Free The Nine Giants by Edward Marston Page A

playgoers surging north out of the city. Many of them converged on The Curtain, the other public playhouse in Shoreditch, a circular structure that stood on land that had once been part of Holywell Priory. Banbury’s Men were in residence there and the audience flocked to see Giles Randolph as the evil King John. His reputation was overshadowed by that of Lawrence Firethorn, who brought even more spectators hurrying through the doors of The Theatre. Once again, Westfield’s Men had the critical edge over its hated rivals.
    Abel Strudwick had never been to a play before and he was bewildered by the whole experience. Having paid his penny to one of the gatherers, he went through into the yard and stood as close to the stage as he could. He was soon part of a jostling throng with a carnival spirit and he succumbed willingly to the prevailing atmosphere of mirth. His poems were a source of immense pride to him but he had only so far recited them to his wife and to Nicholas Bracewell. The thought of standing up on that scaffold and entertaining a huge crowd with the work of his creative imagination was quite exhilarating. Long before
Double Deceit
began, he had got his penny’s worth.
    Matilda Stanford was ushered into the second gallery by her stepson. A friend of his had helped to escort her at the Queen’s Head but the young man felt able to look after her alone at The Theatre. William Stanford had opted for a black doublet with a wide-shouldered look and for matching hose. Silver flashes relieved the impression of totaldarkness and silver feathers adorned his hat. His stepmother had chosen a blend of subtle greens in a dress that displayed all her best features to advantage. Her hair and clothing were perfumed and she carried a pomander to ward off any unpleasant smells that might arise in a packed auditorium. The mask which dangled from her other hand could be used to hide the blushes that were already threatening to come as her presence was noted by the gallants who surrounded her. Compliments and comments ambushed her from all sides.
    The keenest attention she received, however, was from Argos of Rome. Costumed for his first entrance, Lawrence Firethorn peered through a chink in the curtain at the rear of the stage to pick out his beloved. She looked even more alluring than before, with those blue eyes and red lips lighting up her porcelain skin. Matilda Stanford had true radiance and he prostrated himself before it.
    Nicholas Bracewell came quietly up behind him.
    ‘Stand by, sir.’
    ‘She had my invitation, Nick. She is
here
.’
    ‘So is the hour of two.’
    ‘I knew that she would not disappoint me!’
    ‘Stand by, Argos of Rome!’
    ‘This is earthly paradise.’
    ‘We begin!’
    The book holder was firmly in control of the whole operation once the performance started and not even the company’s star was allowed to forget that. Firethorn moved quickly across to join Barnaby Gill in readiness for their entrance. The signal was given by Nicholas, the trumpetsounded and the Prologue stepped out in a black cloak to receive a virgin ripple of applause and to outline the plot of
Double Deceit
in rhyming couplets. Argos and Silvio then burst onto the stage in a flurry of arms and legs as the master upbraided his servant and beat him black and blue. Firethorn’s voice was hoarse with outrage as he listed his complaints and Gill made the audience collapse with laughter at the hilarious way he fell to the ground each time he was struck. The comic timing and the physical dexterity of the two men was breathtaking. They had won everyone over by the time they made their exit then they reappeared instantly in other guises to win the spectators over even more completely.
    Double Deceit
had never been played with such panache.
    There was only one dissentient voice.
    ‘I am wasted in this verminous comedy.’
    ‘Your hour will come, Owen.’
    ‘It is a crime to subdue such talent as mine.’
    ‘Do but wait awhile and it