Shakespeare's Scribe by Gary Blackwood

Shakespeare's Scribe by Gary Blackwood

Author:Gary Blackwood
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781101563496
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2002-02-17T22:00:00+00:00


17

We pulled up the carewares, and Mr. Heminges and Mr. Armin rode forward to talk with the apparent leader of the group, a lanky man wearing the leather jerkin of a constable. The discussion appeared to be a heated one. Finally the blockade of bodies opened up and let our little troupe move on. The townsmen looked no more cordial than before, however, nor did they disperse. In fact they walked alongside us, as though escorting us.

Jamie Redshaw smiled in a friendly fashion and tried to exchange a few words with one of their number, but the man would not respond; he only stared straight ahead, with a scowl on his face. We came to an inn, but the sharers marched us on past it. We did not even pause until we were all the way through the town and into the countryside again. Then Mr. Heminges signaled us to halt, dismounted, and gathered us prentices and hired men about him.

“Why did they not let us stay?” demanded Ned Shakespeare.

“It’s the contagion, isn’t it?” I said.

He held up his hands to silence us. “P-please. G-give me a chance to tell you. We were p-preceded, it seems, by another troupe of p-players.”

“Pembroke’s Men!” cried Ned.

“No, apparently they were no legitimate c-company at all, only a company of thieves. They p-passed themselves off as players, of course. They’d had ill luck, they said, and asked the m-mayor for money for f-food and lodging, to be repaid out of the b-box from the next day’s performance. They p-paid the innkeeper with promises as well, and then left in the m-morning with all the advance money and without g-giving a performance—save the one with which they d-duped the mayor. Naturally he was n-not anxious to be t-taken in again, by us.”

“But we have papers!” protested Jack. “Did you show them our papers?”

“Of c-course. But these rogues had p-papers, too—very official looking, and very f-false.”

“When were they here?” asked Jamie Redshaw.

“They left j-just this morning.”

“Then we should not be wasting time,” Jamie Redshaw declared, smacking his walking stick impatiently against his palm. “We’ve got to catch up with them.”

Mr. Heminges smiled wryly. “We are not s-soldiers, Mr. Redshaw, looking to d-do battle with the enemy.”

“But if we don’t overtake them, they’ll spoil every town for us before we get there!”

“I r-realize that,” said Mr. Heminges, a trifle more sharply. “But we c-can assume they will stick to the smaller t-towns, where n-no one is likely to know the real P-Pembroke’s Men. We’ll t-try our luck in more p-populous places.”

Jamie Redshaw shook his head disapprovingly. “Avoiding them will solve nothing. I’d confront them now, before they do more harm.”

“Ah, but you see, you’re n-not in charge of this c-company, Mr. Redshaw,” said Mr. Heminges pointedly, and walked away.

I had watched the preceding scene with great discomfort. Though I felt my father’s reasoning was sound and I wanted very much to ally myself with him, I was at the same time reluctant to speak out against the sharers.



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