‘Where do you live now, Sebastian?’ asked Nicholas.
‘In a tiny village not far from Dover.’
‘We play in Dover in due course.’
‘You’ve also played here, I learn,’ said Frant. ‘Had I known, I would have come to watch you. I will certainly hope to see Cupid’s Folly for, judging by the maypole, that is the comedy you intend to present here.’
Nicholas smiled. ‘How did you guess?’
‘I copied out every word of the play, including its songs.’
‘And earned my undying thanks. No hand is clearer or neater.’
Frant flexed his fingers. ‘If only that were still the case!’
‘What brings you here?’
‘What else but the news that Westfield’s Men are in Maidstone? My daughter and I are staying with some friends in Bearsted, close by the town.’
‘I did not realise that you were married.’
‘Nor am I any longer,’ said Frant sadly. ‘My wife died three years ago.’ He smiled fondly. ‘But I have my daughter to comfort me now. She is a joyous companion. Thomasina is truly a gift from God.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Barely nineteen.’
‘Will we get to meet the young lady?’
‘Thomasina will insist upon it,’ said Frant. ‘We arrived too late to watch your performance last evening but will not miss Cupid’s Folly. How long will you stay in Maidstone?’
‘Until tomorrow.’
‘Whither will you go?’
‘First to Faversham,’ said Nicholas, ‘then on to Canterbury. From there, we travel to Dover where you may chance to see us again.’
‘I’ll hope to watch you before then, Nick. I’ve a brother in Faversham whom I’ve not seen for a while. He may well find that he has guests for a day or two.’
‘It will be comforting to have a good friend in the audience.’
‘Westfield’s Men make friends wherever they go.’
‘Not of your quality, Sebastian. You understand our work.’
‘I understand how difficult it is,’ said Frant, ‘because I’ve seen how much effort goes into each performance. What I do not understand is how you can so willingly bind yourselves to such an uncertain occupation, at the mercy of things over which you have no control. Winter exiles you from your inn yard theatre, plague can expel you from London altogether. And there are other perils to face at every turn.’ He gave a polite shrug. ‘Why do you do it, Nick?’
‘I wish I knew.’
‘Do the rewards outweigh the hazards?’
‘Most of the time.’
‘I admire you all,’ said Frant seriously. ‘You take risks that I would not even dare to consider. I chose a quiet, safe, dull, uneventful life. I am too cowardly to do what actors do, Nick. You show true bravery.’
Nicholas gave a wry smile. ‘Is it bravery or folly?’
‘The two are closely allied.’
‘We’ve learnt that, Sebastian. But come and meet the others,’ he added, patting Frant on the arm. ‘There are many in the company who still remember you.’
‘Edmund and Lawrence, I hope.’
‘Westfield’s Men would die without them.’
‘And Barnaby. If you play Cupid’s Folly, you must travel with Barnaby Gill.’
‘He’s here,’ said Nicholas, ‘but not to play Rigormortis. An affray at the Queen’s Head sent us out on the road. Barnaby’s leg was broken in the commotion.’
Frant was alarmed. ‘A broken leg?’ he repeated. ‘What a cruel blow to a man with such nimble feet. How did it happen?’
‘Let him tell you the story himself, Sebastian.’
‘I long to hear it.’
‘First, be warned. Barnaby is in a truculent mood.’
‘A broken leg would make anyone truculent.’
‘It is not the leg that irks him but a black cat.’
‘A black cat?’ echoed Frant. ‘Is not that a sign of good fortune?’
‘Not in this case. That’s his complaint.’
‘This is not a request, Lawrence. It’s a demand. Giddy must be dismissed forthwith.’
‘When he has proved himself such a boon to us?’
‘He’s no boon to me,’ growled Barnaby Gill. ‘He’s a curse.’
‘Everyone else loves the man.’
‘They have not been entombed in a foul privy!’
‘Calm down, Barnaby.’
‘They have not been attacked by a wild cat in the middle of the night. If Giddy Mussett had done either of those things to them, they’d take a different view of him.’
‘But he did neither of those things to you,’ said Lawrence Firethorn.
‘He did, he did.’
‘Nick Bracewell swears the man is innocent.’
‘Then he conspires against me.’
‘Giddy shared a room with Nick and Edmund. At the time when a cat came in through your window, Giddy was fast asleep.’
‘Only after he’d tossed the animal in on top of me.’
‘How could he? Nick vouches for him. He never left their room.’
‘Then Nick is lying through his teeth.’
‘I beg leave to doubt that, Barnaby,’ said Frant, standing in the doorway. ‘Nick Bracewell is as honest as the day is long. He would not lie to anyone.’
‘Sebastian!’ cried Firethorn, pounding him on the shoulder by way of a welcome. ‘It’s good to see you again after all this time. What brings you here?’
‘I’ve come to defend Nick against vile accusations.’
‘I can do that for myself,’ said Nicholas, who had entered the taproom with him. He turned to Gill, who was seated in a chair. ‘You have my sympathy for what happened last night. It must have been a shock to you. But do not blame Giddy Mussett.’
Gill was still enraged. ‘I blame the pair of you.’
‘Then you must blame Edmund, Dick Honeydew and the other apprentices as well for all of them shared the room with Giddy. The six of us will take our Bible oath that he did not stir from his mattress.’
‘He must have. Who else would hurl a cat on top of me?’
‘Could not the cat have jumped in on his own?’ suggested Nicholas. ‘They are famed for their curiosity. An open window was an invitation he could not refuse.’
‘There,’ said Firethorn. ‘That’s your answer, Barnaby. This cat took a liking to you and wished to sleep in your arms. Enough of your protests, man. Do you not recognise an old friend standing here?’
‘I am sorry to hear of your plight, Barnaby,’ said Frant pleasantly.
‘Which one?’ replied Gill. ‘They come upon me daily.’
‘Nick talked of an affray at the Queen’s Head.’
‘It was more than that, Sebastian. It was vicious assault on me. When they could not take my life, they broke my leg instead. I believe that Giddy Mussett may have been behind that outrage as well. He had me removed so that he could usurp my place.’
‘This is lunacy,’ said Firethorn. ‘Ignore him, Sebastian. When the riot broke out, the man Barnaby accuses was locked up in the King’s Bench Prison.’
Frant was interested. ‘Tell me more. Who caused the affray?’
‘My enemies,’ wailed Gill.
‘It was not simply an attack on you, Barnaby,’ scolded Firethorn.
‘Then why is my leg in a splint?’
‘We were all victims that day,’ said Nicholas. ‘Westfield’s Men were robbed of their home and a murder was committed in the gallery.’
‘Murder?’ gasped Frant.
‘During the tumult, a friend of Lord Westfield’s was stabbed to death.’
‘Can this be true? A spectator killed while watching a play?’
‘Felled by an assassin who was biding his time.’
‘These are dreadful tidings. Who was the man?’
‘His name was Fortunatus Hope.’
‘Newly come to London and part of our patron’s circle,’ said Firethorn.
‘Before that,’ added Nicholas, ‘he was an acquaintance of Lord Conway’s.’
Frant shook his head. ‘He was much more than an acquaintance, Nick,’ he explained. ‘Conway’s Men have played in Dover a few times and I have met their patron more than once. I am sure that he introduced me to a Fortunatus Hope last year. It is not a name that one forgets.’