The Vagabond Clown

by Edward Marston

  Margery Firethorn had made the long trip from Shoreditch so that her husband would have a wife and children to wave him off. Her face was set in an expression of quiet resignation but she brightened as soon as she saw Nicholas approaching. After rushing across to hug him, she kissed Anne in greeting and nudged her playfully.

  ‘You have chosen the handsomest man in the company,’ she said.

  Anne smiled. ‘We chose each other, Margery.’

  ‘That’s how it should be. You are blessed in her, Nick.’

  ‘I’m in no danger of forgetting that,’ he assured her. ‘Anne reminded me of it only this morning. But you must excuse me,’ he said, as new faces arrived. ‘I must make an inventory of who is here and who is yet to come.’

  Margery watched him go then stood close enough to Anne to whisper to her.

  ‘I’m surprised that you two have never wed,’ she confided.

  ‘How do you know that we have not?’ teased Anne.

  ‘Because I would see it in your face. If he were mine, I’d drag him to the altar.’

  ‘Nick is not a person to be dragged anywhere.’

  ‘He dotes on you, Anne.’

  ‘Would marriage secure or spoil his devotion?’

  ‘An apt question,’ conceded Margery, glancing at her husband. ‘Lawrence’s passion has never waned but I can only count on it when we share our bed. Let him venture outside London and he becomes a lusty bachelor. You’ll have no cause to doubt Nick but I’ll not be able to show a like trust in my husband.’

  ‘You should, Margery. Whenever they are abroad, Nick says, Lawrence never ceases to mention your name with fondness.’

  ‘Only when his guilt stirs.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anne, ‘he’s guilty at having to leave you behind.’

  She looked across at Firethorn and saw him enjoying a few last moments of fatherhood. His two sons were sitting astride his horse while he chatted with them. Anne’s gaze moved to Edmund Hoode, who was talking earnestly with Owen Elias, then on to Nicholas. He had taken control with his usual efficiency. After counting heads, he was helping George Dart to check the list of scenery, properties and costumes that would be making the journey to Kent. Anne’s surge of pride was matched by her sense of loss. It was inspiring to see Nicholas at work with the troupe. He was in his element and everyone treated him with respect. When she remembered that she would not be seeing him for some weeks, a tremor ran through her. Margery’s hand went to her arm.

  ‘Be brave, Anne,’ she urged. ‘The first night is the worst.’

  Nicholas himself was not looking that far ahead. He had a more immediate concern. When he was satisfied that the wagons had been correctly loaded, he turned to look for missing persons again. Three had been absent at the first count and he was relieved to see that both James Ingram and Rowland Carr had now appeared. However, he was disturbed when there was still no sign of the latest addition to the troupe. He was not alone in being worried about Gideon Mussett. Hoode came anxiously across to him.

  ‘Where is he, Nick?’ he asked.

  ‘He’ll be here,’ said Nicholas with conviction.

  ‘And if he does not come?’

  ‘Then I take the blame squarely on my shoulders, Edmund.’

  ‘I feared that this might happen.’

  ‘Have faith. He gave me his word.’

  ‘Only when he was sober,’ said Hoode, glancing around. ‘And how long will sobriety last when he has so many taverns in which to get drunk? If he is here, I suspect that he’s lying in a stupor in the Bear, the George or the Tabard. This street is a very heaven for a thirsty man. Have you searched the taprooms yet?’

  ‘There’s no need of that. I warned him to avoid ale.’

  ‘Then he will drink sack or Canary wine instead.’

  ‘He’s no money to buy either,’ said Nicholas, ‘and he’s been bound to a contract that obliges him to curtail his pleasures. If he refuses to obey, he’ll end up back in the jail from which we plucked him.’ He pointed to prison buildings nearby. ‘That may be the answer, Edmund,’ he continued, his spirits reviving. ‘I should have used more care before I nominated the White Hart as our meeting place. What man would wish to return to the very shadow of the place where he was imprisoned? That’s why Giddy is not here. He’ll meet us further down the road where ugly memories are not so easily revived.’

  ‘We will be the ones with ugly memories, if he lets us down.’

  ‘That will not happen. He needs work.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s gone to seek it elsewhere.’

  ‘I put my trust in him, Edmund.’

  Hoode gave a nod. ‘Then I put my trust in your judgement.’

  No sooner had the playwright moved away than Firethorn strutted across. He was beaming regally at all and sundry but his eyes were darting nervously. Grabbing Nicholas by the arm, he took him aside.

  ‘What time did you tell the rogue to be here?’ he asked.

  ‘Upon the stroke of eight.’

  ‘It’s almost half an hour past that.’

  ‘Something has, perchance, delayed him.’

  Firethorn was scornful. ‘Some fat whore in red taffeta no doubt!’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘Giddy has not gone down that path. We must remember all those nights he spent in prison when he could barely snatch an hour’s sleep, and that in the greatest discomfort. If anything delays him, it’s pure fatigue.’

  ‘Where did he lodge?’

  ‘He said he would stay with a friend.’

  ‘What friend?’ demanded Firethorn. ‘Where does he live? Giddy Mussett is as slippery as a wet ferret. You should not have let him out of your sight, Nick.’

  ‘He swore to me that he’d be here.’

  ‘Then where, in God’s name, is the saucy rascal?’

  The answer came from behind him. Shutters opened on the window of an upstairs room in the White Hart and a startling figure was revealed. Giddy Mussett was dressed from head to foot in bright yellow garments and wore a blue hat that rose up in a point until it reached the tiny bell at its extremity. In case anyone was not aware of his sudden appearance, Mussett put a fist to his mouth and blew a token fanfare. All eyes turned to look up at him and he revelled in the attention.

  ‘Good morrow, friends!’ he called. ‘Giddy Mussett is sorry to keep you waiting. He had important business to complete within the tavern here but he is now ready to join you on your wondrous journey into Kent.’ He swayed slightly. ‘I’m privileged to be a member of Westfield’s Men and I hope you’ll welcome me with open hearts.’

  Nicholas was both pleased and alarmed to see him, reassured that the clown had actually turned up but distressed by the way that he was slurring his words. Firethorn looked on with disgust.

  ‘The fellow’s drunk!’ he protested.

  ‘I think not.’

  ‘Look at the way he is swaying.’

  ‘He’s here and we should be grateful.’

  ‘Get him down, Nick.’

  It was a pointless command. Before Nicholas could even move towards the tavern, Mussett contrived his own dramatic exit from the establishment. After waving happily to the crowd below, he seemed to lose his balance and fall headfirst through the window. There was a gasp of horror from all those below. Had they lost their new clown at the very moment they had been introduced to him? Would his blood be spattered all over the ground? Their fears were unfounded. Turning a somersault in the air, Mussett landed on his feet with catlike certainty. He doffed the hat that had stayed miraculously on his head and grinned wickedly at his audience.

  ‘Giddy is not quite so giddy, my friends,’ he announced in an unwavering voice. ‘I’m as sober as the best among you and ready to share in your great adventure.’

  Elias led the applause. ‘It was all a jest!’ he shouted.

  Nicholas did not join in the general laughter. Relieved that Mussett was there, he was quietly angry at the way they had all been kept waiting so that the clown could make an impact on his fi
rst appearance. He resolved to make his feelings known to Mussett when they had a chance to speak alone. Firethorn, on the other hand, had no such reservations about their new clown.

  ‘Welcome to the company,’ he said, striding forward to shake Mussett’s hand. ‘We are pleased to have you with us, Giddy.’

  ‘Not as pleased as I am to be here, Master Firethorn.’

  ‘You were born to entertain.’

  ‘Laughter is meat and drink to me.’

  Replacing his hat, he executed a little dance then did a handstand to show off the two bells attached to his heels. After clicking them several times to pick out a simple tune, he rolled forward and sprang to his feet. Another round of clapping broke out and he bowed to acknowledge it. Mussett had achieved an instant popularity. Other members of the company gathered around to offer their own welcome. Some, like Elias and Hoode, already knew him but most were meeting the newcomer for the first time. Mussett’s gratitude was obvious. While others were still locked away in the filthy cell at the King’s Bench Prison, he was about to set out with the most celebrated theatre company of them all. His commitment to Westfield’s Men seemed wholehearted.

  Nicholas was keen to be on the way. There was a long journey ahead of them and a protracted leave-taking would only produce more sadness among those left behind. After giving Anne a kiss of farewell, he called the others to order and told them to clamber aboard the wagons that had been allotted to them. A flurry of embraces with loved ones followed before the departing actors were ready. Nicholas signalled to Mussett to join him on the first wagon and the four apprentices were delighted to have the clown beside them. Firethorn, Elias and James Ingram mounted their horses. For reasons that remained undisclosed, Hoode had decided to travel on a donkey. They were all sorry to be leaving the comforts of London and the security of their playhouse at the Queen’s Head. Travel would be arduous and it was uncertain how well they would be received in the various towns where they intended to play. Unseen hazards might lie ahead. Subduing their individual fears, they put on a brave face for their departure.

  At the last moment, however, it was unexpectedly delayed. Out of the stream of traffic that had been rattling south over London Bridge since dawn came a small cart that was moving at some speed. The driver, a stout man in his fifties, yelled aloud and waved to them with his whip. When he reached the wagons, he took his cart in a circle before bringing it to a halt. Lying on straw in the rear and propped up on a leather trunk was Barnaby Gill, his broken leg still held fast between splints.

  ‘Wait!’ he called. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘That’s madness, Barnaby,’ said Firethorn.

  ‘I insist. If someone else is to take my roles, I wish to be there to make sure that he does not abuse them.’ His eye flicked over the assembly. ‘Where is the knave?’

  ‘Here, Barnaby,’ said Mussett, standing up to give him a cheerful wave. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘I take no delight in seeing you,’ said Gill sharply. ‘Now, help me, someone. Get me and my baggage off this cart and onto the most comfortable wagon.’

  ‘Is it wise to travel in that condition?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘If both my legs were broken, I’d happily endure the pain.’

  ‘No,’ said Firethorn. ‘We’ll not let you suffer so, Barnaby. We’re actors. We have no skills as nurses. You need care and attention.’

  ‘I need to be sure that no threadbare clown will try to displace me.’

  ‘You will only be in the way, man.’

  ‘That’s my intention, Lawrence.’

  ‘Do not be so perverse,’ said Hoode, bringing his donkey alongside the cart. ‘Why give yourself further grief? You’ll get no pleasure from what you see, only the anguish of hearing another being applauded in your stead.’

  ‘You penned those roles for me, Edmund. I want to protect my property.’

  ‘It would be more sensible to protect your injured leg.’

  ‘My mind is made up.’

  Hoode and Firethorn tried to persuade him of the folly of his decision but he was adamant. As a leading sharer with the troupe, Gill had rights that he was not prepared to cede to anyone. When the argument reached its peak, it was Mussett who ran across to join in. Alone of those present, he offered encouragement.

  ‘Welcome, Barnaby,’ he said. ‘Travel beside me in my wagon.’

  ‘Anywhere but that!’ snapped Gill.

  ‘But we could discuss the roles I have to play.’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘I could explain to you how I’ll outshine you in each and every one.’

  ‘Keep away from me, Giddy.’

  ‘Would you not like to have me as your nurse?’

  ‘I’d sooner eat your night soil!’

  Mussett cackled. ‘A herbal remedy that cures all ills, I do assure you.’

  Nicholas intervened to separate the two men, sending Mussett back to the first wagon then trying his best to make Gill reconsider his decision. It was all to no avail. The company was forced to accept an additional member on its tour. With the utmost care, Gill was carried across to the last of the wagons with his baggage and made as comfortable as was possible. He sat there with a grim smile on his face. Firethorn had profound misgivings. He turned to Nicholas.

  ‘I spy danger ahead,’ he confided, rolling his eyes. ‘There is only one thing worse than having no clown.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nicholas. ‘Having two of them.’

  Chapter Five

  Progress was slow on the first stage of the journey south. Driving the first of the wagons, Nicholas Bracewell set the pace, making sure that the horses were not pushed too far or too fast as they hauled their heavy loads over uneven roads. There were frequent stops to rest and water the animals, and to allow the travellers to take refreshment or relieve themselves. Moods varied considerably in the three wagons. Thanks to the presence of Giddy Mussett, the occupants of the first were in a state of almost continuous delight. George and the four apprentices, in particular, laughed at everything he said or did. Nicholas was amused by some of the comments he heard over his shoulder but he had not forgiven Mussett for delaying their departure and giving them all an unnecessary fright. Had they left at the appointed hour, Nicholas reflected, they might have avoided the embarrassment of having to include Barnaby Gill in their number.

  Rowland Carr was in charge of the second wagon. As well as much of their baggage, it also contained several of the actors. Carr was a sharer with the troupe, a slim, sharp-featured man in his early forties with a reputation for being dependable. While he would never be capable of stealing a scene on stage, he could always be relied upon to offer a sterling performance in a supporting role. Like the others around him, Carr was a married man who was sad to part with his wife and children, fearful that they might not manage easily without him. Owen Elias rode beside the wagon and tried to cheer his fellows with humorous comments but a mood of quiet sorrow prevailed. They were already missing the joys of family life.

  It was in the third wagon that Barnaby Gill held court, stretched out in the middle of the remaining actors and pouring scorn on the hated rival who had replaced him. His remarks were a compound of envy, malice and sheer disgust. They did nothing to lighten the atmosphere in the wagon. Lawrence Firethorn brought his stallion alongside and attempted once more to convince Gill that he would be better off in London.

  ‘All you will do is prolong your misery,’ he said.

  ‘It’s my decision, Lawrence.’

  ‘A foolish one, at that. Why force yourself to watch something that you know you will despise? And there is another aspect here. How can Giddy Mussett give of his best if you are leering at him from the audience?’

  Gill smirked. ‘I’ll do more than leer at him, I warrant you!’

  ‘Think how that may damage our performance, Barnaby.’

  ‘Mussett is my only target.’

  ‘But you’ll trouble the whole company.’

  The others in
the wagon said nothing but their expressions showed that they agreed with Firethorn’s observation. Gill was already proving a disruptive influence. He was a prickly travelling companion with a score to settle. Serious problems would ensue.

  Summer sunshine bathed them every inch of the way and it was only when evening shadows began to dapple the fields around them that they started to look for shelter. Nicholas selected a wayside inn called the Shepherd and Shepherdess because it was large enough to accommodate them and well over halfway to their first destination. Its brightly painted sign depicted two rustic lovers, each in a smock and equipped with a crook, holding hands as they stood amid their sheep. After leading the troupe into the yard, Nicholas brought them to a halt for the day. As soon as the book holder jumped down from the wagon, Firethorn beckoned him over.

  ‘Barnaby is set on causing an upset,’ he warned, dismounting from the saddle.

  ‘That must be prevented at all costs.’

  ‘How has Giddy behaved?’

  ‘Like an angel,’ said Nicholas. ‘Dick Honeydew and the others love him already. He made a long journey seem very short.’

  ‘Barnaby made it seem like an eternity. If I broke my leg, Margery would not let me stir from the house until it mended. He should do likewise. The doctor advised it. Whatever drove Barnaby to force himself upon us like this?’

  ‘His pride.’

  ‘And sheer stubbornness.’

  ‘Something of both, I fancy.’

  ‘Keep the pair of them apart, Nick,’ implored Firethorn. ‘The last thing we need is a duel of words between two vicious tongues.’