The Fair Maid of Bohemia

by Edward Marston

‘You have several other appointments today.’

  ‘Cancel them.’

  ‘We must not keep doing that.’

  ‘Postpone them instead. I am not ready for them.’

  ‘When will you be ready?’

  ‘You will be told.’

  The Chamberlain pursed his lips in annoyance but made no comment. He was about to move away when he remembered something else he had to report.

  ‘Doctor Talbot Royden has been arrested.’

  Rudolph blinked. ‘On whose orders?’

  ‘Yours.’

  ‘Why did I have him arrested?’

  ‘He has failed yet again.’

  ‘But he promised me that he would succeed this time.’

  ‘He did not.’

  ‘This is intolerable!’ said Rudolph, rising to his feet. ‘I need men around me who can keep their word. I want a Court that is the envy of the civilised world. I demand success and achievement in every branch of the sciences and the arts. Has Doctor Talbot Royden been told that?’

  ‘Many times.’

  ‘Send him to the dungeons.’

  ‘He is already under lock and key.’

  ‘What further punishment should I inflict upon him?’

  ‘That is up to you, your Imperial Highness.’

  Rudolph sat down on his throne to consider the question. His anger slowly ebbed and it gave way to a sudden outburst of manic laughter. The Chamberlain edged away from him. Rudolph clapped his hands together with glee.

  ‘I know what I will do for the good doctor!’ he said.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Send him a basket of fruit.’

  The Chamberlain was mystified. ‘Fruit? A basket of fruit?’

  ‘The perfect gift,’ insisted the other before turning to the artist and translating his edict into fluent Italian. ‘I am sending my prisoner a basket of fruit.’

  ‘Fruit?’ said the other with a giggle.

  ‘From the Emperor!’

  As the two of them went off into another peal of wild and inexplicable laughter, the Chamberlain made a dignified exit.

  ***

  The journey to Frankfurt took two days longer than they had anticipated. When they left the Rhine Valley and headed east, they came up against topographical problems of all kinds. Hills, mountains, woodland and waterways slowed them down, and the appalling condition of the roads was another delaying factor. One of the wagons lost a wheel when it hit a boulder at speed and precious hours were taken up by the repair.

  Westfield’s Men soldiered on bravely and Firethorn kept up their spirits by leading rehearsals of plays from their repertoire. By common consent, The Corrupt Bargain had been eliminated from the list they would offer to their audiences. Robbed of one of his plays, Edmund Hoode was determined to make amends with another. He worked conscientiously on The Fair Maid of Bohemia, sitting beside Nicholas Bracewell so that he could profit from the book-holder’s advice. It was not the first time a play had been written on the hoof. During a tour to the West Country, the two friends had collaborated on ideas which eventually grew into The Merchant of Calais. Hoode was keen to revive that fertile partnership.

  ‘Barnaby is calling for an extra song,’ he said.

  ‘He already has enough,’ argued Nicholas. ‘The play can carry two more songs but they should be given to Owen and to Dick Honeydew.’

  ‘That was my feeling as well.’

  ‘It will lend more variety to the singing.’

  ‘That was the joy of Adrian’s voice,’ observed Hoode sadly. ‘It was such a welcome contrast. This play cries out for an actor like Adrian Smallwood.’

  ‘I know. But you have made good progress, Edmund.’

  ‘Thanks to you.’

  ‘All that I have done is to make a few suggestions.’

  ‘You fired my imagination, Nick. Whenever I faltered, I took fresh inspiration from her.’

  ‘Her?’

  ‘Sophia Magdalena. The fair maid who arranged for us to be invited to Bohemia. The least I can offer her by way of thanks is a play in her honour. It is an expression of my deep and lasting devotion to her.’

  ‘But you only saw her that once.’

  ‘It was enough.’

  ‘She struck a chord with the whole company.’

  ‘You, too, will fall in love with her, Nick.’

  ‘I am already spoken for,’ said the other softly. ‘You pursue your fair maid of Bohemia and I will hold fast to my fine lady of Bankside.’

  ‘It may be a long while before you are together again.’

  ‘We are resigned to that.’

  ‘Absence serves to whet the appetite.’

  ‘True.’ He flicked the reins to goad the horses into a trot. ‘Tell me more about the play. What other changes have you made to it?’

  Hoode needed no more encouragement. He talked at length and with enthusiasm about the heroine’s translation from Wapping to Bohemia. Nicholas was pleased to hear that some of his own ideas had been incorporated and developed. It was evident that, by the time they reached Prague, the revisions would be complete and the play fit for rehearsal. After the harrowing experience at the Palace in Cologne, the playwright was in sore need of a triumph to restore his morale.

  Absorbed by what he heard, Nicholas did not lose sight of caution. He knew that they were being followed. Ever since they left Cologne, he sensed that they were being trailed even though he never laid eyes on the man in their wake. When he saw a copse ahead, he decided to take a more positive step. Handing the reins to Hoode, he waited until the wagon merged with the overhanging branches, then jumped to the ground. The others assumed that he was going to relieve himself and a few good-natured jeers followed him behind a tree.

  Secure in his hiding-place, Nicholas waited for ten minutes or so but no following horseman came by. When he stepped out into the road, all that he could see behind them were a few peasants travelling on foot. The wagons had halted on the other side of the copse for him. As Nicholas hurried after them, he decided that the man was either too clever to be caught in the trap or had somehow got ahead of them again. They could not afford to lower their guard for a second.

  He was still there.

  ***

  The Taunus offered a stern challenge and slowed them down even more. Wrapped in thick forests, it rose to a greater height than any of the other Rhineland Schist Massifs, and they had to struggle up mountain tracks and through narrow passes. At one point, the road was so steep that the passengers had to leap off the wagons and help to push them from behind. They were grateful when they met the downward gradient. Their efforts were eventually rewarded with a first sighting of their next destination.

  Frankfurt was another beautiful city, steeped in tradition and occupying a strategic point on a major river. For over seven centuries, Germany had elected its rulers there and emperors were now crowned in its majestic cathedral before being honoured at a coronation banquet in the palatial Kaisersaal. Frankfurt had developed into one of the most thriving commercial centres in Europe. So closely interwoven had its past been with the great events in German history that it could lay claim to being an unofficial capital.

  Impressed by the size and the location of the city, the visitors could see from a distance the soaring cathedral tower, ornamented in the Gothic style and topped by a dome and lantern-tower. It reached up to heaven with a multitude of churches and tall buildings scrabbling after it. Westfield’s Men were by no means the only travellers on the road. The closer they got to Frankfurt, the thicker became the traffic. They were soon part of sizeable crowd converging on the city.

  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 be
ing 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.