Read Online The Opening Night Murder by Anne Rutherford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Rutherford
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Henry V, Richard III, All’s Well That Ends Well, Romeo and Juliet
…though they also knew Marlowe and Congreve, Horatio’s troupe performed Shakespeare’s plays far more frequently than those of any other playwright, and it was his good luck that the old plays were popular with folks in the street. Whenever word got out the troupe was setting up their stage, the ordinary people flocked to see them. And sometimes the not-so-ordinary people as well. In a fine spirit of participation, many in the audience brought rotten fruit and vegetables to throw if the performance was unsatisfactory, and Suzanne counted it a good day if they finished a performance without being pelted. Often the audience was offended to find the first woman any of them had everseen onstage, so she felt especially accomplished if a performance held the attention of the crowd well enough to make them forget the soft, oozing rubbish in their pockets.
Suzanne thoroughly enjoyed being onstage before a crowd. Pretending to be someone else made her own painful existence more bearable. For four hours or so each day she could be a young girl in love or the daughter of a king. She could writhe in the throes of a pretend death and know she would rise again. She could lose herself in the madness of a woman whose father had been murdered by her lover. All of it was better than what had been doled out to her by her Maker, and she was happy to live those other lives every day just before sunset.
Then once the bows were taken, the sun was down, and the audience had gone home, the troupe would dismantle the stage, load it onto a wagon, and move to other parts, always one step ahead of the soldiers of the Protectorate. They had down to a science the process of breaking down the stage and loading the wagon, and could accomplish the task in half an hour. Then they were off to a spot at the London outskirts, a different camp every night. The troupe would make a cook fire, receive the day’s pay, and cook and eat whatever provisions might be available that day. They’d discuss where to set up in the morning and what play they would perform. Sometimes they stayed more than a day in a given location if the crowd was enthusiastic, and on those occasions there was time for rehearsal. They would use that time to invent new bits that might be too complex to toss into the mix willy-nilly.
But generally practice was unnecessary, for most of the players knew their roles from long experience and being a quick study was a large part of success as an actor. Usually new bits came from improvised moments during a performance.Anything that worked stayed in and became part of the blocking. Those who weren’t inventive enough, or couldn’t keep up with those who were, never stayed long in the business.
Suzanne was fortunate in her ability to memorize quickly and accurately, and whenever a line slipped her mind she was nimble enough to invent something similar to Shakespeare’s text, so her fellow players had no trouble picking up the thread and carrying on. At which point her memory would refresh and she would be back on the correct path. Those two years were the happiest of her life.
Then one day when Piers was eleven and waiting offstage to hand some properties to actors awaiting their cues to enter, Suzanne was onstage in
Twelfth Night
and her character was in the midst of flirting with another woman, who was played by a boy not much older than Piers. The corner of her eye caught a glint of steel far off down the alleyway. Ever alert for trouble, and understanding the consequences of arrest, she broke character, gave a hard look, and saw the shining glint of a helmet making its way toward the stage.
One enormous breath, and she shouted,
“Roundheads!”
And without any more ado, she leapt from the stage, grabbed Piers’s arm, and hauled him, running, away from the soldiers. There was hollering
Henry V, Richard III, All’s Well That Ends Well, Romeo and Juliet
…though they also knew Marlowe and Congreve, Horatio’s troupe performed Shakespeare’s plays far more frequently than those of any other playwright, and it was his good luck that the old plays were popular with folks in the street. Whenever word got out the troupe was setting up their stage, the ordinary people flocked to see them. And sometimes the not-so-ordinary people as well. In a fine spirit of participation, many in the audience brought rotten fruit and vegetables to throw if the performance was unsatisfactory, and Suzanne counted it a good day if they finished a performance without being pelted. Often the audience was offended to find the first woman any of them had everseen onstage, so she felt especially accomplished if a performance held the attention of the crowd well enough to make them forget the soft, oozing rubbish in their pockets.
Suzanne thoroughly enjoyed being onstage before a crowd. Pretending to be someone else made her own painful existence more bearable. For four hours or so each day she could be a young girl in love or the daughter of a king. She could writhe in the throes of a pretend death and know she would rise again. She could lose herself in the madness of a woman whose father had been murdered by her lover. All of it was better than what had been doled out to her by her Maker, and she was happy to live those other lives every day just before sunset.
Then once the bows were taken, the sun was down, and the audience had gone home, the troupe would dismantle the stage, load it onto a wagon, and move to other parts, always one step ahead of the soldiers of the Protectorate. They had down to a science the process of breaking down the stage and loading the wagon, and could accomplish the task in half an hour. Then they were off to a spot at the London outskirts, a different camp every night. The troupe would make a cook fire, receive the day’s pay, and cook and eat whatever provisions might be available that day. They’d discuss where to set up in the morning and what play they would perform. Sometimes they stayed more than a day in a given location if the crowd was enthusiastic, and on those occasions there was time for rehearsal. They would use that time to invent new bits that might be too complex to toss into the mix willy-nilly.
But generally practice was unnecessary, for most of the players knew their roles from long experience and being a quick study was a large part of success as an actor. Usually new bits came from improvised moments during a performance.Anything that worked stayed in and became part of the blocking. Those who weren’t inventive enough, or couldn’t keep up with those who were, never stayed long in the business.
Suzanne was fortunate in her ability to memorize quickly and accurately, and whenever a line slipped her mind she was nimble enough to invent something similar to Shakespeare’s text, so her fellow players had no trouble picking up the thread and carrying on. At which point her memory would refresh and she would be back on the correct path. Those two years were the happiest of her life.
Then one day when Piers was eleven and waiting offstage to hand some properties to actors awaiting their cues to enter, Suzanne was onstage in
Twelfth Night
and her character was in the midst of flirting with another woman, who was played by a boy not much older than Piers. The corner of her eye caught a glint of steel far off down the alleyway. Ever alert for trouble, and understanding the consequences of arrest, she broke character, gave a hard look, and saw the shining glint of a helmet making its way toward the stage.
One enormous breath, and she shouted,
“Roundheads!”
And without any more ado, she leapt from the stage, grabbed Piers’s arm, and hauled him, running, away from the soldiers. There was hollering
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