The Queen's Head

'She did not even notice it, Anne.'

'It was unpardonable.'

'Susan Fowler is concerned with weightier matters.'

'How long has she known?'

'Today.'

'No wonder the girl is in such distress. I'd better go up to her at once and see what I can do to help her.'

'She will be very grateful.'

Anne went bustling across the room then stopped in her tracks as a thought struck her. She swung round on her heel.

'If the girl is going to be in your bed...'

'Yes?'

'Where will you sleep?'

His grin broadened and she replied with a knowing smile.

It would give her the chance to show him how sorry she was.

(*)Chapter Five

Edmund Hoode laboured long and hard over Gloriana Triumphant, and it underwent several sea changes. The first decision he made was to set it in the remote past. Censorship of new plays was strict and Sir Edmund Tilney, the Master of the Revels, was especially vigilant for any political implications in a piece. A drama featuring the real characters and issues involved in the defeat of the Armada would be far too contentious to allow even if it were a paean of praise. The principals had to be disguised in some way and a shift in time was the easiest solution. Elizabeth therefore became the fabled Gloriana, Queen of an ancient land called Albion. Drake, Hawkins, Howard, Frobisher and the other seadogs all appeared under very different names. Spain was transmuted into an imperial power known as Iberia.

Creation came easily to some authors but Edmund Hoode was not one of them. He needed to correct and improve and polish his work all the time. It made for delays and heightened frustration. 'When will it be finished?' demanded Firethorn. Give me time,' said Hoode. You've been saying that for weeks.' It's taking shape, but slowly.'

'We need to have it in rehearsal soon,' reminded the other. 'It will first see the light of day at The Curtain next month.'

'That's what worries me, Lawrence.'

'Pah!'

The Curtain was one of the very few custom-built outdoor playhouses in London and Firethorn was delighted that Gloriana

Triumphant would have its premiere there. Apart from the fact that the theatre was close to his own home in Shoreditch, it offered far better facilities and a far larger audience than The Queen's Head. It was also patronized more extensively by the nobility--Lady Rosamund Varley among them--and this added to its lustre Edmund Hoode still had qualms.

'I do not like The Curtain.'

'It is ideal for our purposes.'

'The audience is too unruly.'

'Not when I am on stage,' boasted Firethorn.

'All they want are jigs and displays of combat.'

'Then they will be satisfied, sir. You give them a jig, two galliards and a coranto. What more can they ask? As for combat, they will watch the greatest sea battle in history.'

'I'm still not sure that it will work.'

'Leave it to Nicholas. He'll make it work.'

'But I have never put ships on stage before.'

'It is a brilliant device. When the cannons go off, the audience will believe they see the Armada itself sink below the waves.' Firethorn caressed his beard. 'There is just one small thing, Edmund.'

'What?' sighed the author. 'Your small things always turn out to be a complete rewrite of the play.'

'Not this time. A few lines here and there will suffice.'

'To what end?'

'We need more romance somehow.'

'Romance?'

'Yes,' explained Firethorn, slapping the table for effect. 'I am portrayed as a famous hero and rightly so, but there must be another side to my character. Show me as a great lover!'

'During a sea battle?'

'Insert a scene on land. Perhaps two.'

It was yet another example of the influence that Lady Rosamund Varley was having upon him. Since she had taken an interest in him, he went out of his way to present himself in the most attractive light. To play a love scene on stage was a means of rehearsing a dalliance with the lady herself. Firethorn was ready to distort the drama with incongruous material so that he could convey a message to one person in the audience.

'We already have romance,' argued Hoode.

'Between whom?'

'The seamen and their ships. The subjects and their queen. The people and their country. It is all love in one form or another.'

'Give me real passion!' insisted Firethorn.

'Passion?'

'Between a man and a woman.'

'But there's no reason for it.'

'Invent one.'

They were sitting in the room at Hoode's lodgings where the author had spent so many interminable nights struggling with the play. He looked down at the sheaf of papers that made up Gloriana Triumphant. To contrive a love affair would mean radical alterations to the whole structure but he knew that he had to comply. Firethorn was relentless in his persistence.

Hoode's mind wandered back to an earlier humiliation.

'I played my first important role at The Curtain.'

'Were you well-received?'

'They threw apple cores at me.'

'Ungrateful dolts!'

'It was an omen,' said the author gloomily. 'The Curtain has never been a happy place for me.'

'We will change all that with Gloriana Triumphant!

Edmund Hoode did not share his optimism. Like most men who took their precarious living from the playhouse, he was racked by superstition. Those apple cores still hurt.

*

Being married to one of the finest actors in England was an experience which would have cowed most wives but Margery

Firethorn rose to the challenge splendidly. She was a woman of strong character with a Junoesque figure, an aggressive beauty and a bellicose charm. There were four apprentices to look after as well as two small children of her own and occasional lodgers from the company, and she ran the household with a firm hand and a fearless tongue

She enjoyed a tempestuous relationship with her husband and they shuttled at will between loathing and love, so much so that the two extremes sometimes became interchangeable. It made the house in Shoreditch a lively place.

'Who is she, Barnaby?'.'

'I have no idea what you are talking about.'

'Lawrence is smitten again.'

'Only with you, Margery,' he said with mock innocence.

'I feel it in my bones.'

'Marriage has many ailments.'

'How would you know?'

He rolled his eyes and gave her a disarming smirk. It was Sunday and Barnaby Gill had called at the house, ostensibly to pay his respects, but chiefly to feed her suspicions about the existence of a new amour in her husband's life. When she pressed him further, he deployed innuendo and denial with such skill that he confirmed all she had guessed at. Smug satisfaction warmed him. It was always pleasing to spread marital disharmony.

The performance of plays was forbidden on the Sabbath and not even the reckless Firethorn was ready to flout that ruling within the City walls. Lord Westfield's Men had a nominal day of rest though it rarely worked out like that.

Barnaby Gill glanced around and tried to sound casual.

'Is young Dick Honeydew at home?'

'Why do you ask?'

'I wanted a word with the lad.'

'Indeed?'

Margery Firethorn had got his measure the first time that she had ever met him. Though she liked him and found him amusing company at times, she never forgot the more sinister aspect of Barnaby Gill and it brought out her protective instinct. 'Is he here?'

'I don't think so. He was going to sword practice.'

'Oh.'

'Nicholas promised to instruct him.'

'The boy should have come to me. I'd have taught him to thrust and parry. Where is this instruction taking place?'