Her eyes widened. ‘Are you a player, sir?’
I felt six-feet tall. ‘That I am!’ I said.
She bobbed a curtsy. ‘I’ll deliver your message now.’
As I turned out of the yard entrance, I was nearly run into by a man on horseback.
‘Careful, boy!’ said the rider, as his horse danced to one side. ‘You’ll have me off, frightening my mount like that!’
‘Sorry, sir,’ I said.
He dismounted, pulled off his hat and banged it against the wall. Dust flew everywhere. When he turned I saw his face for the first time.
‘Master Shakespeare!’ I cried.
‘Bless my soul! Billy-Odd-Job!’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We are living with relatives because of the plague and I don’t like it in the country and I saw the play and Master—’
He held up a hand. ‘Whoa! Slow down!’
I began again, explaining that Master Burbage had said I could be in Romeo and Juliet.
He smiled. ‘I am returning from visiting my family in Stratford, and I am as excited as you to be back with the company. You still wish to be a player, Billy?’
‘Oh sir, more than anything in the world,’ I said.
He looked thoughtful. ‘I remember when I was young,’ he said. ‘Your father and I made a pact – a promise to ourselves – that we would always follow our hearts. My heart told me I must be a player, and write plays.’ He laughed. ‘Your father wanted to see the world, and I wanted the world to see me!’
He gathered his horse’s reins and led it towards the stables. I signalled to Hoppy to stay at my heel.
‘I want to be a player so much, sir,’ I said. ‘My father understands. That’s why he lets me help at the Globe. But Mother doesn’t want me there.’
He handed the reins to the grumpy ostler. ‘All things change, Billy,’ he said. ‘There’s a time for everything.’ He put his dusty hat on and clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Now for a jug of ale!’
As he went to the inn door, I called. ‘Two days, Master Shakespeare! I will be back in two days to play my part in Romeo and Juliet!’
He waved. ‘I look forward to your performance, Billy-Odd-Job! And mark what I say – follow your heart and you will be on the stage of the Globe itself one day!’
I felt dizzy with delight. To act at the Globe had always been my dream. If William Shakespeare himself believed it would happen…!
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning was cold, with an icy wind. I sat in bed, huddled in my blanket, with Hoppy snuggled next to me. I thought of Rosa, and what it must be like to be travelling people in such weather. Then I remembered her sick mother.
I wished I could help them. What would they want?
That was easy. They’d want to get on with their journey. What was stopping them? Rosa’s mother being ill.
I jumped up and struggled into my clothes.
Sick people need good food and warmth, Mother always says. I decided to take Rosa’s mother some milk. I bet they never had milk. And cheese. I guessed they lived on berries and scraggy wild rabbits.
I fetched a jug of milk and wrapped a hunk of hard cheese in an old cloth, then set off for the woods with Hoppy.
I had no idea where they were camped, so we went to the place where I’d last seen Gilbert. I called his name softly.
Nothing.
‘Rosa?’ I called.
No answer.
I dared not call any louder for fear someone might hear and tell on them.
Then I remembered the hollow in the yew tree where Gilbert kept the rabbit. I found it with no trouble and put the jug and cheese in there. Then Hoppy and I went home.
When I got there, Goody Wyse was sitting by the fire talking to Mother, who was nursing Susan. The old lady’s sore foot was wrapped in bandages and a strip of leather. She reckons she can cure everyone else, I thought, so why can’t she do something about her foot?
Aunt Meg had her back to me, rolling out pastry, listening to whatever Goody Wyse was blathering about.
The moment Mother saw me, she turned to Goody Wyse and put a finger to her lips.
Women’s talk, I thought, and made for the stairs. Goody Wyse didn’t stop to draw breath and, out of her ramblings, the word ‘players’ jumped at me.
I stopped. ‘What’s that about players?’
Mother put Susan into Aunt Meg’s floury arms and came to hug me.
‘What? I said, pulling away.
‘I’m sorry, Billy, my love,’ she said.
For a heart-stopping moment I thought something had happened to Father, but Mother was not weeping, so the moment passed.
‘Billy, I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘Goody Wyse told us that the players… They’re going back to London.’
I couldn’t understand. ‘Going? Why? They can’t. The playhouses are closed.’ I felt sick.
One day. My big chance was one day away, yet I was to be robbed of it.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
‘The playhouses are opening again,’ Mother told me. ‘The company is packing up already. The word from London is that the plague is officially over.’
Oh, those magical words! ‘The plague is officially over.’
I must have grinned, because Mother shook my shoulder. ‘Billy? Are you all right?’
‘Better than all right, Mother,’ I cried. ‘Don’t you see? If the plague is over, we can go back to London, too! I’ll be in the play there. At the Globe!’
I turned to run upstairs and start packing, but Mother caught my arm.
‘Listen to me!’ she said. ‘Your sister is too ill to travel. You must be patient.’ She put her face in her hands for a moment, then looked up. ‘Believe me, I want nothing more than to be in our own home, but it’s not possible. You have to understand. We’re not going anywhere. Not for a while.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
I couldn’t believe it. One minute my life was almost perfect and the next, everything was wrong.
I needed to see Master Burbage and Master Shakespeare. Maybe they weren’t leaving until after tomorrow, after I’d played my part. Either way, I could tell them I’d be back in London as soon as Susan was better. I wanted their promise that I could still be in a play, on the stage, in front of an audience.
While Aunt Meg took her sewing up to the manor house, and Mother was singing to Susan, I crept out. I left Hoppy behind, because I had to run. I daren’t be on the road after nightfall.
I had a shock when I reached the inn yard and found the company already loading the carts. I asked old John Merry where Master Shakespeare was.
‘Gone, lad,’ he said. ‘Will and some other players rode ahead to get the Globe ready, and Richard is leaving once everything’s loaded. We last few will drive the wagon and carts to London tomorrow at first light.’
I tried to interrupt, but you can’t stop old John once he starts.
‘There’s handbills to print and send out so people will know we’re back, and the costumes that have been boxed up for months, they need airing. The food sellers must be told and—’
I gripped his arm. ‘What about me?’
‘You, lad? What about you?’
Just then Richard Burbage came out, carrying an armful of swords. He dumped them on the end cart as I caught up with him.
‘Master Burbage!’
He turned. ‘Billy-Odd-Job again!’ he said. ‘We could do with your help.’
I walked back to the inn door with him. ‘Can’t you stay,’ I pleaded, ‘just for another day or so?’
He hoisted up a leather bag containing crowns. ‘The faster we get to London, the better,’ he said, handing me the bag. Leaning forward, he said quietly, ‘We’ve been away for so long because of the blasted plague that there’s barely enough money to pay everyone. We get audiences of only a hundred or so in places like this,’ he explained. ‘There’s much more money to be had in London. We can play to nigh on a couple of thousand people in one afternoon
at the Globe.’
I put the leather bag on the cart, tucking it beneath a golden throne. ‘Master Burbage,’ I said, desperately. ‘What about me playing that part in Romeo and Juliet?’
‘Sorry, Billy. It won’t be tomorrow. But it will be one day.’ He laughed. ‘Maybe at the Globe!’
Maybe. If I ever got there. If they did Romeo and Juliet again.
I hurried back to Gate Cottage, hoping to find my sister sitting up, eating pottage, and fit to travel.
I burst in. ‘How is Susan?’
Instead of answering, Mother flew at me. ‘Where have you been? I have worried until I was almost sick!’
I told her I went to say goodbye to the company.
‘Do you not think I have enough to worry about, without you adding to it?’ she demanded.
‘How is my sister?’ I asked.
Mother calmed down. ‘Improving,’ she said, then quickly added, ‘but she is not fit to travel, so don’t ask.’
I tried something different. ‘Perhaps, until Susan is better, you could take me back to London, then return for her. Aunt Meg would look after her and—’
Mother’s jaw dropped, and I caught sight of my aunt and uncle’s shocked faces.
I looked from one to the other. ‘It wouldn’t be for long. You could be back in a few days.’
‘How can you be so selfish?’ Mother demanded. ‘How would you like to be left behind when you were ill?’
I didn’t need to answer. Mother was still ranting.
‘You think only of yourself!’ she said, and turned her back. Then she began to mutter.
‘…London … few days indeed … all about himself … poor Susan…’
She buried her face in her apron. I felt bad then, so I tugged at her arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Truly. I do care about Susan. It’s just that I did so want to be in the play.’ My eyes watered. I blinked hard, but Mother had noticed.
Her face softened. ‘I know, Billy,’ she said. ‘And if you and your father have your way, I’m sure you will one day. But not yet.’
We ate then, and afterwards, as I cleared the table, Aunt Meg said, ‘Billy, did you put an empty jug outside the door?’
‘No.’
‘I can’t understand how it got there,’ said Aunt Meg. She put the bread away. ‘Funny thing,’ she added, ‘there was a rose hip in it. Just one.’
In spite of feeling so upset, I smiled. Rosa … rose … rose hip. Rosa and Gilbert had found the milk and cheese. I hoped it had helped.
I thought about Rosa again when I was in bed. I remembered something she’d said.
‘Go where you wants to go. Why stay where you’se unhappy, when you can go where you’se happy?’
I sat bolt upright.
Did I dare?
CHAPTER NINE
As the first glimmer of dawn appeared, I stole downstairs with a picture letter I’d done for Mother.
There was an eye, then a picture of me on a cart beside a milestone saying ‘London 10 miles’. I did not actually know the distance, but that would do. Then I’d drawn a globe, and finally, a picture of me on a stage. I hoped it would say to her, ‘I have gone to London with the company, to the Globe, so I can be on stage.’
I ended with my pictures for ‘I love you’. Then I burned all the old drawings I’d left lying around, and put my letter on the table.
I took half a loaf, which was a bit stale, and some wrinkled apples from the apple store.
It hurt to leave Hoppy behind, but I needed to reach town before the company left, and he couldn’t run that fast.
I almost flew down the road but, even so, I was too late.
The yard was empty. The company had left.
As I walked slowly back into the market place, a voice said, ‘You looking for the players?’
It was the grumpy ostler.
‘I was,’ I said. ‘But they’ve gone.’
He gestured with his thumb. ‘They can only be a mile up the London road. Young lad like you could catch up with ’em in no time.’
My grin must have nearly split my face in half! ‘Thank you!’ I cried, and I raced towards the London road.
I didn’t stop running until I saw the wagon and carts lumbering along ahead of me. I slipped into the trees at the roadside to think what to do. If I asked them to take me, they might refuse. That would be that. But if I stowed away, they would take me without knowing.
The last cart was full of props. Even though it was covered by sacking, I could tell what it was by all the lumps and bumps sticking out. Old John Merry was driving it, and the way he slumped in his seat suggested he was half asleep.
I was wondering how to sneak on to the cart when I felt a familiar tug at my breeches. I nearly jumped out of my skin!
‘Rosa!’ I whispered.‘What are you doing here?’
‘Nuffin’,’ she said. ‘Just walkin’ about. You’re going then? Going where you’se happy?’
I’d just finished explaining my plan, when Gilbert slipped through the trees, clutching a handful of duck eggs.
‘What you up to?’ he asked.
Rosa quickly told him. ‘He ’ad to leave ’is dog behind,’ she added, ‘’cos of his lame leg. Now ’e has to get on the cart. I thought I’d try the crying trick. What d’you think, Pa?’
‘Reckon that would do it,’ he said. ‘You carry on, Rosa, my pet. I’ll see you later. I got something to do.’
I watched him melt into the trees. When I turned back, Rosa was gone!
The train of carts was rounding a bend. I slipped through the trees, keeping pace with the rear cart, when suddenly, the driver of the big front wagon gave a shout.
‘Woah!’ he cried. ‘Hold fast!’
The carts stopped, and then I heard it. Rosa’s voice, crying, wailing.
I moved to the side so I could see what she was up to. She was sitting in the middle of the road in front of the lead wagon, howling her eyes out.
‘I lost me penny!’ she bawled. ‘Aow, aow, I lost me penny.’
Old John shouted from the back, ‘What’s amiss?’
‘Little girl lost her penny!’ came the reply. ‘She won’t move!’
Old John Merry swore, then called, ‘Give her a penny quick, and let’s be on our way.’
While they fussed over Rosa and her penny, I darted to the back of the props cart, and slid beneath the musty-smelling sacking.
My heart thumped, and there was pounding in my ears.
After a few moments, the cart jerked into motion.
We’d only travelled a few yards when a corner of the sacking was lifted, revealing Rosa’s mischievous little face. She walked behind the cart, crouched down so old John wouldn’t see her if he turned round, which was unlikely. He was probably dozing off again.
‘Thank you, Rosa,’ I whispered. ‘One day I will write a play, and I will name the heroine Rosa. She’ll be brave and clever, like you.’
She grinned. ‘Travel safely,’ she said. ‘I will see you again, one day.’
The sacking dropped.
We moved so slowly I knew it would be a long journey. I tried to get comfortable, but a sword stuck into my back. I pushed it aside and felt for the leather bag I’d stuffed beneath the throne. I found it and pulled out the crowns. Rolled up, the bag made a pillow for my head.
I wished they’d hurry. After what seemed ages, we’d probably covered a mile at most.
I heard soft footsteps at the back of the cart. Then a chink of light revealed a big gnarled hand, shoving a cloth-wrapped package beneath the sacking.
I froze. What was happening?
My heart thumped. In a moment I would be discovered. We were still so close to Kinglake Manor that I’d be bound to be sent home, in disgrace.
The sacking lifted a little higher, and my heart thumped harder, because the next thing that was thrust towards me was my little dog. Hoppy! Gilbert’s grinning face appeared. He, like Rosa, was crouching behind the cart, walking to keep up with it.
‘Thought you’d be better off with company, lad,’ he whispered. ‘Weren’t no trouble getting him. I’m good with dogs, me.’
‘Thank you, Gilbert,’ I whispered, as my face was licked all over.
And he was gone.
I settled down, hugging Hoppy.
We were on our way to London, together.
CHAPTER TEN
The horrible, bumpy journey took much longer than I expected. I didn’t bargain for the drivers stopping overnight at an inn. They took turns guarding the carts, and it was only when old John Merry was on guard that Hoppy and I had a chance to get out for a pee, and to stretch our legs.
I was grateful for Gilbert’s little package. Inside were three chicken legs, which I ate, trusting they weren’t from any of Aunt Meg’s hens. I gave Hoppy the remaining chunks of meat, which I could not identify.
Next morning, we set off early and, before long, I heard the sound of more carts trundling along, and the pounding of horses’ hooves. The road was growing busier, and I guessed we were nearing the city. I knew when we passed through the gate in London’s wall, because the rattling of the cart echoed for a moment. The worst bit of the journey began then, as the cart clattered badly over cobbles, and everything shifted about. I got clouted on the head by a shield, and I felt sick from being thrown about so much.
And the voices! Street sellers shouting their wares, people arguing and swearing, children crying or laughing. I had forgotten how crowded London was. In the country you could walk a mile and only see sheep or cows.
I had also forgotten the stinks of the city. In the country everything smelled cleaner and fresher. Not so here. I knew the road would be slimy from animal poo and rotten vegetables and all manner of rubbish.
I dared not look out in case a passer-by shouted to old John that someone was hiding in his cart, but I knew when we reached the river. I could smell it. I had never thought of it as a bad smell before. Would I get used to it again? I wondered.
The noises changed, too, down by the river. Instead of street sellers’ cries, I heard sailors and wharfmen, shouting things like, ‘Heave!’ and ‘Hold fast!’
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