Free A Play of Isaac by Margaret Frazer

not so stoutly strong as he looks. She said to ask if there was anything we needed for that or anything else, and to speak with the chamberlain if there was something particular to how the hall should be set up for either Lewis’s play or Wednesday’s. We should be so lucky in our hire all the time!”
    Joliffe couldn’t quarrel with that. All too often the best they could hope for was not to have too much trouble put in their way.
    “All she asked was that Wednesday’s play be somewhat to the point of Corpus Christi, it being the feast’s eve,” Basset went on. “I told her what we had in mind—I didn’t tell her I had idiots as bad as her own in my company who have to learn their lines all over . . .”
    “‘For no doubt death has mastery, to make to weep and sorrow. From holy writ and prophecy this knowledge I do borrow,’” Joliffe declared, raising a dramatic hand.
    Basset clapped him happily on the back again. “There! I knew the part was still in your addled head somewhere. It was just a matter of grubbing around till you found it. Anyway, she said it would do well.”
    “There’s the part where the Devil makes somewhat rude sport with the Bishop,” Joliffe warned.
    “I told her of that and said we could cut it out, but she said laughter could be as much to God’s glory as prayer and she’d trust we keep all within bounds. There’s a woman I’d marry if I could.”
    “Pity she’s wed and can’t accept the honor,” Joliffe said, with cheek enough he knew to duck as Basset made to cuff his head.
    “You keep a courteous tongue in your head, boy. And don’t think I didn’t notice you noticing the daughter either. Just mind that noticing her is all you do.”
    “Tell it to Ellis. He’s the one has an eye for the women.”
    Basset snorted. “And you don’t? Heed me. There’s to be no loosening of the loins while we’re here. You hear?”
    They had reached the barn, were just outside its door. Joliffe paused to sweep Basset a deep and flourishing bow, declaiming as from his very soul, “Your command is ever the wish of my heart.”
    “Oh, lord. What’s he thinking of getting up to now?” Ellis called from inside.
    “Nothing, if he knows what’s good for him,” Basset growled, and then, on the instant all brighter humoured, added, “Ah, here come our fine young devils,” as Piers and Lewis came out of a narrow gap between two of the buildings ranged between the barn and the house, Lewis’s Matthew following behind them.
    “We’ve seen Mistress Penteney! Piers called.“She told us!”
    “But does Master Fairfield want to do it?” Basset called back, as if he did not know the answer.
    “Of course he does,” Piers said, scornful that his grandfather had to ask.
    “Of course I do!” Lewis echoed.
    Basset looked skyward for the divine help that never seemed to come when called for, sighed with mock despair, “What have I done?”, clapped his hands and declared, “To work then!”

Chapter 5
    But Basset did not intend to shape all their work to Lewis. Instead, he said they would begin with a run-through of the Abraham and Isaac to see how much (with a glare at Joliffe and Ellis) they’d all forgotten.
    “That can wait,” Piers protested. “We know the thing backwards!”
    “I want to see if we know it forward, too,” Basset said quellingly. “Besides, Rose needs to measure Lewis for his devil-wear. Go on.”
    He pointed them aside to where Rose was laying out a length of somewhat battered red cloth, bought last autumn cheap off a stall in Warwick marketplace from a batch spoiled in the dyeing. At the time Basset had said, “At that price, we’ll sooner or later find it fit for something or other,” and today he was proved—as usual—right: some of it could easily be made into a devil’s tabard for Lewis. Diverted, Piers and Lewis went to Rose, leaving Basset, Ellis, and Joliffe to outline a square-cornered shape the size of their scaffold in the barn’s dirt