“What did the crowner’s man say?”
“He didn’t say nothing. Just nodded and walked away. That was just before he arrested Master Glover for that murder, like.”
For some reason none of that seemed to stir the fellow’s curiosity in the slightest.
Some people, Joliffe thought, have more luck with their curiosity than others did.
Tisbe butted her head at his shoulder half the way back to town, as if telling him she had had enough of those other horses and was glad to see him. At the barn the cart was waiting fully loaded, with nothing to do but put her in her harness, but neither Piers nor Basset was there, only Rose and Ellis, looking not so easy as they had when Joliffe had left, and he asked sharply, “What is it? Where are Basset and Piers?”
“Piers is gone to buy meat pies for us,” Rose said. “After you’d gone, we decided not to wait but leave as soon as you came back and eat as we go.”
“Basset . . .” Ellis started, but Piers appeared from behind Tisbe, his arms wrapped around the obviously very full canvas bag the players carried food in when they traveled.
“How much did you buy, in St. Lawrence’s name?” exclaimed Ellis. “Where’s my money? You were supposed to have some left over!”
“The pies looked so good, I bought some for supper, too, and there was someone selling spice cakes next to the pieman, so I bought those, too,” Piers said cheerily. “I spent all the money.”
“I’ll bet if I check your purse I’ll find a few coins,” Ellis muttered threateningly.
“I’ll bet their mine, if you do!” Piers answered, giving the bag over to his mother. He looked around. “Where’s Grandfather?”
“Here,” Basset said, coming into the barn.
With his back to the sunlight his face was too shadowed to read, nor was the feeling in his voice any clearer. Wherever he had been, something had happened and Joliffe braced himself as Basset came toward them, saying, “Joliffe. Piers. You’re both back. Good.” And to all of them, “It was Lord Lovell who wanted to see me. He and his lady are leaving today, too. He says the Penteneys have trouble enough now without guests on hand.”
“Why did he want to see you?” Rose said, her worry plain.
“For this.” Basset was to them now. He held out a several-times folded paper to her. Still watching her father’s face, trying to read it, she took the paper. As she began to unfold it, Joliffe realized it was not paper but parchment. A document of some kind then, with the writing on it done in a fine hand, he could see when she had it open, and a seal attached to the bottom by a ribbon.
But Basset could not wait while she read it out to them or Ellis and Joliffe read it for themselves over her shoulders. Giving way to suddenly open pleasure, he exclaimed in triumph. “Lord Lovell wants us to be his players. He’s offered to be our patron. He said Master Penteney had suggested it. This patent . . .” He slapped a triumphant hand on the parchment. “. . . makes it real. We’re Lord Lovell’s players! With forty shillings a year certain money from him, so long as we show up to perform at Christmastide and some other time of his choosing, wherever he happens to be. To start with, he’d like us with him at Michaelmas at Minster Lovell this year. We’re made!” Basset cried, and grabbed Rose to him in a massive hug while Ellis caught Piers into wild, swinging dance and Joliffe laughed aloud.
Lord Lovell’s players! No longer lordless. No longer unprotected against anyone who might take against them for whatever slight reason or no reason at all. Still on the road from year’s end to year’s end, surely, but . . . Lord Lovell’s players!
They left soon thereafter, Joliffe leading Tisbe, Basset walking with Ellis in excited talk on the cart’s far side, Rose following behind, hand-in-hand with Piers, out of the Penteney gateway, headed for the eastward road, for Aylesbury and places beyond, the world looking a far brighter place than it had looked for a while and a long while past.
Author’s Note
Through Joliffe, this book links with the Dame Frevisse series of mysteries, taking place in the summer after The Servant’s Tale.
Lollards were an ongoing trouble in England through the 1400s, though never so dangerous again as in their armed revolt of 1431, talked of in this story. The government and people of the time, lacking the comfort of hindsight, had very reasonable fears against what more trouble the rebellious heretics might cause. The heretics Peter Payne and John Penning existed and were in Bohemia at the time of this story, but the Penteney family is fictional.
As for the use of pamphlets for propaganda purposes before the beginning of printing, contemporary mention is specifically made of Lollard pamphlets circulating at the time of the revolt in 1431. In other words, pamphlets are period.
So are Dr. Thomas Gascoigne’s arguments against players, though in this case they’re drawn, ironically enough, from a Lollard treatise. Dr. Gascoigne is likewise real and quite possibly as unpleasant as he’s shown here, judging by his extent work. John Thamys, too, existed, and St. Edmund Hall still does, now fully an Oxford college in its own right.
My particular thanks go to scholars Dr. Alexandra Johnston and Dr. Chester Scoville of the University of Toronto for their very necessary help with my questions about medieval theater in Oxford. One of the great helps to me in “seeing” medieval theater has been the volumes of the ongoing Records of Early English Drama—REED—project at the University of Toronto.
My general thanks and very great appreciation go to all the people with whom I’ve worked, both onstage and off, over many years in many plays, indoors and out. I couldn’t have put on a single play in this book without them.
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