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Authors: Edward Marston
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together before.’
‘Lucius has his strengths,’ argued Nicholas, ‘and he will grow as a dramatist, but he’s no counterfeit Edmund Hoode. Ask him to finish the play and you’d see a glaring join between what each of them wrote. It could not be concealed. And there is the question of Edmund’s pride. He might not wish another hand to meddle with his play.’
‘Yet we must offer some novelty for our audience,’ said Firethorn. ‘Look how well they respond to
Caesar’s Fall.
It allows us to display our skills in new ways. And there is nothing to match the challenge of performing a work for the first time. It keeps us on our toes.’
‘As a dancer,’ boasted Gill, ‘I am always on my toes.’
‘Your fault, dear Barnaby, is that you keep treading on everyone else’s.’
‘There is one hope,’ said Nicholas, rubbing his chin. ‘Michael Grammaticus may be able to furnish us with whatwe need. He told me that he was working on something else, though I’ve no idea how far he has advanced, or if the piece would be suitable.’
Gill was dismissive. ‘It would be another tragedy. You only have to look at the fellow to know that he has no humour in his soul. Michael is too saturnine. He inhabits the murky underworld of drama, creating tragic heroes with besetting faults that lead to their destruction.’
‘That may be so,’ said Firethorn, ‘but his tale of Ancient Rome had spectators queuing halfway down Gracechurch Street this afternoon. Speak to him, Nick. I’d be interested to read anything that comes from his fertile brain.’ He pulled a face. ‘I just wish that I could bring myself to like Michael a little more.’
‘He has many good qualities,’ said Nicholas, ‘and is generous to a fault. Did you know that he’s been paying Doctor Zander’s bills?’
Firethorn was taken aback. ‘Why should he do that?’
‘Because he worships Edmund and draws his inspiration from him. He also feels guilty that it was during the rehearsal of
Caesar’s Fall
that Edmund suffered his own collapse. It seems that Michael insisted on paying for any treatment needed.’
‘That could be costly if the illness drags on.’
‘It makes no difference to Michael,’ said Nicholas. ‘He told Edmund that nothing was more important to him than finding a cure for this mysterious ailment.’
‘I begin to admire this Michael Grammaticus, after all,’ said Firethorn.
Gill was more critical. ‘He’s too arid a companion for me.’
‘He’ll be relieved to hear that, Barnaby. He’s shown no interest in women but, by the same token, he’d not wish to become one of your pretty boys either. I think the fellow’s taken a vow of chastity.’
‘What’s this about chastity?’ asked the landlord, cheerfully, coming to stand beside their table. ‘If you seek it here, my friends, you are in the wrong place. Chastity’s the one thing that’s not on our bill of fare. Some have lost it here,’ he added with a chortle, ‘but none, I dare swear, have ever managed to find it.’
Firethorn laughed. ‘I cannot even remember what chastity is, Adam.’
‘You were born a rampant satyr,’ taunted Gill.
‘It’s the secret of a happy life.’
‘Happiness comes from having an occupation that you love,’ said Adam Crowmere, complacently. ‘The stage is your kingdom, Lawrence, and I hold court here. As you see,’ he went on, using an arm to take in the whole room, ‘my happiness consists in spreading happiness. Listen to that laughter and merriment.’
‘We had precious little of that under our last landlord. What news of him?’
‘A letter came from Dunstable today. Alexander complains that his brother’s hanging on to life by his fingernails, but will not have the grace to go. It may be weeks before he’s ready for his coffin.’
‘If only they would bury that rogue, Marwood, alongside him.’
‘He’ll not know the Queen’s Head when he returns,’ said Crowmere. ‘We’ve more trade and livelier
‘Lucius has his strengths,’ argued Nicholas, ‘and he will grow as a dramatist, but he’s no counterfeit Edmund Hoode. Ask him to finish the play and you’d see a glaring join between what each of them wrote. It could not be concealed. And there is the question of Edmund’s pride. He might not wish another hand to meddle with his play.’
‘Yet we must offer some novelty for our audience,’ said Firethorn. ‘Look how well they respond to
Caesar’s Fall.
It allows us to display our skills in new ways. And there is nothing to match the challenge of performing a work for the first time. It keeps us on our toes.’
‘As a dancer,’ boasted Gill, ‘I am always on my toes.’
‘Your fault, dear Barnaby, is that you keep treading on everyone else’s.’
‘There is one hope,’ said Nicholas, rubbing his chin. ‘Michael Grammaticus may be able to furnish us with whatwe need. He told me that he was working on something else, though I’ve no idea how far he has advanced, or if the piece would be suitable.’
Gill was dismissive. ‘It would be another tragedy. You only have to look at the fellow to know that he has no humour in his soul. Michael is too saturnine. He inhabits the murky underworld of drama, creating tragic heroes with besetting faults that lead to their destruction.’
‘That may be so,’ said Firethorn, ‘but his tale of Ancient Rome had spectators queuing halfway down Gracechurch Street this afternoon. Speak to him, Nick. I’d be interested to read anything that comes from his fertile brain.’ He pulled a face. ‘I just wish that I could bring myself to like Michael a little more.’
‘He has many good qualities,’ said Nicholas, ‘and is generous to a fault. Did you know that he’s been paying Doctor Zander’s bills?’
Firethorn was taken aback. ‘Why should he do that?’
‘Because he worships Edmund and draws his inspiration from him. He also feels guilty that it was during the rehearsal of
Caesar’s Fall
that Edmund suffered his own collapse. It seems that Michael insisted on paying for any treatment needed.’
‘That could be costly if the illness drags on.’
‘It makes no difference to Michael,’ said Nicholas. ‘He told Edmund that nothing was more important to him than finding a cure for this mysterious ailment.’
‘I begin to admire this Michael Grammaticus, after all,’ said Firethorn.
Gill was more critical. ‘He’s too arid a companion for me.’
‘He’ll be relieved to hear that, Barnaby. He’s shown no interest in women but, by the same token, he’d not wish to become one of your pretty boys either. I think the fellow’s taken a vow of chastity.’
‘What’s this about chastity?’ asked the landlord, cheerfully, coming to stand beside their table. ‘If you seek it here, my friends, you are in the wrong place. Chastity’s the one thing that’s not on our bill of fare. Some have lost it here,’ he added with a chortle, ‘but none, I dare swear, have ever managed to find it.’
Firethorn laughed. ‘I cannot even remember what chastity is, Adam.’
‘You were born a rampant satyr,’ taunted Gill.
‘It’s the secret of a happy life.’
‘Happiness comes from having an occupation that you love,’ said Adam Crowmere, complacently. ‘The stage is your kingdom, Lawrence, and I hold court here. As you see,’ he went on, using an arm to take in the whole room, ‘my happiness consists in spreading happiness. Listen to that laughter and merriment.’
‘We had precious little of that under our last landlord. What news of him?’
‘A letter came from Dunstable today. Alexander complains that his brother’s hanging on to life by his fingernails, but will not have the grace to go. It may be weeks before he’s ready for his coffin.’
‘If only they would bury that rogue, Marwood, alongside him.’
‘He’ll not know the Queen’s Head when he returns,’ said Crowmere. ‘We’ve more trade and livelier
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