Constable of Bankside in which this theater is placed.”
“Ar’t come to imprison me for defaming the watch then, sir?” asked Burbage stiffly.
Master Drew chuckled with good humor. “Marry, sir, there be not enough prisons in the entire kingdom wherein to imprison everyone who makes jest of the constable and his watch.”
“Then what—?”
“I am seeking one Tom Hawkins.”
Burbage groaned aloud. “What has he done? He is due on stage in an hour or so, and I fear we have no competent understudy. Do not tell me that you mean to arrest him? On what grounds?”
“I come not to arrest anyone… yet. Where is Master Hawkins?”
“Not here as yet.”
Master Drew looked round. There were a few people in corners of the theater, apparently rehearsing lines. “What play are you rehearsing?” he asked with interest.
“Will Shakespeare’s Famous History of the Life of King Henry VIII.”
“Ah, that is a play that I have not seen.”
“Then you would be most welcome to stay….”
“Does Master Hawkins take part in this play?”
“He does, for he is Cardinal Campeius,” came Burbage’s immediate response. “It is a part of medium tolerance, a few lines here and yonder.”
“The elderly harassed-looking doorman approached Burbage. “I declare, Master Richard, that the fools have not sent us gunpowder. What shall I do?”
Burbage took an oath by God and his angels that all except himself were incompetent fools and idlers. “Go directly to Master Glyn s gunsmithy across the street and take a bucket. Return it filled with gunpowder, and tell Master Glyn that I will pay him after this evening’s performance.”
The old man went scurrying off.
“Gunpowder?” Master Drew frowned. “What part has gunpowder to do in your play?”
Burbage pointed to the back of the theater. “We have mounted a small cannon in one of the boxes on the second floor. The box will not be hired out during any performance.”
“And what will this cannon do, except blow the players to kingdom come?” demanded the constable wryly.
“Not so, not so. In act two, scene four, we have a grand scene with everyone on stage and the king and his entourage enters, with princes, dukes, and cardinals. It is a grand entrance, and Will Shakespeare calls for a sennet with divers trumpets and cornets. I thought to add to the spectacle by having a royal salute fired from a cannon. It will just be the ignition of the gunpowder, of course, but the combustion shall be explosive and startle our dreaming audience into concentration upon the action!”
Master Drew sniffed. “I doubt it will do more than cause them to have deafness and perhaps start a riot out of panic for fear that the papists have attacked the theater.” He was about to settle down to wait for Tom Hawkins when he had a further thought. “In truth, turning to concentration reminds me that I would have you set your mind upon a youth whose description I shall presently give.” He quickly sketched the description of the youth whose body they had fished out of the river.
Richard Burbages reaction was immediate. “God damn my eyes, Master Constable, I have been searching for that miscreant since this morning. He failed to turn up at the rehearsal, and I have had to give his part to his friend. Where is the execrable young rogue?”
“Dead these past twelve hours, I fear.”
Richard Burbage was shocked. He clapped his hand to his head. But the main reason for his perturbation was soon apparent. “A player short! If ever the gods were frowning on me this day…”
“I would know more about this boy…,” insisted the constable. Richard Burbage had turned to wave to a man who had just entered the theater.
Master Drew recognized Richard Burbage’s brother, Cuthbert, immediately.
“A good day to you, Master Constable. What is your business here this fine Saturday?” Cuthbert Burbage greeted him as he came forward.
His brother raised his hands in a helpless gesture.
“Ar’t come to imprison me for defaming the watch then, sir?” asked Burbage stiffly.
Master Drew chuckled with good humor. “Marry, sir, there be not enough prisons in the entire kingdom wherein to imprison everyone who makes jest of the constable and his watch.”
“Then what—?”
“I am seeking one Tom Hawkins.”
Burbage groaned aloud. “What has he done? He is due on stage in an hour or so, and I fear we have no competent understudy. Do not tell me that you mean to arrest him? On what grounds?”
“I come not to arrest anyone… yet. Where is Master Hawkins?”
“Not here as yet.”
Master Drew looked round. There were a few people in corners of the theater, apparently rehearsing lines. “What play are you rehearsing?” he asked with interest.
“Will Shakespeare’s Famous History of the Life of King Henry VIII.”
“Ah, that is a play that I have not seen.”
“Then you would be most welcome to stay….”
“Does Master Hawkins take part in this play?”
“He does, for he is Cardinal Campeius,” came Burbage’s immediate response. “It is a part of medium tolerance, a few lines here and yonder.”
“The elderly harassed-looking doorman approached Burbage. “I declare, Master Richard, that the fools have not sent us gunpowder. What shall I do?”
Burbage took an oath by God and his angels that all except himself were incompetent fools and idlers. “Go directly to Master Glyn s gunsmithy across the street and take a bucket. Return it filled with gunpowder, and tell Master Glyn that I will pay him after this evening’s performance.”
The old man went scurrying off.
“Gunpowder?” Master Drew frowned. “What part has gunpowder to do in your play?”
Burbage pointed to the back of the theater. “We have mounted a small cannon in one of the boxes on the second floor. The box will not be hired out during any performance.”
“And what will this cannon do, except blow the players to kingdom come?” demanded the constable wryly.
“Not so, not so. In act two, scene four, we have a grand scene with everyone on stage and the king and his entourage enters, with princes, dukes, and cardinals. It is a grand entrance, and Will Shakespeare calls for a sennet with divers trumpets and cornets. I thought to add to the spectacle by having a royal salute fired from a cannon. It will just be the ignition of the gunpowder, of course, but the combustion shall be explosive and startle our dreaming audience into concentration upon the action!”
Master Drew sniffed. “I doubt it will do more than cause them to have deafness and perhaps start a riot out of panic for fear that the papists have attacked the theater.” He was about to settle down to wait for Tom Hawkins when he had a further thought. “In truth, turning to concentration reminds me that I would have you set your mind upon a youth whose description I shall presently give.” He quickly sketched the description of the youth whose body they had fished out of the river.
Richard Burbages reaction was immediate. “God damn my eyes, Master Constable, I have been searching for that miscreant since this morning. He failed to turn up at the rehearsal, and I have had to give his part to his friend. Where is the execrable young rogue?”
“Dead these past twelve hours, I fear.”
Richard Burbage was shocked. He clapped his hand to his head. But the main reason for his perturbation was soon apparent. “A player short! If ever the gods were frowning on me this day…”
“I would know more about this boy…,” insisted the constable. Richard Burbage had turned to wave to a man who had just entered the theater.
Master Drew recognized Richard Burbage’s brother, Cuthbert, immediately.
“A good day to you, Master Constable. What is your business here this fine Saturday?” Cuthbert Burbage greeted him as he came forward.
His brother raised his hands in a helpless gesture.
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