Free Love Disguised by Lisa Klein Page B

THE BOAR’S HEAD INN, WHITECHAPEL
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    â€œDavy, show me the way to the Boar’s Head and I will buy you all the sack you can drink,” said Will on an impulse. He was afraid he sounded like an overeager bumpkin.
    His new companion hesitated but obliged him. On the way they happened to meet an acquaintance of Davy’s. In his silver-hued doublet, Peter Flick reminded Will of a colorful fish darting through the crowded streets.
    â€œPeter’s a trusty fellow. But his wit’s not so sharp since a robber struck him in the head with a stave,” said Davy. He glanced sideways at Will. “A man has to judge well whom he takes for a friend.”
    â€œHave no doubts about me. I intend no harm to any man,” Will assured him.
    Davy clapped Will’s shoulder as they passed through Aldgate and into Whitechapel Lane. At once Will saw the sign of a boar’s head. He was pleased with himself for finding two friends
and
a play on his first day in London. At the gate he paid two pennies for the privilege of viewing the play from a bench and received a token. In the yard a man and a boy hammered a stage together. As the performance would not begin for another hour, Will and his friends went inside for some victuals. Davy and Peter showed a keen interest in his well-being, pouring him such a quantity of sweet sack that he in turn poured out all his troubles, confessing he had come to the city to repay a debt and to escape “two vile vixens.”
    â€œAs my name is Will Shakespeare, I love no woman!” he declared to them.
    A few moments later Will heard a crash, smelled ale, andrealized that a serving wench had dashed her pitcher to the floor beside his table. Why would she do such a wasteful thing? He blinked up at her. He had never seen so tall a girl. Her body was as slender as a sapling. With her crown of gold hair and fierce aspect she resembled a god of thunder and lightning. The sight so startled Will that he choked, spewing ale from his nose. No wonder she looked so angry. He must have been swearing like a shipman or pounding on the table. It was the sack making him rowdy. But it tasted so sweet! He knew he must stop.
    â€œO you mortal goddess, why look you so wrathful?” He heard the words tumble thickly from his mouth. He bestowed on the goddess a smile designed to free him from the hook of his own misdeeds. But she wasn’t even looking at him. Another wench, however, the short one who had been waiting on them, tilted her head and smiled at him. Faith, she was a pretty one! And she fancied him already.
    â€œYou are not welcome here, Davy Dapper,” the goddess was saying. “Nor you with your filching fingers, Peter Flick.”
    â€œâ€™Sblood, she knows me,” said Davy, preening like a peacock. “Do I know you, maypole?”
    â€œYou should, knave. I am Long Meg. And I know how you cursed cuffins plan to gull this innocent yokel.”
    Will tried to stand up and found it difficult. “I’m neither innocent nor local but a sinful man from Stratford,” he protested.
    â€œMy quarrel is not with you, sirrah, but with these two milk-livered villains.”
    Davy and Peter exchanged looks. Peter stood up and put his arm around Will to keep him upright.
    â€œYou insult my new friends?” Will said. “You, a woman!”
    â€œDo you have your purse about you?” the giantess asked him.
    Will smiled. He made a great show of patting his sides. He shook out his arms, looking puzzled when nothing fell from his sleeves. He reached into his pockets and pulled them inside out. “Have I been robbed?” he said, looking about with feigned horror.
    â€œYou are right; he must be a performer of some kind,” the little serving maid said to the one called Long Meg.
    Will put his finger to his forehead. “Aha!” he said and reached into the front of his trousers. He pulled out a purse and shook it. Coins clinked