees,’ said Hoode. ‘When we rode past, he was limping away with his hands to his head, groaning piteously. He will remember his encounter with Nicholas Bracewell.’
‘We must remember to be more alert,’ warned the other. ‘If the wagons had been closer together, that attack might never have occurred. Our safety lies in staying together.’
‘From now on, we will be inches behind you,’ promised Gill. ‘That was the most terrifying experience of my life. We might all have been killed.’
‘They were after your wagon and your valuables,’ said Nicholas. ‘You protected both bravely.’
‘Yes,’ added Firethorn with heavy sarcasm. ‘Barnaby distracted them so cunningly when he begged for mercy like that. His knees were every bit as effective as our swords.’ He let out a cry of triumph. ‘We beat them, lads! We gave them a taste of English steel and sent the rogues packing. Nick has spoken true. Together, we survive-apart, we perish! Let us go forth as a united band of brothers. Nobody will then break us asunder. We are gentlemen of a company and gallant soldiers of fortune.’
***
Bohemia was disappointing. Nourished by fantasies on their interminable trek through Germany, they expected to cross the border into Bohemia and be met by stunning vistas of that fabled country. Nothing seemed to change. The same landscape rolled out before them, the same cows and sheep grazed in the fields, the same herds of pigs and flocks of geese obstructed them in villages and hamlets. They even got the same curious stares from the peasants as they passed, though the occasional words they overheard were now in Czech rather than German. Disenchantment swept through both wagons.
When they finally had struggled all the way to Prague, they needed something truly phenomenal to restore their faith and at first they believed that they were seeing it.
‘Look at it!’
‘Remarkable!’
‘Wonderful!’
‘Astonishing.’
‘Incredible!’
‘Have you ever seen such a city?’
‘It is better than Cologne!’
‘Or Frankfurt!’
‘Or even London!’
‘This is no earthly city,’ decided Firethorn, hungrily devouring every morsel of the joyous vision before him. ‘We have been travelling on a highway to Heaven itself!’
Wagons which had halted in awe now set off with urgency as Westfield’s Men sought to enter the sacred portals. Exhausted actors were now throbbing with life. Drooping spirits were lifted to soaring heights. Bohemia was at last yielding up its celestial heart to them. Prague was a paradise.
It was a huge, gold-embossed galleon riding upon the back of the mighty River Vltava as it surged irresistibly through the very heart of the city. Castle and cathedral dominated Prague from their lofty eminence on the western hill and gazed down at the Karlov Most, the Charles Bridge, which spanned the river with sixteen vast but graceful arches. Built almost two centuries earlier by Emperor Charles IV, the bridge was the lifeline between the two halves of the city. Westfield’s Men had never seen anything so immense and so ornately decorated. London Bridge was one of the finest sights of their own city but it had nothing like the scale and statuary of this.
The nearer they got, the more entranced they became.
‘It is heaven!’ argued Firethorn. ‘The only place fit for an angel like Sophia Magdalena.’
‘Count those spires,’ said Hoode in wonder. ‘Every church in Bohemia must be encircled by the city walls.’
‘It has been a grim journey,’ said Nicholas, turning to Anne. ‘Do you regret now that you came with us?’
‘Not after seeing this, Nick,’ she affirmed. ‘It beggars all description. I would have come twice as far and endured much worse privations in order to view this Elysium.’
‘It is beautiful.’
‘Beyond compare.’
‘Let us hope it lives up to its appearance.’
Paradise was not without its problems. They caught the first whiff of one of them when they were still a few hundred yards away. The pervading stench of Prague was carried on the wind. It was caused by the piles of filth and excrement in the narrow streets. Flies buzzed everywhere. Dogs scavenged and fought. As they plunged into the city, its stink and squalor reminded them hideously of London.
Prague was an optical illusion. Seen from afar, it was indeed a golden city. Closer inspection revealed it to have rows of decrepit timber-framed cottages alongside stone hovels that were scarcely bigger than huts. Emperor Rudolph might live in a sumptuous abode up on the hill, but many of his subjects eked out a wretched existence in houses that were little more than kennels. The juxtaposition of magnificence and misery was every bit as grotesque as in London.