Rotten at the Heart by Bartholomew Daniels

Author:Bartholomew Daniels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Osprey Publishing Ltd
Published: 2014-03-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

I arrived back at the theatre just as the afternoon performance had concluded, the crowd streaming out and seeming in good humour. My fellows, still in their costumes and paint, made me much welcome with both their usual insults and their honest sympathies, my having had no occasion to see them prior to departing for Stratford, nor since; my day being spent first with Webb, then at Somerset and then with Carey. It much buoyed my soul to be back in their company.

Jenkins, still in his womanly garb, curtsied and gestured toward my sword. “I see my fair charms hath made thy steel firm, good sir.”

Burbage overspoke the general laughter. “I would suffer you not to endure such little injury as that narrow blade might inflect, my lady, when you should instead be penetrated by my broader sword.” And more laughter, but then Burbage to me, “Pray tell me, though, Will, that your rapier be mere ornament for your dealings with Carey, and not carried in true need?”

And so I related such events as had transpired since I had made their company last, all being much aghast to hear how near death I had passed at St Paul’s, and much intrigued with the news as I had from Webb and of Somerset House.

“After St Paul’s, we can at least consider Carey’s favour true,” Burbage said, “him taking such risk on your behalf.”

“Having beheld this contest,” I said, “I think Carey at little risk in any matter settled with swords.”

“We would be advised,” said Heminges, “to remember our lord’s martial talents before we next perform for him. For should he make stern critique, it seems as like to cost us our heads as his patronage.”

Burbage produced a bottle of the sack he so favoured, and the bottle made the rounds of the Company. I was surprised to see Jenkins, who had only recent made the bottle’s acquaintance, drink from it so lusty.

“In drinking, at least, I see Jenkins is your good pupil,” I said to Burbage.

“Such good pupil that we must either increase his wage that he may pay for his drink, or increase mine that I can continue to supply him, as he current does much abuse my charity.”

“Take care, boy, that drink does not become your master,” I said to Jenkins.

“I have served worse,” he replied.

“And so he is Burbage’s good pupil,” said Heminges.

“I do not call drink my master, sir,” said Burbage in pretend umbrage.

“Perhaps your scourge?” asked Heminges,

“Oh, scourge, to be sure,” replied Burbage.

“We need another bottle,” said Jenkins, as, omitted in the conversation, he had taken chance to finish the first.

Burbage smacked Jenkins sound behind the head and laughed. “Then fetch it, boy, for you know well where it is stored.”

As Jenkins made his unsteady way across the stage, Burbage spoke to me.

“What news as to our lease?”

“Webb is to meet Miller today, and is optimistic for our interests. I should have word tomorrow.”

“Since we know at best our respite will be limited, we have

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