‘Preparations are almost complete.’
‘In so short a time?’
‘There’s no point in delay,’ said Lord Westfield. ‘Once I made the decision to take my company with me, it was simply a case of leaving the arrangements to Nicholas Bracewell.’
‘And who might he be?’
‘An estimable fellow in every way. Though he is only the book holder with Westfield’s Men, he virtually carries them on his broad shoulders. He is our talisman. What he has done in the course of one week is extraordinary.’
‘A remarkable man, clearly,’ said Harling.
‘And he has one outstanding quality.’
‘What is that?’
‘He is a born sailor,’ said Lord Westfield, ‘and we need someone like him to comfort us on the voyage. Nicholas is the son of a Devon merchant. He went to sea with his father many times.’
‘Only across the English Channel, I daresay. I can tell you from experience that the North Sea is far more perilous.’
‘Do not talk of peril to Nicholas Bracewell.’
‘Why not?’
‘In younger days, he sailed around the word with Drake. He survived storms and tempests, the like of which we can only imagine. The North Sea holds no fears for such a man.’
‘I look forward to meeting him, my lord.’
‘I reserve my anticipation for my dearest Sigbrit.’
Although he knew every detail of her countenance from incessant study of the miniature, Lord Westfield took it from his pocket yet again and looked in wonderment at her. They were dining together in his favourite tavern and he was anxious for events to move as swiftly as they could.
‘You’ve written to her uncle?’
‘My letter will have arrived by now.’
Lord Westfield was worried. ‘We may have set sail before his reply comes. Oh!’ he cried, slapping his leg with a petulant hand, ‘is there anything more vexing than the tyranny of distance?’
‘Have no fears,’ Harling told him.
‘But I need to know that I am expected and wanted.’
‘You are, my lord, I assure you.’
‘Supposing that she has changed her mind? Or fallen ill and is unable to go through with the marriage? Supposing that I do not please her enough?’
‘You are all that she could wish for,’ said Harling, sampling the Madeira wine in his glass. ‘Her uncle and I took every aspect of the marriage into account. We do not leave for another ten days. There is no chance that his reply will fail to reach me.’
‘What if the ship should miscarry before it reached our shore?’
‘Even then, we would have no reason for alarm.’
‘I need to see her acceptance in the form of a letter.’
‘And so you shall, my lord — when we reach Flushing.’
‘Flushing?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ explained Harling. ‘Our vessel first calls there. I took the precaution of having any letters for you from Denmark sent to the governor’s home in Flushing. They will not even have travelled by sea but been carried overland by couriers.’
‘What a clever fellow you are, Rolfe!’
‘I did not want any correspondence to go astray. All that we have to do is to call on Sir Robert Sidney and retrieve any letters.’
‘You have put my mind at rest.’ After glancing at the portrait once more, he slipped it back into his pocket. ‘All things proceed to a successful outcome.’
‘I think you will find that every detail has been considered.’
‘And we will be housed in the castle?’
‘Kronborg Slot awaits you.’
Lord Westfield blinked. ‘Where?’
‘It’s what they call the castle in Elsinore.’
‘I could want a more mellifluous name for a place where I will marry the most beautiful creature in the world. However, if it contents Sigbrit, I’ll raise no complaints. Will the king be in residence?’
‘He’ll be sure to attend the ceremony,’ said Harling, ‘and he will certainly not miss any performances given by your troupe. English players have visited Demark before with distinction.’
‘Lawrence Firethorn will outshine all of them.’
‘Even he will take second place to Sigbrit Olsen.’
‘I’ll be fast married to her before I let him near her,’ said Lord Westfield with a grin. ‘Lawrence has an eye for the ladies. When absent from his wife, he has been known to seek pleasure elsewhere. But not from my Sigbrit — she is one woman he will never ensnare.’
‘How many performances will your company give?’
‘As many as they can.’
‘They will be in demand at Kronborg Slot and in the town of Elsinore itself, I daresay. And if King Christian admires them — as he is certain to do — he may well invite them to play in Copenhagen.’
‘What do you know of this new king?’
Harling pondered. ‘He is well-educated, ambitious and far-sighted,’ he said at length. ‘His mother was Sophie of Mecklenburg so he speaks perfect German. His father, King Frederick II, was a man of strong convictions and had an interest in the arts. His son shares that interest. Until his coronation earlier this year, the country was under a regent. King Christian IV has succeeded to the throne with the fire of youth in his veins.’
‘You seem unduly well-informed, Rolfe.’
‘I have travelled widely in Europe. One picks up all the gossip.’
‘This is more than gossip.’
‘When I was in Copenhagen,’ explained Harling, ‘I found out all I could. You must remember that I am a scholar at heart. I’ve been trained to gather all the evidence before reaching a judgement.’
‘I have been the beneficiary of your thoroughness.’
‘You paid me well.’
‘No man can set a price on happiness.’
‘I like to render good service.’
‘And so you did,’ said Lord Westfield, raising his glass. ‘I toast my future wife — the divine Sigbrit Olsen!’
‘Sigbrit Olsen,’ echoed Harling as they clinked glasses.
‘She will be so thrilled with my wedding present.’
‘Which one, my lord?’
‘My theatre company, of course,’ said the other.
‘Ah, yes.’
‘What other bridegroom could turn up at the altar with the finest troupe in Europe at his side? And there’ll be another surprise for her, Rolfe.’
‘Will there?’
‘Westfield’s Men are to perform a play in her honour.’
‘What is it called?’
‘What else, man? The Princess of Denmark.’
‘But there is no such play in our stock,’ said Owen Elias, ‘and even someone with as fluent a pen as Edmund’s could not write one in the short time before we leave.’
‘Nevertheless, we will perform The Princess of Denmark.’
‘How can we, Nick, when she does not even exist?’
‘But she does,’ said Nicholas, ‘hidden beneath another name.’
‘Well, I do not know what it is.’
‘Think hard, Owen.’
The two of them were in Elias’s lodging and the Welshman was eager for any information relating to their imminent trip abroad. As a sharer and as one of the company’s most versatile actors, he was among the first to be listed among those making the voyage. Others had been less fortunate and it had fallen to Nicholas Bracewell to pass on the bad tidings to many of the hired men who served the troupe. It had been an ordeal for him. Bitter tears had been shed and heartbreaking entreaties made but he had no authority to alter the decisions that had been made. Having at last finished his thankless task, he had called in on his friend.
‘Do you remember our visit to Prague?’ asked Nicholas.
Elias was rueful. ‘I am hardly likely to forget it,’ he said, ‘and neither is Anne. She was abducted in the city.’
‘What was the title of the play we performed at the wedding?’
‘The Fair Maid of Bohemia.’
‘No, Owen.’
‘It was — I swear it.’
‘What the audience thought they saw was a play of that name,’ said Nicholas. ‘In fact, what they were watching was The Chaste Maid of Wapping, an old comedy new-minted by Edmund to give it the sheen of novelty. He will use the same trick again.’