Nicholas recognised him at once as a playwright who had been rudely rejected by Lawrence Firethorn, only to achieve success with a rival company. It was John Vavasor.
Westfield’s Men knew only too well that they had let themselves down. Over their drinks in the taproom, they searched for explanations.
‘I felt so tired,’ admitted Edmund Hoode. ‘Tired and distracted.’
‘My heart was simply not in the play,’ said Owen Elias.
Francis Quilter sighed. ‘We all know why,’ he said. ‘We’re still in mourning for Nick Bracewell.’
‘And for Hal Bridger.’
‘Yes, Owen. Even more so for him.’
‘Nick will come back but Hal is gone forever.’
‘And in his place,’ Hoode reminded them, ‘we have Saul Hibbert.’
‘What will he have thought of us today?’
‘I daresay that he’ll tell us, Frank, and in blunt terms as well.’
‘No,’ said Elias. ‘We’ve been rescued from that. Lawrence has gone to intercept him and take full responsibility for what happened onstage. It’s the one useful thing he’s done all day.’
‘An act of penitence.’
‘He needs to show some of that penitence at home. According to Dick Honeydew, life in Old Street has been even more ear-splitting than usual. Margery took her husband to task for the way he treated Nick.’
‘Good for her!’ said Hoode.
‘I’d love to have been a fly on the wall,’ said Quilter.
Elias grinned. ‘Every fly within a mile heard the quarrel. Dick tells me that Lawrence was even exiled from his bed. No wonder he was so peevish this morning.’
‘It sounds to me as if Margery had the courage that we lacked.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Hoode. ‘She stood up to Lawrence.’
‘So did I,’ claimed Elias. ‘I swore he’d never share my bed again until Nick Bracewell was back with us.’
‘Do not jest about it, Owen. It’s too serious a matter for that.’
‘Where is Nick?’ wondered Quilter. ‘Is he not here today?’
‘I’ve not seen him, Frank. Nor do I expect to do so.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’ll want to steer well clear of Saul,’ said Hoode, ‘and, since he was not holding the book this afternoon, Nick may feel out of place.’
‘Out of place!’ echoed Elias. ‘A pox on it! And a pox on Saul Hibbert as well! It’s an evil day for us when Nick Bracewell feels out of place among his friends. We need him.’
‘He’ll not be back while The Malevolent Comedy holds the stage.’
‘Then we defy Lawrence and refuse to play in it.’
‘Yes,’ said Quilter. ‘I’ll back you in that enterprise.’
‘Edmund?’
‘Let’s not act too rashly,’ said Hoode, holding up his palms.
Elias was shocked. ‘Do you not want Nick back with us?’
‘Of course, and as soon may be. But it would be wrong to whip the company into a frenzy over a choice of a play. I’ve no high opinion of Saul as a man,’ he continued, ‘but I’m the first to applaud his work. I’m an author myself and know how difficult it is to write a sprightly comedy. There’s an important principle at stake here.’
‘Yes,’ said Elias. ‘We want Nick instead of Saul Hibbert.’
‘No, Owen. It has a deeper significance than that. Should the company spurn a good play simply because it dislikes the playwright? Look at my case,’ Hoode said. ‘Everyone loves me yet How to Choose a Good Wife was turned down because it was a bad play. That’s how it should be. A play must be judged on its merits and not on the personality of its author.’
‘I never thought Saul’s play had any merits,’ said Quilter.
‘Then you are at variance with hundreds of happy spectators.’
‘Edmund is right,’ said Elias, grudgingly. ‘The play is popular.’
‘Not with those of us who have to act in it.’
‘I still believe that we should challenge Lawrence.’
‘Leave that to Margery,’ said Hoode. ‘She loves Nick as much as any of us and will do her best to get him back. Margery is our true champion. Let her joust with Lawrence on our behalf.’
Elias nodded. ‘It shall be so,’ he decided with a smile. ‘Margery will knock her husband from his saddle and trample all over him until he begs for mercy. That’s where our hope lies — in the arms of a woman.’
Nicholas Bracewell remained in his hiding place until the yard was almost clear. He was pleased that the performance had suffered no disturbance though his relief was tempered with disappointment. He felt that an opportunity had been missed to catch the person who had left such an indelible stain on the two earlier performances. Nicholas showed his customary tact. He did not even think of leaving the room until he saw that Saul Hibbert had disappeared from the gallery. Nothing would be served by another argument with the playwright. At least, Nicholas thought, he would not be blamed for the shortcomings that had come to light that afternoon.
When all but a few stragglers had gone, he left the room and went downstairs. Coming into the yard, he first encountered Leonard.
‘What did you see?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Little beyond the play.’
‘You were supposed to be on guard.’
‘I was, until the Clown began to dance,’ said Leonard. ‘I could not take my eyes off him. He made me laugh. I’m sorry, Nicholas.’
‘Luckily, we did not need you.’
‘I’m always here if you do.’
‘Unlock the stables and feed the horses,’ said Nicholas, ‘or you’ll have the landlord shouting at you again. And — thank you!’
‘I thank you for letting me watch such a wondrous comedy.’
Leonard walked off and Nicholas turned his attention to the stage. Under the direction of Thomas Skillen, the decrepit stagekeeper, George Dart and the others were removing the boards and folding the trestles. After bearing the weighty responsibility of holding the book, Dart had now reverted to his more usual role as an underling, and Skillen kept reminding him of it. To spare the old man effort, Nicholas took over many of the stagekeeper’s duties himself but Skillen was proving that he was still capable of doing them, even though now in his seventies.
Nicholas gave him a cheerful wave and waited patiently until the stage had been put away. George Dart then ran eagerly back into the yard to speak to him, looking up at Nicholas like a dog that expects a pat of approval from its master.
‘You did well, George,’ said Nicholas.
‘Thank you.’
‘The play went off without any misadventure.’
‘I was too frightened to make a mistake,’ replied Dart.
‘We’ll make a book holder of you yet.’
‘Coming from you, that’s real praise.’
‘I never doubted you, George.’
‘Master Firethorn did. After the rehearsal this morning, he was ready to nail me to the wall of the tiring-house.’
‘I hope that he had the grace to congratulate you this afternoon.’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Good,’ said Nicholas. ‘Fetch me the play and I’ll be off.’
‘Will you not stay to join us in the taproom?’
‘Not today.’
‘But everyone will expect you there.’
‘I’d feel a little uneasy,’ confessed Nicholas, ‘because I was not really part of the company this afternoon. I’d be an outsider. Besides, there’s always the chance that Master Hibbert will be there as well to soak up praise from any spectators. For a number of reasons, I prefer to keep out of his way.’
‘So do the rest of us,’ said Dart, sharply.
Nicholas clicked his tongue. ‘Now then, George.’