This time, it was the other man who recognised Nicholas.
‘Is that you?’ he asked in disbelief. ‘No, it cannot be.’
Nicholas swung round to look at him. ‘John?’ he said. ‘John Strood?’
‘The very same, Nick.’
They embraced warmly then stood back to study each other more carefully. But for the coarse skin and deep furrows on his brow, Strood would have been a handsome man. Nicholas sensed disappointment and setback in his friend’s life but he was still overjoyed to meet someone with whom he had circumnavigated the world on the Golden Hind. John Strood had been a fresh-faced youth then, unable to fend off the attentions of another member of the crew. Nicholas had taken the lad under his wing and a lasting friendship had developed. Strood could not stop grinning.
‘Nick Bracewell!’ he said, slapping him on the arm. ‘I never thought to see you here. What business do you have in Dover?’
‘I work with a theatre company in London. We are on tour.’
Strood was impressed. ‘A theatre company?’
‘Lord Westfield’s Men.’
‘Have you played before the Queen?’
‘Several times.’
‘I knew that you’d make something of yourself, Nick.’
‘I’m only the book holder with the troupe,’ said Nicholas modestly. ‘It’s the actors who have gained us our reputation. But what of you, John?’ he went on, running his eye over his friend’s attire. ‘I’m glad that you’ve not deserted the sea.’
‘I’ve not had the chance. You are educated, I’m not.’
‘You’re a good seaman. That puts you high in my esteem.’
‘Thank you, Nick,’ said the other. ‘I wish that others thought as well of me.’
‘You’ve no need to worry about my good opinion.’
‘That means so much to me. You were the best shipmate I ever had.’
‘Sailing around the Cape of Good Hope together binds us for life.’
‘I always think of it as the Cape of Storms.’
‘So do I, John. An ordeal for any sailor.’
‘What I remember best is the day we boarded the Cacafuego and found all the Spanish treasure aboard. I still have dreams of that wonderful moment.’
While they traded memories, Strood’s face shone with delight as if recalling a time when he was truly happy. Nicholas could see that darker days had followed.
‘Which is your ship, John?’ he asked.
‘The Mermaid,’ replied Strood without enthusiasm.
‘Where is she?’
‘Out in the bay.’
Nicholas looked in the direction to which Strood was pointing. He understood why his friend was slightly embarrassed. Lying at anchor in the bay, the Mermaid was not a vessel that inspired admiration. It was a two-masted ship that looked old, neglected and in need of repair when compared with the trim vessels all around it. Strood clearly took no pride in the Mermaid.
‘Where do you sail?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Here and there,’ said Strood evasively.
‘With cargo or passengers?’
‘Both, Nick.’
‘What age is she?’
‘Too old for comfort.’
Nicholas pressed for more detail but Strood was unwilling to give it, preferring to talk about the work that Nicholas was involved in. When he heard that The Loyal Subject would be staged at the Guildhall, he promised to go and see it. They parted with another embrace. As he walked back to join his fellows, Nicholas was thrilled that he had met John Strood after an absence of so many years but sad that his friend had made such little progress in the world. He also wondered why Strood volunteered so little information about the ship that gave him his living.
The performance at the Guildhall was an unqualified success. The Loyal Subject touched on themes of fidelity and betrayal that struck a deep chord with a patriotic audience. Gill rode to another triumph in his wheelbarrow but it was Firethorn, as Lorenzo, executed in the final scene, who gave the most memorable portrayal. Westfield’s Men not only kept them enthralled for over two hours, they played with such unexampled brilliance that the mayor insisted they offer a second drama at the same place. They had earned both their fee and the opportunity to add substantially to it. There was more good news. A letter had arrived from their patron, saying that he would soon travel to Dover. It meant that Lord Westfield would reach the town in time to see them perform at the castle.
Because the Guildhall would not be used by anyone else for a few days, they were able to leave their stage in position. The scenery had to be dismantled, however, and the properties removed and stored. By the time that Nicholas had finished his work, there were still plenty of people in the hall, talking about the play or listening with interest to one of its leading actors. What everyone wanted to ask Firethorn was how he could still be alive when his head was visibly severed from his body on stage. Firethorn would not give away any secrets. In fact, the execution had been devised by Nicholas, who used a waxen likeness of Lorenzo’s head in the scene. When the executioner’s axe fell, the head appeared to be hacked from the body and it rolled across the stage, drawing gasps of surprise and horror from the spectators.
As Nicholas walked past him, Firethorn was still basking in the adulation of the mayor and his family. Gill, too, had an admiring circle around him and Hoode, the author of the piece, was being congratulated both on his play and his performance as the stern judge who sentenced Lorenzo to death. Hoping to see John Strood again, Nicholas was unable to find him and decided that he had not turned up after all. However, another old friend had been in the audience.
‘Nick!’ said Sebastian Frant, bearing down on him. ‘Welcome to Dover!’
‘Thank you.’
‘I did not expect you for some days yet.’
‘Canterbury turned us away while a religious festival is on.’
‘What is more religious than The Loyal Subject? It has a priest and two cardinals in the cast. You could have been part of the festival.’
‘We chose to come to Dover instead, Sebastian.’
‘Nobody is more pleased by that than I.’
Nicholas looked around. ‘Is your daughter not with you?’ he asked.
‘No, Nick. Thomasina is still at home. It was only by chance that I came into the town. When I heard that you would perform here, I was determined to come.’
‘It’s a play that you must have recognised.’
‘Most of it,’ said Frant, ‘for I was your scrivener when it was written. I copied it out from Edmund’s foul papers. But there were several changes I noticed, the most obvious being that there was no wheelbarrow when the play was first staged.’
‘That was forced upon us, alas. It was the only way to involve Barnaby.’
‘Malvino was crucial to the action, and a joy to watch. There were tears of laughter all around me. But tell me what happened since we last met,’ he said, dropping his voice. ‘I hope that you met with no more setbacks when you left Faversham.’
‘None that we could not overcome,’ said Nicholas, not wishing to talk about the avalanche. ‘And we reached Dover without any problem.’
‘That news gladdens my ear. What of your patron?’
‘He’ll be here in a few days to watch us at the castle.’
‘Lord Westfield must be very proud of his company.’
‘We like to think so. But I’m glad to see you again,’ said Nicholas. ‘You may be able to help me. Conway’s Men, as we hear, stay in Walmer. Their patron has a friend who lives nearby and they are to play at his house. Can you hazard a guess at whom that friend might be, Sebastian?’