Muse of fire, p.25
Muse of Fire, page 25
‘You are going with your husband? Though you do not love him,’ he observed, ‘nor does he know how to love you.’ This was hardly an insult, since she had confirmed as much to Will before now. He knew her husband lacked both passion and prowess.
‘My husband, who you have mocked for his failings as a lover…’ she considered this, then admitted, ‘as have I, to my shame, may be wanting in one regard but is superior to you in all others.’
‘How so?’ Will was affronted now.
‘He is a good husband – yes, it’s true – and a good father also. Have you forgotten too that he is one of the cleverest men in the realm, writing books in Italian, working on his dictionary?’
‘You think your husband a better man than me?’
‘I know he is.’ And when Will seemed about to chide her for this answer, ‘My husband is surely a better man than you for he would never betray me, whereas you have betrayed your wife, Anne, with many women over time, have you not?’
‘Don’t say her name!’ He was ashamed to hear it on his lover’s lips.
‘Why? Because I dishonour her or offend you somehow by the remembrance that you have a wife? Had you forgotten her or do you choose to?’
‘You condemn me for committing the same acts with you that you commit with me? Does that not make you a hypocrite?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘And I condemn myself along with you. At least I am honest enough to admit the sin. One day we will both face God. Then we will have to account for our deeds on this earth. I have already admitted mine and do not claim to be a good person. I have been wanton of late and much led by my appetites. There, you have it.’ She meant her confession. ‘Yet you, Will, seem loath to admit your own depravity. You are like those blushing, swooning girls at court, who claim virginity and feign virtue, then leave their rooms at night to meet men in dark corners of the palace. They won’t admit their sins to themselves, much less to others, and so the pretence and the lying will continue, perhaps until the end of time. But you, Will, are not some callow lady-in-waiting. You should admit who you are, but you cannot, can you?’ She was scathing and he did not like her tone. ‘Why is that?’
‘You make this sound like something it is not, as if we were beasts rutting in a field.’
‘Well,’ she smiled grimly, ‘not in a field, but there was that time in the gardens at Greenwich.’
‘I mean that it is more than just a tupping.’
‘Was it?’ She was already using the past tense.
‘Yes!’ At first he was outraged that she might think he considered it so, but then he looked at her face and finally realised the truth. He considered this to be more than a tupping, but she did not. ‘Are you saying this was naught but lust?’ he asked.
Seeing his distress, her tone softened then. ‘I’m saying it was a game. You and I were a masque of love. We pretended it meant more, when neither of us could possibly leave the world we inhabit and run off with each other to a different one. I admit we both lived that foolish fantasy while in those moments together. But then we climbed from the bed and returned to the world we truly live in. Happier? Perhaps. Sated, satisfied, a hunger quelled, a longing fulfilled? Yes.’ She nodded. ‘But understand this, you were my lover, not my love.’ She regarded him coldly then, dispassionately, and he knew even before she spoke further that it was definitely over between them, no matter what he said, and he was already missing how it had made him feel. ‘You were a distraction, at best. For me, it was little more than the scratching of an itch.’
‘Then I was deceived.’ Avisa looked like she would react angrily then. ‘Not by you,’ he told her and she calmed herself. ‘By myself. When I walked to meet you, I thought I was meeting my love. The dark lady I had written about so many times.’
‘How could that be me, Will? When you have been writing about her for years. She is some other lady.’
‘She was many ladies over time,’ he admitted. ‘Whenever I became enamoured of one, I would take a memory here, a fragment there, and I built that dark lady up in my imagination until she became the perfect model of my love. Though she did not in reality exist.’ And he looked into her eyes. ‘Then you came along. I thought my dream was made flesh for the first time and, from that day forth, I never did look to another. That need was gone and I was happy then. You were married of course, because God does like to mock me, so I never dared to think you could be mine, but you sought me out and chose to lay with me, and then I did dare to dream.’
‘Of what, Will?’
‘Some better future we might share.’
‘How would we do that? By running away? Getting on a ship to somewhere? Pretending to be married to each other and not who we were truly tied to before God? How long before we were found out? Or did you believe your wife might die one day, my husband too, but not us, so we would be together then?’ She scoffed at that notion.
‘I don’t know what I believed, but I had some small hope, and it felt better than this.’
‘I am sorry, Will. I never thought of us at all beyond that bed or these walls.’ She informed him coolly. ‘We were just a happy dream but were always going to wake from it one day.’
‘Then the dream is over?’ he asked her and when she offered no words of comfort: ‘Goodbye then, Avisa.’ His voice cracked and he turned away from her because he did not want her to see the effect this parting would have on him.
She walked to the door then and when her voice reached him from it, its calmness cut into him like a dagger. ‘Goodbye, Will.’
* * *
He remembered watching a game as a child, when several women had played a trick on a young man by teasing him with a blindfold. They spun him round until he was dizzy and urged him to catch one of them, while effortlessly skipping clear of his flailing hands, for they had the advantage of sight, and he had been rendered blind in their presence. Undaunted by how foolish he must have looked, the boy had kept vainly attempting to pursue them, spurred on by the sounds of their excitement and the possibility of catching and pulling them close to him. Oh, how they had shrieked and giggled, mocking his inability to trap one of them and make her his. He never did catch any of them but did injure himself more than once by bumping into tables. Will had watched the women and realised they wouldn’t have done this to a man they actually wanted, someone they considered handsome or desirable. The entire point of the game was their enjoyment of how desperate the boy was to win one of them, and how equally sure they were that they could evade him. Their squeals of excitement came from the prospect of an unpleasant fate in his arms, and that provided the danger they needed to pass their time in the afternoon. Will had pitied him then.
He felt just like that boy now, as he left Avisa’s company for the last time. He was a blind man, mocked and flailing at nothing, while she effortlessly evaded him.
Chapter Forty-One
‘I know thee not, old man.’
—Henry IV
They were waiting for Cuthbert to join them at the tavern for food and ale. He was late, which was unusual for such a fastidious man. They filled the time with talk of the theatre and the latest news or gossip from the members of the main acting companies.
‘Did you hear about Kempe?’ asked Richard.
‘I did,’ Will replied.
‘What about Kempe?’ Cuthbert arrived then, just in time to hear Richard’s news of their former comedic actor. ‘Does he threaten to sue us too?’ Since receiving Giles Allen’s deposition, Cuthbert feared court cases more than bears, and he had always been frightened of the latter, even when they were chained. He knew the courts could bankrupt the company and worried that every letter he received was a summons.
‘No. He is to undertake a jig,’ said Richard.
‘And why is this noteworthy? He has done many of those and each of them overlong.’
‘This one will be even longer,’ Richard replied, to Cuthbert’s bemusement.
‘He is to dance all the way from London to Norwich,’ Will explained, ‘setting off tomorrow.’
‘But that’s…?’
‘More than a hundred miles,’ Will confirmed.
‘Has he lost his mind?’ asked Cuthbert.
‘He did not get the offers he was hoping for when he left the company,’ Will explained. ‘Henslowe won’t have him at the Rose, nor Lanman at the Curtain. They both know what trouble he is, and the money we gave him for his share has almost gone.’
‘I heard he tried to borrow money from Henslowe,’ said Richard. ‘And was refused.’
‘So, he is to dance for a hundred miles?’ Cuthbert was shocked.
‘More like a hundred and ten,’ his brother corrected him. ‘Kempe aims to make it there in nine days.’
‘His feet will be bloodied stumps before he reaches Norwich,’ Cuthbert predicted.
‘He hopes to make some coin in villages along the way,’ said Will.
‘He has fallen this low?’ asked Cuthbert. ‘Holding out his cap and begging for charity as he dances down the road like a madman. For shame.’ He must have had a pang of conscience then. ‘Did we do this to him?’
‘No,’ said Will firmly. ‘He did it to himself.’
They were silent for a moment then while they contemplated the folly of Kempe’s endeavour and how desperate he must have been to even attempt it.
‘Well, he is still far from being the biggest fool in England,’ Richard said, with the air of a man who has learned some new intelligence. ‘Or should I say Ireland?’
‘You talk of Essex?’ asked Will.
‘I was at court,’ he said sheepishly and they both knew this must have been due to some liaison or other he had engineered in the aftermath of his impressive performance as Henry V. What lady had desired his presence there would remain a mystery and Will had the good sense not to ask.
‘And what is the latest news of the queen’s favourite?’ asked Cuthbert. When Richard told them, they could scarcely believe it.
You had to wonder about the sheer folly of the Earl of Essex or was it his vanity that compelled him to go against the queen’s wishes time and time again? Perhaps Cecil had been right all along. Ireland might indeed prove to be his undoing. He had been specifically ordered to remain there, but his first thought on receiving her letter had not been to obey his monarch. Instead, he must have worried that his absence from court might give others, namely Sir Robert Cecil, free rein to paint unflattering portraits, of himself and his conduct during the Irish campaign, to Her Majesty. He was right about that, of course, but still should never have considered abandoning his command. This he did, however, sailing to England and leaving his army behind.
Realising his best, or perhaps only, chance to regain favour with the queen was to see her in person, and fearing he might be prevented from doing so by Robert Cecil, Essex rode hard to Nonsuch Palace in Surrey, where she was enjoying a visit. Upon arriving there, he burst in on the queen in her bedchamber, to her general shock and alarm, since she wasn’t even dressed. Was he perhaps there to take her prisoner and usurp the throne? She had no way of knowing at this point but remained calm and humoured Essex, hearing him out, until she could delicately ask him to leave her chambers so she could finish dressing and apply her wig and make-up.
Later that day, she met with the earl again and ensured she had guards with her. This time, the queen was far less forgiving of his follies in Ireland and accused him of making a dishonourable peace, with a devil whose word could not be trusted. She then called Essex an unruly beast and confined him to his rooms, while calling for the Privy Council to meet immediately and determine his fate.
Will later learned that Essex was interrogated by the council for five hours. To reach a judgement against him, however, took only fifteen minutes. They unanimously decided he had deserted his post in Ireland and concluded a treaty with the rebel O’Neill beforehand that was both unlawful and unpardonable. It was hard to imagine how even Essex could avoid his downfall now.
* * *
Will arrived at court expecting to find Cecil exultant. The Privy Council verdict must surely lead to the fall of the Earl of Essex. Was he now branded traitor, imprisoned in the tower, possibly being tortured by one of Cecil’s inquisitors, while preparing himself for the block? All of this seemed likely.
Instead, Cecil informed Will that Essex was merely confined to his house. ‘His house, mark you! Not the Tower, where I would have housed him, in chains. And do you think he will stay in this house? He will not! He was ordered to stay in Ireland but would not, and then he had a whole country to roam. Do you think he will stay in one building when he thinks all of London still loves him? Not when he can step out of his door expecting every man he sees to greet him as the saviour of England. All Her Majesty has done is take the monopoly on sweet wines away from him, so he has little income and large debts that cannot be cleared. I worry that could make him desperate. The most dangerous rat is a cornered one.’ Will was shocked by the queen’s leniency, even now.
‘Essex will drum up a rebellion, but Her Majesty cannot see this. You cannot imprison a man in his own home if there are no guards and he alone holds the key. I’ll have my men watch it, but he will do as he pleases, and I know the queen well; if I inform her he has quit the place to walk among the people, she will invent some excuse for it. She has already softened her view of the treaty he made with O’Neill, saying for all to hear that great good has come by it. What will it take for her to finally destroy the man? Will she wait until he has a knife at her throat, will she watch as he has me dragged to the block in front of her? When will she finally realise what a monster her endless indulgences has given birth to?’ He banged his fist against the table then. ‘Confine him to his home? There isn’t a house in England large enough to accommodate that man’s vanity!’
‘What then will you do?’
‘There is nothing I can do, for now,’ Cecil concluded gloomily. ‘Except wait for him to strike, and strike he will.’
Chapter Forty-Two
‘Ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.’
—Henry VI Part II
Cecil was proved right about one thing. There was no way that Essex would voluntarily stay under house arrest. Proof of his breaking the terms of his luxurious imprisonment at Essex House was obtained from the unlikely figure of Cuthbert Burbage, who met Will and his brother as they arrived for rehearsals and summoned them both to an audience with him in one of the Globe’s galleries, while the rest of the company began their work upon the stage.
‘Gentlemen, I have this very morning secured our futures,’ Cuthbert told them, ‘thanks to a visit from the Earl of Essex. Not from his man, mark you, nor his squire or his steward of matters domestical, but he, himself, the very same and none other.’
‘He came alone?’ asked Richard.
‘Not alone. Obviously, members of his retinue were in attendance, but it was the earl who addressed me in person, and I concluded the matter with him.’
‘The Earl of Essex came here?’ Will enquired, astonished that he came at all, while under house arrest, but then immediately chiding himself for always underestimating the man’s arrogance.
‘He did.’
‘And what is this business you concluded with him?’ asked his brother.
‘There is to be a performance of a play in front of an audience of privately invited gentlefolk, with no groundlings admitted. It will be gentles all.’
‘When?’ asked Richard, for he was eager to know how long he had to prepare for his role.
‘Tonight, in fact.’
‘Tonight?’ Richard’s voice went higher in alarm. ‘Which play must I recall every damned word of from just a day’s worth of rehearsals?’
Cuthbert waved away his objections. ‘You have played the role before and will again, but this time for a sum that befits the performance, and it is only words.’ He was dismissive. ‘If you forget them, just make some up to fill in the gaps.’ He turned to Will then. ‘Apologies, Will, I know you think it’s the words that count, but I know the groundlings mostly just want to hear my brother’s voice whate’er he says.’
‘For once, it is not the precise words I am worried about,’ Will said.
‘Nor me,’ said Cuthbert brightly. ‘For there will be no more worries for a while, when you learn the fee I have wrestled from the earl, using protestations of the need for more time to prepare, new costumes sewn in a hurry and other devices that must be bought to be used in tonight’s stagecraft. I listed all and he did not blanch at the cost, the most part of which I did of course invent. He will pay us…’ He looked expectantly at them both. ‘How much do you think?’
‘I know not,’ said Will.
‘Then guess.’
‘I cannot.’ Will’s mind was occupied by more serious concerns than the fee, which would hardly matter if they never got to spend it. Cuthbert had just taken patronage from the most dangerous man in England.
Cuthbert turned to his brother. ‘Then you guess, Richard. Pluck a number from the air, then think it too lowly, so double it, then remember this is a private performance like the ones you do before Her Majesty, then recall again that this is for the Earl of Essex, no man closer to her and one who carries a full purse that bulges at its seams. Now guess.’
‘I know not either. Just tell us.’
‘Guess!’ he demanded. ‘Guess, Richard, I beseech you, for I know you will never.’
‘A hundred pounds then,’ he snapped.
‘No! Not a hundred. Good God, man, he didn’t ask to buy the theatre! No, be reasonable. If I’d asked him for that, he’d have had me whipped. But I did ring forty shillings from him. Forty! For one performance. Oh, the lord is merciful to those who know how to help themselves.’
‘Why would he give you so much?’ asked Will.
‘He is a generous lord.’
