The Fair Maid of Bohemia nb-9

by Edward Marston

  When they entered through the gates, they were carried along by the stream of heavily laden carts and riders towing pack-horses. Over the general clamour, they could hear music being played ahead of them. Sporadic applause and laughter broke out. It was only when they reached the main square and saw it awash with stalls that they realised how timely their arrival was. Frankfurt was holding one of its bi-annual fairs. Merchants had poured in from all parts of Europe to buy, sell or borrow from the city’s banks. Acrobats, jugglers, musicians and other itinerant entertainers were offering their wares.

  Lawrence Firethorn took one look at the seething mass of people and responded in the true spirit of an actor. Arms outstretched, he stood up in the wagon and shouted with joy.

  ‘An audience!’

  The huge influx of visitors meant that accommodation was difficult to find. The inn recommended by Balthasar Davey was already full and they had to trawl through the city for an hour before they finally found somewhere to lay their heads. As soon as the company was safely bestowed at the Golden Lion, its book-holder was sent off to the city hall to see if their written request for permission to perform in Frankfurt had been accepted by the Burgomaster and his Council. Since a long walk through crowded streets exposed him to possible danger, Nicholas asked Owen Elias to act as a trailing bodyguard. The Welshman kept ten or fifteen yards behind him but his strong arm was not needed in his friend’s defence.

  The city hall was another tall, arresting building of Gothic proportions and extravagance. Leaving Elias to keep watch at the doorway, Nicholas went in alone. Everyone had mocked the obsequious letter from the Burgomaster of Cologne, but at least it had prepared their way. Westfield’s Men would not arrive in Frankfurt as unexpected strangers. Nicholas had every reason to expect a courteous welcome from the city. As he stepped into the hallway, he got something infinitely better.

  ‘Nick!’

  Anne Hendrik leaped up from the bench and ran to fling herself into his arms. His amazement gave way to delight and he hugged her to him.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘Waiting for you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think?’

  She kissed him on the cheek, then led him across to the bench. Holding her hands, he sank down beside her. They were so excited at seeing each other again that they gabbled simultaneously. Nicholas held up a palm to silence her, then took a deep breath before speaking.

  ‘I thought that you were in Amsterdam,’ he said.

  ‘I was, Nick.’

  ‘How did you find your father-in-law?’

  ‘I arrived too late,’ she said with a rueful shake of her head. ‘He died a week earlier. I missed the funeral by a few days. But it was not a wasted journey,’ she continued with a brave smile. ‘The family were very pleased to see me and I was able to pay my respects beside his grave. Jacob could have expected no more of me. I loved his father as my own.’

  ‘It must have been a grievous shock to you.’

  ‘It was, Nick. To go all that way and find him gone. I was desolate. The thought of a long, lonely journey back home was too much for me. So I gave way to impulse and came here.’

  ‘Why to Frankfurt?’

  ‘Because you told me that Westfield’s Men would visit the city after you had been to Cologne. I hoped that I might get here in time to meet up with you. I have been sitting on this bench for two whole days.’

  ‘Why come to the city hall?’

  ‘I knew that it was the first place you would visit on your arrival. The company cannot perform without a licence from the Burgomaster and his Council.’ She squeezed his hands and gave a smile. ‘So here I am, Nick.’

  ‘I could not be more delighted to see you,’ he said with a grin of disbelief. ‘But how did you get to Frankfurt? How did you travel all the way here from Amsterdam?’

  ‘The Hendrik family knew some Dutch merchants who were coming to the fair here to sell their goods. They agreed to take me along as their passenger.’

  ‘How was the journey?’

  ‘Long and uncomfortable.’

  He was touched. ‘You endured all that just to see me?’

  ‘To be with you.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I did not come here to exchange a brief greeting,’ she explained. ‘When I fell to thinking about it, I decided that you needed me. A group of English actors, roaming a country whose language they do not speak, is in want of an interpreter. I flatter myself that I might fill that office.’

  ‘You mean that you will stay with us for a while?’ he said in surprise. ‘Lodge with us here in Frankfurt?’

  ‘And ride on to Bohemia.’

  ‘Bohemia!’

  ‘If you will have me.’

  ‘Nothing would please me more, Anne. This is manna from heaven. I never dared to expect such a miracle.’

  ‘Would the company accept my help?’

  ‘They will be overjoyed by your offer.’

  ‘Good. It is settled.’

  ‘But what about England? What about your business?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘How will Preben fare while you are away?’

  ‘Exceeding well,’ she said. ‘He will fill my place with ease. I sent a letter from Amsterdam to explain that I might be out of the country longer than I planned. Preben will understand. I have no worries on that score.’ She ran a hand through his beard. ‘The truth is, I could not bear to be parted from you for that length of time.’

  ‘Nor I from you.’

  ‘Then you approve of my idea?’

  ‘I revel in it. You have lifted a burden from my heart.’

  ‘You are not the only person I wanted to see,’ she teased. ‘I missed Lawrence Firethorn as well. And Barnaby. And dear Edmund, of course. James Ingram, too. The other person I am eager to meet again is Adrian Smallwood. I have not forgotten how he piloted us through that terrible storm.’ She saw his face darken. ‘What is wrong, Nick?’

  ‘We suffered a dreadful loss in Flushing,’ he said.

  ‘Adrian?’

  ‘He is no longer with us, Anne.’

  ‘I cannot believe that he left the company.’

  ‘It was not of his own free will.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was murdered.’

  Anne’s jaw dropped and she gave an involuntary shiver. He put a steadying arm around her as she tried to assimilate the horror of what she had just been told.

  ‘Adrian murdered?’ she whispered. ‘By whom?’

  ‘That remains a mystery,’ he confessed. ‘But let me give you the full details. It is only fair that you should know how we stand. When you do, you may have second thoughts about travelling with a company that is under such severe threat.’

  ***

  Westfield’s Men were not merely welcomed in Frankfurt, they were feted. Their request to play in the city-sent on their behalf by the obliging Burgomaster of Cologne-was unanimously approved by the Council, one of whom, a wealthy mercer, had visited England the previous summer and actually seen the company perform at the Queen’s Head. When his colleagues heard him singing the praises of Westfield’s Men, they wanted the actors to stay for ten days, but that was not possible if they were to reach Prague by the stipulated date. It was agreed that they would give performances on three successive afternoons before continuing on their way.

  Anne Hendrik’s appearance on the scene was viewed as a boon by most of the company. However, not every voice was raised in her favour. Barnaby Gill made sure that Nicholas was out of earshot before he gave vent to his complaint.

  ‘We do not want her meddling in our affairs,’ he said.

  ‘Anne is not a meddler,’ asserted Firethorn.

  ‘She is a woman. That says all.’

  ‘She is a lady, Barnaby. Though I do not expect you to know the difference. A gracious lady whom we all respect.’

  ‘That is so,’ agreed Hoode.

  ‘Anne speaks German
like a native of the country, and that is more than any of us can boast. She is a godsend to us.’

  ‘Speak for yourself, Lawrence,’ said Gill.

  ‘I speak for my whole company.’

  It was the morning after their arrival and the three sharers were watching the makeshift stage being erected in a corner of the square under the supervision of Nicholas Bracewell. Trestles had been provided by order of the Council, along with the poles and material necessary for screening off the temporary theatre. Accustomed to public performance in the open air, the actors were not troubled by the constant din all around them. If they could out-shout the multiple bells of London, they could cope with the tumult of the Frankfurt fair. Anne Hendrik was also surveying the preparations. Gill let his jaundiced eye fall on her.

  ‘There is no place in the theatre for a woman,’ he said.

  ‘A lady,’ corrected Firethorn. ‘A lady.’

  ‘Woman, lady, widow or maid. They are all anathema.’

  ‘Not to any man with red blood in his veins.’

  ‘I came into the profession to escape womankind.’

  ‘You came in search of Clement Islip and his kind,’ said Firethorn scornfully. ‘Pretty boys with a pair of bewitching buttocks. That is all a theatre company means to you.’

  Gill fumed. ‘I came to exercise my art,’ he said.

  ‘Corrupting innocent youths.’

  ‘Mistress Hendrik will hinder our work!’

  ‘That is not true, Barnaby,’ said Hoode reasonably. ‘Anne’s presence will curb some of the bawdier talk and that is all to the good. Obscenities are too readily exchanged when drink is taken. I am with Lawrence here. Anne will be a great benefit to us in a number of ways.’

  ‘Name me one,’ challenged Gill.

  ‘Dignity. She will lend us some dignity.’

  ‘There is no gainsaying that,’ added Firethorn.

  A full rehearsal of Love and Fortune was not deemed necessary. It was fresh in their minds from Cologne and was a proven success in front of a German audience. Firethorn contented himself with making the company walk through the piece in order to get used to the feel of the stage and to assess the conditions in which they would perform. A large booth had been commandeered for use as the tiring-house. Beside it was a smaller tent in which scenic devices and properties could be kept.

  Nicholas suggested an improvement which Firethorn readily embraced. Music was to be played between each of the five acts of the play to enable costumes and scenery to be changed, and to allow the audience time to absorb what they had just seen. The action of the play would be slowed but this was outweighed by the gains. Even without Adrian Smallwood, the company had four actor-musicians, and the quartet were pleased to be featured much more in the revival of Love and Fortune.

  Chairs and benches were set out on raised platforms down at the rear of the auditorium. Complimentary seats were offered to the Burgomaster and his Council, but others paid four albus to watch the play from a sitting position. Standees were charged half that price. The day’s takings would be subject to a ten per-cent city tax but that did not alarm Westfield’s Men. When they saw the best part of a thousand people crowding into their theatre, they knew that they would make a tidy profit out of two hours’ strutting on a stage.

  Minutes before the performance was due to begin, Firethorn spoke to his company like a general addressing his troops on the eve of a decisive battle.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he declared, ‘it is time to show a German audience the true worth of English actors. We delighted with this play in Cologne but we must go beyond delight today. We must woo, we must ensnare, we must excite, we must captivate. Frankfurt has never seen players of our quality before. Let us scorch vivid memories in their minds and leave them gasping in astonishment. Remember, friends,’ he said, wagging a finger, ‘that we have two more performances to give here. If we distinguish ourselves today, we shall have even more people coming to see us tomorrow and the day after. Think of England, think of reputation.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Think of money!’

  He had them straining to get out on the stage.

  Anne Hendrik sat near the back and watched it all with fascination. She had seen the play more than once at the Queen’s Head, but this version was very different. It was played at a more measured pace and included additional songs and dances. Most of the wit and word-play was lost on the audience but they were entranced by the visual aspects of the production. Musical interludes allowed them time to discuss the plot before new twists were introduced to it. Moments of crude farce sent them into hysterics. Anne found herself studying the audience more closely than the play.

  Frankfurt cheered the performance to the echo and all but drowned out the rival hullabaloo of the fair. The Burgomaster was thrilled by what he had seen and insisted on meeting the entire company. Since he spoke no English at all, Anne came into her own as an interpreter. Enthusiastic in his praise of everyone, the Burgomaster was especially taken by Barnaby Gill’s brilliant mimes. He talked excitedly to the clown for five minutes.

  ‘What on earth is the fool saying?’ asked Gill.

  ‘He says that you were splendid,’ translated Anne. ‘He and his wife have never laughed so much in their life.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Gill, basking in the commendation. ‘It is good to know that the city is run by a man of such discernment. What else did he say about me? I want to hear every word.’

  Anne paraphrased freely and he lapped up the flattery. Nicholas looked on with amusement. She was already proving her value to the company. Even Gill was coming to appreciate that. Firethorn could not resist a gibe at the clown.

  ‘Who said that a lady had no place in the theatre?’

  ‘I did,’ affirmed Gill. ‘And I hold to that view.’

  ‘After all that Anne has just done for us?’

  ‘Drama is the domain of men.’

  ‘Translate that into German.’

  Gill conceded a unique smile of self-deprecation.

  ‘Even I have my limitations,’ he said.

  ***

  Three days in Frankfurt helped to erase ugly memories of Flushing and uneasy recollections of The Corrupt Bargain in Cologne. Westfield’s Men could do no wrong. Marriage and Mischief won them countless new friends at their second performance and Cupid’s Folly extended their fame even further on the final afternoon. As they returned to the Golden Lion to celebrate their achievements, they were in a buoyant mood.

  ‘I begin to love this country,’ said Owen Elias.

  ‘It is growing on me as well,’ agreed James Ingram.

  ‘I still do not like the beer,’ said George Dart timidly. ‘It is too strong for my stomach.’ His face brightened. ‘But I like the sausages. They are wonderful. Wunderbar!’

  ‘You are not the only person to like them, George,’ said Elias. ‘Do you know what a German’s idea of happiness is?’

  ‘No, Owen.’

  ‘Lange Würste, Kurz Predigen.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘Long sausages, short sermons.’

  ‘Food before faith,’ observed Ingram. ‘They’re a practical people, the Germans.’

  ‘Their women have a similar motto,’ said Elias.

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘A long sausage, twice a night.’

  Dart was puzzled. ‘The women eat sausages at night?’

  ‘If their menfolk are lucky!’

  The jest produced ribald laughter from some of the others but its meaning was way beyond Dart. He turned his attention to the monster sausage before him. As he popped the end into his mouth, his fellows gave him a mocking cheer. None the wiser, he chewed away contentedly.

  Nicholas was at a table with Firethorn, Hoode and Anne Hendrik. While the actors were toasting their success on the stage, the book-holder was reflecting on the financial benefits of their visit. Part of his job was to collect, count and look after all the money paid for admission to the performances. In addition to what the gatherers had taken, there
was a generous donation from the City Council. Three days in Frankfurt had brought in as much as three weeks at the Queen’s Head. It made Firethorn think fondly of home once more.

  ‘Margery must share in this good fortune,’ he said. ‘I must find a way to send money back to her in Shoreditch.’

  ‘She will surely be grateful,’ said Anne.

  ‘There will be others of the same mind,’ added Nicholas. ‘They have wives and families as well.’

  ‘So much money in such a short time!’ said Firethorn, rubbing his palms together. ‘Germany has enriched us.’

  ‘And ennobled us,’ Hoode pointed out. ‘We came here as threadbare players and they treat us like minor aristocrats. In England, we are reviled as shiftless actors. Here, we are gentlemen of a company.’

  ‘It is no more than we deserve, Edmund. Wait until we get to Bohemia. The Emperor will probably give us knighthoods.’

  Evening soon merged with night and the atmosphere at the inn grew steadily rowdier. Westfield’s Men were not the only roisterers. Other travellers were staying there and the Golden Lion also had its regular customers from the locality. It was only a matter of time before the drinking songs began in lusty German. Anne decided that it was time to retire to bed. They were leaving at dawn next morning and she needed her sleep. Nicholas escorted her away from the revelry before it took on an even more boisterous note. After taking a fond farewell outside her bedchamber, he urged her to lock her door and open it to nobody. Anne gave a wan smile.

  ‘I would feel safer if you were with me,’ she said.

  ‘It is where I would love to be, Anne, but…’ He glanced downstairs. ‘It is awkward. I have other duties.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘They are envious enough of me, as it is.’

  She nodded. What they could easily do in the privacy of her house became trickier when he was with the whole company. Nicholas did not want to expose Anne to lewd gossip or himself to the knowing looks of his colleagues. Discretion was the first priority.

  ‘There will be time,’ he promised. ‘One day.’

  ‘I will wait.’