Free Kissing Shakespeare by Pamela Mingle

“We must do as he says or risk arrest.”
    And in a moment we found ourselves part of the crowd spread out in the town square, encircling the pyre. The cart holding the prisoner rolled over the cobbles, with the sheriff and Master Devin following closely behind. Between gulps of ale from their flagons, a few rough-looking men continued to jeer and shout at the prisoner. Although it seemed loud, I realized they were the only ones actually taunting the poor man. Most people looked as solemn as we did.
    Soon the sheriff and his men were hauling their captive up onto the raised planks that held the pyre. Then Master Devin stepped forward and started reading from the Bible.
    The condemned man shouted over him, his voice breaking. “I am innocent of treason. I love my queen and country, and want only to minister to my people. If that is a sin, then may God forgive me!”
    The sheriff’s men stepped forward and dragged him to the pyre. They chained him to a stake, which seemed completely unnecessary.
    Stephen had put his arm around me, and I turned and buried my face against him. My chest felt tight, and my breathing was shallow. Glancing up briefly, I wondered what had become of Thomas Cook. “Do you see Thomas?” I asked, suddenly fearful for his safety.
    “Nay. Perhaps he was able to slip away.”
    Two men with torches stepped forward and lit the fire. “Oh, no!” I looked up at Stephen. “Can’t we do anything?”
    “I fear it is too late. Do not watch.” Gently, he pushed my head against his shoulder.
    “May God have mercy on your souls!” the man shouted. “I am innocent! I have done nothing wrong!”
    The flames crackled and the wind fed them. They grew higher and now the prisoner’s garment caught fire. He continued to shout, but I could no longer make out the words. And then the keening began, quickly followed by prolonged screams as the heat seared his flesh. I covered my ears, not moving from Stephen’s side. Right before I closed my eyes, I’d glanced over at Jennet and Will, standing together. His wide, sorrowful eyes met mine for an instant before he lowered his head. It was Jennet’s manner that shocked me. Arms crossed in front of her chest, she watched intently, seemingly composed. Perhaps she’d seen this many times and was inured to the horror. I didn’t know what to think.
    Stephen pressed his cheek against my head. I opened my eyes long enough to see that his were squeezed shut. Smoke now hung thick in the air, stinging my nose, and there was another smell as well. I understood that it must be burned flesh. The screams kept on. “Please, Stephen, can’t we leave?” I begged.
    We began backing away, and then he released me. “Run to the horses!”
    Before long all of our party except Thomas had gathered and mounted. I noticed Jennet was now riding with Will. Alexander gave the signal to move out.
    “Sir!” Will shouted. “What about Thomas?”
    “Thomas is safe. Do not concern yourself.” Alexander whipped his horse into a gallop, and the rest of us followed. Stephen held me tightly, and his strength was the only thing that kept me from hysterics. Tears streamed down my cheeks and little sobs burst out, even though I tried to hold them in.
    We didn’t break our silence until we’d ridden about halfway home and finally slowed our pace. When I felt enough in control of my emotions I said, “If Shakespeare becomes a priest—a Jesuit—could this happen to him?”
    “I do not doubt that it could. The Jesuits are willing and prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, which would place Will Shakespeare at grave risk if he joined their ranks.”
    For the first time, I understood the danger to Shakespeare and the urgency Stephen felt. I recognized the zeal in the prisoner’s eyes, and understood that a young and sensitive boy could be influenced by such fanaticism. I knew and accepted that we had to act while there was still time.
    I twisted around toward Stephen. I wanted to make sure