The Merry Devils

'Well done! said Isobel Drewry.

'I improve slowly.'

'You play sweetly, Grace.'

'The instrument pleases my ear.'

'And mine.' Isobel giggled obscenely. 'I wonder if Master Hoode can finger a virginal so delicately!'

'Do not be so vulgar,' said Grace with a smile.

He longs to play on your keyboard.'

'Desist!'

Isobel stepped across to the virginal and ran her finger along it to produce a tinkling stream of sound. They were in the parlour at Grace's house. Having demonstrated her skill on the recorder, she had shown equal prowess at the keyboard. It was a pleasant way to pass an hour together on a wet morning. Isobel was duly appreciative.

I could listen to you all day, Grace!'

'You may have to unless this rain stops.' But why did you play such sad songs?' No reason.'

'The music was exquisite but full of melancholy strains. Is that your mood today? Is your heart really so heavy?'

Grace smiled pensively then got up to cross over to the window. She watched the rain drumming on the glass and sending tiny rivulets on their brief journeys. Isobel came to stand beside her.

'Grace...' . 'Yes.'

'Have you ever been in love?'

'Have you?' said the other, deflecting the question.

'Oh, many times,' replied Isobel with a giggle. 'I fall in and out of love with almost any man--if he be tall enough and handsome into the bargain. That afternoon we spent at The Curtain, I tell madly in love with a young gallant who was seated opposite. We exchanged such hot glances across the pit that I wonder there was not a puff of smoke to signify our dealings. But it was all over when the play was done.' She slipped an arm around Grace. 'And what of you?'

'I have thought I was in love.'

'But it was not the thing itself.'

'No.' she brightened. 'One thing is certain, however. When the man does come along, I will know him.'

'Not if Isobel Drewry should spy him first!' They traded a laugh. 'Then you do not pine for Master Hoode?'

'He is a dear man and I am very fond of him.'

'But he does not make your heart pound?'

'No, Isobel. I have come to value him as a friend.'

You are the light of his life,' said the other. 'And when you watch The Merry Devils at the Rose tomorrow, Youngthrust will find a way to tell you so. I long to hear the outcome.'

'But you will be there to see it for yourself?'

'Unhappily, I will not. Father has put a stricter watch on me.'

'Why, Isobel?'

'One of the servants saw me leave with you the other day. She told father. He taxed me with disobedience and swore that I went to the playhouse to see Cupids Folly. I lied with all my might but I could not dampen his suspicion.'

'How were you seen? You wore a mask.'

'I was recognised by my dress.'

Grace sighed. 'But I did so want your company tomorrow.'

'Let your brother sit beside you.'

'He is busy.'

Grace came into the middle of the room with her hands clasped. She moved around as she racked her brain for a solution, then stamped her root with joy when she found it.

'It is but a case of wearing a better disguise, Isobel!'

'Disguise?'

'If the servants know your dresses, you must wear one of mine.'

'It is a clever idea, certainly.'

'And a hat with a veil. I'll provide that, too.'

'My own father would not know me, then!' Isobel gave her merriest giggle. 'I'll do it, Grace! I'd not miss that play again for anything.'

'Good! There is no risk of discovery'

'We will travel in secret like spies.'

'Veiled and hooded against all inquiry.'

'I will be veiled--and you will be Hooded!' She took her friend by the hands. 'Oh, I am so happy in this ruse. Father will be deceived.'

'What does he know of The Rose in Bankside?' said Grace. 'It is not as if he would ever visit such a place himself. Forget your fears, Isobel. You will be as safe there as in a nunnery.'

'But a lot more merry, I hope!'

*

Henry Drewry was finishing his meal alone when the servant brought in the package. Dismissing the man with a curt nod, the salter first washed down his meal with a swig of ale then belched to show his satisfaction. He examined the package and saw that it was addressed to him in his capacity as an Alderman. He could guess the sender and his supposition was confirmed. When he opened the package, he took out a printed text.

A SERMON PREACHED AT PAWLES CROSS

by Isaac Pollard

Imprinted at London by Toby Vavasour and to be sold at his Shop in the Inner Temple, near the Church.

1589

Drewry glanced at the first page to see that it offered a Discourse on the Subtle Practices of Devils. He heard Pollard's boom in every line and put the pamphlet aside. Then he noticed that something else had fallen out of the package. It was a tattered playbill. Smoothing it out and laying it on the table, he saw that it advertised a performance of The Merry Devils by Westfield's Men on the following afternoon. Sent to him to stir up his sense of outrage, it instead began to intrigue him.

Unaccountably, he felt the steady pull of temptation.

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Chapter Six

Lawrence Firethorn reserved some of his best performances for private consumption. He had a sublime gift for improvisation and could pluck any emotion out of the air at a second's notice. It was a trick that rarely failed. Even those who had seen him use it a hundred times could still be caught out by it. Suddenness was all.

'Rebellion in the ranks!' he yelled. 'When I lead Westfield's Men forward in the charge, I do not expect to be stabbed in the back from behind. Least of all by two such cowardly, such miserable, such lousy, beggarly, scurvy, unmannerly creatures as those before me now!'

George Dart and Roper Blundell were totally cowed.

'Loyalty is everything to me!' declared Firethorn, striking the pose he had used so effectively as King Richard the Lion-heart. 'I will not stomach traitors at any price! Do you know what I would do with them, sirs? Do you know how I would repay their betrayal of me?'

'No, master,' said George Dart. How, sir?' asked Roper Blundell.

'I'd have the wretches hanged, drawn and quartered, so I would! Then I'd have their heads set upon spikes outside the Tower, their livers roasted over a slow fire and their dangling pizzles sent to Banbury's Men by way of mockery!'

Dart and Blundell covered their codpieces with both hands.

They were in the room at the Queen's Head that was used for the storage of their equipment. Nicholas Bracewell stood in the background with Caleb Smythe, one of the actors. Both felt sorry for the assistant stagekeepers who had foolishly expressed their doubts about the performance of The Merry Devils on the following afternoon. The sad little figures were being summarily ground into submission.