The Pale Companion by Philip Gooden Read Free Book Online Page A

have none of this and soon called us to order.
    “Gentlemen,” he said, “welcome to Instede. I know that Lord Elcombe is a good friend to us players and to the Globe playhouse, and would wish me to say so on his behalf.”
    “That’s more than he knows,” said Laurence Savage to me in a fairly audible aside.
    “We must remember,” continued Sincklo, “that although we are accustomed to be the centre of attention, the cynosure of all eyes, for as long as we’re here at Instede we are a sideshow to the principal attraction. We are in this place to assist at the celebration of a wedding and cannot expect to be centre-stage.”
    I wondered whether he was saying this to excuse the off-hand treatment which we’d already received and which was probably a foretaste of more off-handedness to come. Richard was a rather formal, cautious man, apt to think before he spoke and to speak only when necessary. I suddenly saw that staying and playing in a great man’s house might not be the simple proposition I’d imagined. Leading a band of players into what was a kind of foreign territory might require the skills of an ambassador. Perhaps this was why the Burbage brothers had selected Sincklo to be our senior on tour.
    “Nevertheless,” he continued, “I know that I can depend on the Chamberlain’s to give a good account of themselves whatever the circumstances. We are here to practise our craft and to earn our living. We are here to spread our good name even further abroad and to justify the sharers’ trust in us.”
    At this, he nodded in the direction of the other senior, Thomas Pope, who was himself one of the sharers – that is, an individual who had put up some of the cash to buy the Globe when our Company moved south of the river. Thomas smiled and slightly inclined his head at Richard’s words. I felt my heart swell to be a member of this fine Company in which men could give and receive compliments with such grace.
    At the same time there was a little niggling in my mind as I continued to wonder what Laurence Savage had meant by his cryptic remarks concerning the part of Demetrius in the play. However, this was not an appropriate moment to ask Richard Sincklo, who continued: “We have a chamber on the ground floor of this great house which has been put at our disposal for practice and rehearsal and, though we are all tired and dusty at the end of a long day’s journey, our craft will be tireder and dustier still if we do not attend to it. After all, it’s several days since we last rehearsed. So I say to you that we shall begin our business in half an hour.”
    Such was the discipline and good-will of our band that there was not even a murmur of protest at what Sincklo had said, although inwardly no doubt quite a few (like me) were regretting being called to arms quite so soon. As often happens in rehearsal the tiredness dropped off me like a snake’s skin. Jack Horner took the part of Demetrius. I knew, though, by the manner of his playing and by his frequent recourse to the scroll containing Demetrius’s lines that this was not
his
part. He was standing in for someone else. I could have asked Jack but our friendship had somewhat cooled of late, and I didn’t want to give him the impression that I didn’t know what was what. Equally, I could have spoken to Richard Sincklo but he was preoccupied and furrowed-looking. I decided to leave the question since it would be apparent enough who was playing Demetrius when we got down to the real rehearsals. It was a little mystery I would have to live with for the time being.
    Anyway, by the end of our practice I could have run through ten more plays and a dozen jigs to round them off with. And this despite the fact that I have a not inconsiderable part in the play. I shall say more of both play and part (really quite a big one) later on in the story. What I want to relate now concerns what happened later that evening.
    As Master Sincklo described, we’d been