Master Skylark: A Story of Shakspere's Time Page 8
CHAPTER VIII
THE ADMIRAL'S COMPANY
The ancient city of Coventry stands upon a little hill, with old St.Michael's steeple and the spire of Holy Trinity church rising above itagainst the sky; and as the master-player and the boy came climbingupward from the south, walls, towers, chimneys, and red-tiled roofs wereturned to gold by the glow of the setting sun.
To Nick it seemed as if a halo overhung the town--a ruddy glory and awonder bright; for here the Grey Friars of the great monastery hadplayed their holy mysteries and miracle-plays for over a hundred years;here the trade-guilds had held their pageants when the friars' day wasdone; here were all the wonders that old men told by winter fires.
People were coming and going through the gates like bees about a hive,and in the distance Nick could hear the sound of many voices, the rushof feet, wheels, and hoofs, and the shrill pipe of music. Here and therewere little knots of country folk making holiday: a father and motherwith a group of rosy children; a lad and his lass, spruce in newfinery, and gay with bits of ribbon--merry groups that were everchanging. Gay banners flapped on tall ash staves. The suburb fields werefilled with booths and tents and stalls and butts for archery. The veryair seemed eager with the eve of holiday.
But what to Nick was breathless wonder was to Carew only a twice-toldtale; so he pushed through the crowded thoroughfares, amid a throng thatmade Nick's head spin round, and came quickly to the Blue Boar Inn.
The court was crowded to the gates with horses, travelers, andserving-men; and here and there and everywhere rushed the busyinnkeeper, with a linen napkin fluttering on his arm, his cap half off,and in his hot hand a pewter flagon, from which the brown ale dripped inspatters on his fat legs as he flew.
"They're here," said Carew, looking shrewdly about; "for there isGregory Goole, my groom, and Stephen Magelt, the tire-man. In with thee,Nicholas."
He put Nick before him with a little air of patronage, and pushed himinto the room.
It was a large, low chamber with heavy beams overhead, hung with leatherjacks and pewter tankards. Around the walls stood rough tables, at whicha medley of guests sat eating, drinking, dicing, playing at cards, andtalking loudly all at once, while the tapster and the cook's knave spedwildly about.
At a great table in the midst of the riot sat the Lord High Admiral'splayers--a score or more loud-swashing gallants, richly clad in ruffsand bands, embroidered shirts, Italian doublets slashed and laced,Venetian hose, gay velvet caps with jeweled bands, and every man aponiard or a rapier at his hip. Nick felt very much like a little brownsparrow in a flock of gaudy Indian birds.
The board was loaded down with meat and drink, and some of the playerswere eating with forks, a new trick from the London court, which Nickhad never seen before. But all the diners looked up when Carew's facewas recognized, and welcomed him with a deafening shout.
He waved his hand for silence.
"Thanks for these kind plaudits, gentle friends," said he, with amocking air; "I have returned."
"Yes; we see that ye have, Gaston," they all shouted, and laughed again.
"Ay," said he, thrusting his hand into his pouch, "ye fled, and left meto be spoiled by the spoiler, but ye see I have left thespoiler spoiled."
Lifting his hand triumphantly, he shook in their faces the golden chainthat the burgesses of Stratford had given him, and then, laying his handupon Nick's shoulder, bowed to them all, and to him with courtly grace,and said: "Be known, be known, all! Gentlemen, my Lord Admiral'sPlayers, Master Nicholas Skylark, the sweetest singer in all the kingdomof England!"
Nick's cheeks flushed hotly, and his eyes fell; for they all staredcuriously, first at him, and then at Carew standing up behind him, andseveral grinned mockingly and winked in a knowing way. He stole a lookat Carew; but the master-player's face was frank and quite unmoved, sothat Nick felt reassured.
"Why, sirs," said Carew, as some began to laugh and to speak to oneanother covertly, "it is no jest. He hath a sweeter voice than CyrilDavy's, the best woman's-voice in all London town. Upon my word, it isthe sweetest voice a body ever heard--outside of heaven and the holyangels!" He lowered his tone and bowed his head a little. "I'll stakemine honour on it!"
"Hast any, Gaston?" called a jeering voice, whereat the whole roomroared.
But Carew cried again in a high voice that would be heard above thenoise: "Now, hark 'e; what I say is so. It is, upon my word, and on theremnant of mine honour! And to-morrow ye shall see, for Master Skylarkis to sing and play with us."
When he had said that, nothing would do but Nick must sit down and eatwith them; so they made a place for him and for Master Carew.
Nick bent his head and said a grace, at which some of them laughed,until Carew shook his head with a stern frown; and before he ate hebowed politely to them all, as his mother had taught him to do. They allbowed mockingly, and hilariously offered him wine, which, when herefused, they pressed upon him, until Carew stopped them, saying that hewould have no more of that. As he spoke he clapped his hand upon hisponiard and scowled blackly. They all laughed, but offered Nick no morewine; instead, they picked him choice morsels, and made a great deal ofhim, until his silly young head was quite turned, and he sat up and gavehimself a few airs--not many, for Stratford was no great place in whichto pick up airs.
When they had eaten they wanted Nick to sing; but again Carewinterposed. "Nay," said he; "he hath just eaten his fill, so he cannotsing. Moreover, he is no jackdaw to screech in such a cage as this. Heshall not sing until to-morrow in the play."
At this some of the leading players who held shares in the venturedemurred, doubting if Nick could sing at all; but--"Hark 'e," saidMaster Carew, shortly, clapping his hand upon his poniard, "I say thathe can. Do ye take me?"
So they said no more; and shortly after he took Nick away, and left themover their tankards, singing uproariously.
The Blue Boar Inn had not a bed to spare, nor had the players kept aplace for Carew; at which he smiled grimly, said he'd not forget it, andtook lodgings for himself and Nick at the Three Tuns in the next street.
Nick spoke indeed of his mother's cousin, with whom he had meant tostay, but the master-player protested warmly; so, little loath, and muchflattered by the attentions of so great a man, Nick gave over the ideaand said no more about it.
When the chamberlain had shown them to their room and they were bothundressed, Nick knelt beside the bed and said a prayer, as he always didat home. Carew watched him curiously. It was quiet there, and the lightdim; Nick was young, and his yellow hair was very curly. Carew couldhear the faint breath murmuring through the boy's lips as he prayed, andwhile he stared at the little white figure his mouth twitched in a queerway. But he tossed his head, and muttered to himself, "What, GastonCarew, turning soft? Nay, nay. I'll do it--on my soul, I will!" rolledinto bed, and was soon fast asleep.
* * * * *
As for Nick, what with the excitement of the day, the dazzling fanciesin his brain, his tired legs, the weird night noises in the town, andstrange, tremendous dreams, he scarce could get to sleep at all; buttoward morning he fell into a refreshing doze, and did not wake untilthe town was loud with May.