behind her, of soldiers, actors, and audience. Horatio’s voice rose above the others, urging the actors to run, then cut short with a cry of pain. The soldiers had grabbed Horatio.
Suzanne never saw or heard what happened to the rest of her fellow thespians, for all she knew or cared about was to keep Piers out of the hands of the authorities, and any other loyalty came second to that. All their clothing and money she left behind in the trunk she and Piers kept in the wagon. Everything she’d accumulated with the troupe over the last two years,gone. She and Piers ran as far as they could, then when Piers could run no farther, she ducked into a doorway to gasp for breath. She held her son to her side, tight so that he wouldn’t move and couldn’t be flushed from hiding in a panic. She whispered for him to be quiet, an unnecessary caution, for he was as silent and alert as a rabbit.
She listened for approaching soldiers, unsure which direction she would bolt if she heard them. When the actors and audience had been dispersed and the noises in the distance were reduced to normal street sounds of horses and vendors, she continued to wait until she was certain no soldiers lurked in search of stragglers.
Finally she guided Piers away from the street and they walked as far as they could, until the boy began to complain of exhaustion. She found an alley that offered some protection from view, and they sat against a brick wall for the scant warmth it offered from fires inside.
Piers kept quiet, though his eyes were wide with terror. Suzanne fought tears as she realized they were on their own once more, with no money and only the clothes on their backs. Suzanne happened to be wearing the man’s clothing for her role as Viola. With Horatio in custody of the authorities, there was no troupe. They would have to return to Maddie’s, at least for now. There was nothing for it but that.
But she couldn’t take Piers there again. At eleven years old, he was ripe for a career robbing people. He was no longer a toddler to be passed from auntie to auntie, and Suzanne wouldn’t have him taught what those women would teach him now. Something had to be done for him, for she wouldn’t have him a thief or beggar. His father was an earl; it would be wrong for Piers to live this way any longer. She said in alow, secret voice, “Piers, how would it be if you went away for a while?”
His voice quaked with terror and shock. “Are they going to arrest me, Mama?”
“No! No, son. They won’t arrest you, not so long as I’m here. But what if you went away where they couldn’t arrest you?”
He didn’t reply right away, and when he did his voice was small. “I couldn’t leave, Mama.”
“I mean, to work. Learn a trade.”
“I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you. Not ever.”
“I could find you an apprenticeship somewhere. How would you like that? It would mean a warm place to sleep every night and enough food to keep your belly from complaining.”
Piers was silent, thinking about that. Though he ate every day, it was rarely enough. The idea of having more to eat was surely appealing. But he said, “I’d miss you too much.”
“But you could write to me.”
“I don’t write so well, Mama.”
“Then you’ll learn. Practice makes perfect. You’ll learn to write, and cipher, and then you could find employment and never be hungry again.”
A great, rolling snuffle in the darkness told her he was crying. “I want to stay with you.”
“You want me to be proud of you?”
“I think so. But why can’t I stay here? We should find the others and go where the soldiers can’t find us. Then we could continue to be in plays and stay with the folks in the troupe.”
“They can’t teach you to be a fine man; they can only teach you to pick pockets and cheat people. You should have a real master who will teach you how to make a decent, respectableliving, so you won’t have to run away from soldiers or steal for