Master Skylark: A Story of Shakspere's Time Read online

  CHAPTER III

  THE LAST STRAW

  Little John Summer had a new horn-book that cost a silver penny. Thehandle was carven and the horn was clear as honey. The other little boysstood round about in speechless envy, or murmured their A B C's and "babe bi's" along the chapel steps. The lower-form boys were playingleap-frog past the almshouse, and Geoffrey Gosse and the vicar's sonwere in the public gravel-pit, throwing stones at the robins in theGreat House elms across the lane.

  Some few dull fellows sat upon the steps behind the school-house,anxiously poring over their books. But the larger boys of the FableClass stood in an excited group beneath the shadow of the overhangingsecond story of the grammar-school, talking all at once, each louderthan the other, until the noise was deafening.

  "Oh, Nick, such goings on!" called Robin Getley, whose father was aburgess, as Nick Attwood came slowly up the street, saying his sentencesfor the day over and over to himself in hopeless desperation, having hadno time to learn them at home. "Stratford Council has had a quarrel,and there's to be no stage-play after all."

  "What?" cried Nick, in amazement. "No stage-play? And why not?"

  "Why," said Robin, "it was just this way--my father told me of it. SirThomas Lucy, High Sheriff of Worcester, y' know, rode in from Charlcoteyesternoon, and with him Sir Edward Greville of Milcote. So theburgesses made a feast for them at the Swan Inn. Sir Thomas fetched afine, fat buck, and the town stood good for ninepence wine and twopencebread, and broached a keg of sturgeon. And when they were all mettogether there, eating, and drinking, and making merry--what? Why, incame my Lord Admiral's players from London town, ruffling it like highdukes, and not caring two pops for Sir Thomas, or Sir Edward, or forStratford burgesses all in a heap; but sat them down at the tablestraightway, and called for ale, as if they owned the place; and notbeing served as soon as they desired, they laid hands upon Sir Thomas'sserver as he came in from the buttery with his tray full, and took bothmeat and drink."

  "What?" cried Nick.

  "As sure as shooting, they did!" said Robin; "and when Sir Thomas'sgentry yeomen would have seen to it--what? Why, my Lord Admiral'smaster-player clapped his hand to his poniard-hilt, and dared them comeand take it if they could."

  "To Sir Thomas Lucy's men?" exclaimed Nick, aghast.

  "Ay, to their teeth! Sir Edward sprang up then, and said it was a shamefor players to behave so outrageously in Will Shakspere's own home town.And at that Sir Thomas, who, y' know, has always misliked Will, flaredup like a bull at a red rag, and swore that all stage-players berunagate rogues, anyway, and Will Shakspere neither more nor less than adeer-stealing scape-gallows."

  "Surely he did na say that in Stratford Council?" protested Nick.

  "Ay, but he did--that very thing," said Robin; "and when that was out,the master-player sprang upon the table, overturning half the ale, andcried out that Will Shakspere was his very own true friend, and thesweetest fellow in all England, and that whosoever gainsaid it was ahemp-cracking rascal, and that he would prove it upon his back with aquarter-staff whenever and wherever he chose, be he Sir Thomas Lucy, St.George and the Dragon, Guy of Warwick, and the great dun cow, all rolledup in one!"

  "Robin Getley, is this the very truth, or art thou cozening me?"

  "Upon my word, it is the truth," said Robin. "And that's not all. SirEdward cried out 'Fie!' upon the player for a saucy varlet; but thefellow only laughed, and bowed quite low, and said that he took nooffense from Sir Edward for saying that, since it could not honestly bedenied, but that Sir Thomas did not know the truth from a truckle-bed inbroad daylight, and was but the remnant of a gentleman to boot."

  "The bold-faced rogue!"

  "Ay, that he is," nodded Robin; "and for his boldness Sir Thomasstraightway demanded that the High Bailiff refuse the company license toplay in Stratford."

  "Refuse the Lord High Admiral's players?"

  "Marry, no one else. And then Master John Shakspere, wroth at what SirThomas had said of his son Will, vowed that he would send a letter downto London town, and lay the whole coil before the Lord High Admiralhimself. For ever since that he was High Bailiff, the best companies ofEngland had always been bidden to play in Stratford, and it would be anill thing now to refuse the Lord Admiral's company after grantinglicenses to both my Lord Pembroke's and the High Chamberlain's."

  "And so it would," spoke up Walter Roche; "for there are our owntownsmen, Richard and Cuthbert Burbage, who are cousins of mine, andJohn Hemynge and Thomas Greene, besides Will Shakspere and his brotherEdmund, all playing in the Lord Chamberlain's company in London beforethe Queen. It would be a black score against them all with the LordAdmiral--I doubt not he would pay them out."

  "That he would," said Robin, "and so said my father and Alderman HenryWalker, who, y' know, is Will Shakspere's own friend. And some of theburgesses who cared not a rap for that were afeard of offending the LordAdmiral. But Sir Thomas vowed that my Lord Howard was at Cadiz withWalter Raleigh and the young Earl of Sussex, and would by no means hearof it. So Master Bailiff Stubbes, who, 'tis said, doth owe Sir Thomasforty pound, and is therefore under his thumb, forthwith refused thecompany license to play in Stratford guildhall, inn-yard, or common. Andat that the master-player threw his glove into Master Stubbes's face,and called Sir Thomas a stupid old bell-wether, and Stratford burgessessilly sheep for following wherever he chose to jump."

  "And so they be," sneered Hal Saddler.

  "How?" cried Robin, hotly. "My father is a burgess. Dost thou call him asheep, Hal Saddler?"

  "Nay, nay," stammered Hal, hastily; "'twas not thy father I meant."

  "Then hold thy tongue with both hands," said Robin, sharply, "or it willcrack thy pate for thee some of these fine days."

  "But come, Robin," asked Nick, eagerly, "what became of the quarrel?"

  "Well, when the master-player threw his glove into Master Stubbes'sface, the Chief Constable seized him for contempt of Stratford Council,and held him for trial. At that some cried 'Shame!' and some 'Hurrah!'but the rest of the players fled out of town in the night, lest theirbaggage be taken by the law and they be fined."

  "Whither did they go?" asked Nick, both sorry and glad to hear that theywere gone.

  "To Coventry, and left the master-player behind in gaol."

  "Why, they dare na use him so--the Lord Admiral's own man!"

  "Ay, that they don't! Why, hark 'e, Nick! This morning, since SirThomas has gone home, and the burgesses' heads have all cooled down fromthe sack and the clary they were in last night, la! but they are in apretty stew, my father says, for fear that they have given offense tothe Lord Admiral. So they have spoken the master-player softly, andgiven him his freedom out of hand, and a long gold chain to twine abouthis cap, to mend the matter with, beside."

  "Whee-ew!" whistled Nick. "I wish I were a master-player!"

  "Oh, but he will not be pleased, and says he will have his revenge onStratford town if he must needs wait until the end of the world or go tothe Indies after it. And he has had his breakfast served in MasterGeoffrey Inchbold's own room at the Swan, and swears that he will walkthe whole way to Coventry sooner than straddle the horse that theburgesses have sent him to ride."

  "What! Is he at the inn? Why, let's go down and see him."

  "Master Brunswood says that he will birch whoever cometh late," objectedHal Saddler.

  "Birch?" groaned Nick. "Why, he does nothing but birch! A fellow can nasay his '_sum, es, est_' without catching it. And as for getting throughthe 'genitivo' and 'vocativo' without a downright threshing--" Heshrugged his shoulders ruefully as he remembered his unlearned lesson.Everything had gone wrong with him that morning, and the thought of thebirching that he was sure to get was more than he could bear. "I willna stand it any longer--I'll run away!"

  Kit Sedgewick laughed ironically. "And when the skies fall we'll catchsparrows, Nick Attwood," said he. "Whither wilt thou run?"

  Stung by his tone of ridicule, Nick out with the first thing that cameinto his head. "To Coventry, after the stage-players," said he,defiantly.

  The whole crowd gave an incredulous hoot.

  Nick's face flushed. To be crossed at home, to be birched at school, towork all May-day in the tannery vats, and to be laughed at--it wastoo much.

  "Ye think that I will na? Well, I'll show ye! 'Tis only eight miles toWarwick, and hardly more than that beyond--no walk at all; and DicconHaggard, my mother's cousin, lives in Coventry. So out upon your mustyLatin--English is good enough for me this day! There's bluebells blowingin the dingles, and cuckoo-buds no end. And while ye are all grinding atyour old Aesop I shall be roaming over the hills wherever I please."

  As he spoke he thought of the dark, wainscoted walls of the school-roomwith their narrow little windows overhead, of the foul-smelling floorsof the tannery in Southam's lane, and his heart gave a great, rebelliousleap. "Ay," said he, exultantly, "I shall be out where the birds cansing and the grass is green, and I shall see the stage-play, while yewill be mewed up all day long in school, and have nothing but a beggarlymorris and a farthing May-pole on the morrow."

  "Oh, no doubt, no doubt," said Hal Saddler, mockingly "We shall havebut bread and milk, and thou shalt have--a most glorious threshing fromthy father when thou comest home again!"

  That was the last straw to Nick's unhappy heart.

  "'Tis a threshing either way," said he, squaring his shouldersdoggedly. "Father will thresh me if I run away, and Master Brunswoodwill thresh me if I don't. I'll not be birched four times a week formerely tripping on a word, and have nothing to show for it but stripes.If I must take a threshing, I'll have my good day's game out first."

  "But wilt thou truly go to Coventry, Nick?" asked Robin Getley,earnestly, for he liked Nick more than all the rest.

  "Ay, truly, Robi
n--that I will"; and, turning, Nick walked swiftly awaytoward the market-place, never looking back.