The sense of dejection was almost tangible. Nicholas Bracewell noticed it as soon as he entered the inn. He collected a few nods and words of greeting but none of the raillery for which the actors were famed. When he stopped beside Firethorn’s table, he was met with blank stares from all three men seated around it.
‘I’ve been to see Lord Westfield,’ he announced.
‘Did you tell him that his company is posthumous?’ asked Gill. ‘For that is what we are now — mere ghosts that no longer have any corporeal shape or function.’
‘Speak for yourself, Barnaby,’ chided Firethorn. ‘I am no ghost but a flesh and blood titan. All that I lack is a stage on which to unleash my power.’ He looked at the newcomer. ‘Find a seat, Nick, and tell us the worst. Was our patron shocked by the news?’
‘No,’ replied Nicholas, bringing an empty stool to the table and lowering himself onto it. ‘Lord Westfield was not shocked.’
‘Horror-struck, then?’
‘No, Lawrence.’
‘Alarmed?’
‘Not even that.’
Hoode was puzzled. ‘Lord Westfield is not insensible,’ he said. ‘When you told him about the fire at the Queen’s Head, he must have expressed some emotion.’
‘He did, Edmund.’
‘Anguish — fear — disappointment?’
‘None of those things.’
‘I do not believe it,’ said Gill irritably. ‘You’ll be telling us next that he was glad his company were driven out of their home by the blaze. Let’s have no more of this jest, Nicholas. It’s in poor taste.’
‘It’s no jest, I assure you,’ Nicholas promised. ‘Our patron was sad that we had been evicted from the Queen’s Head but he was far from crestfallen. He saw it as an Act of God.’
‘Except that God, in this instance, went by the name of Will Dunmow for it was he who started the fire that ruined us. Act of God, indeed!’ said Gill, clicking his lips. ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense.’
‘Lord Westfield thinks otherwise.’
‘Was he not even upset at our loss?’ said Firethorn.
‘To some degree.’
‘Does he want us swept from the boards?’
‘Of course not,’ replied Nicholas, ‘but, given the situation, he is quick to take advantage of it.’
‘Advantage!’ howled Firethorn. ‘What advantage?’
‘I see none,’ said Gill. ‘You are teasing us, Nicholas.’
‘I would never do that,’ said the book holder.
‘Then stop speaking in riddles,’ urged Hoode. ‘The troupe is a credit to our patron. We bear his name and proclaim his status. Since we are the best company in London, we add lustre to Lord Westfield. Can he sit calmly by and watch all that cast away?’
‘No, Edmund,’ said Nicholas. ‘He would never do that. He has our best interests at heart.’
‘Then why is he not as downcast as the rest of us?’
‘For two reasons.’ He took a deep breath before imparting the news. ‘First, Lord Westfield is to marry.’
Firethorn was astounded. ‘Marry?’ he exclaimed. ‘That old goat? Why does he need to take another wife when he can enjoy all the pleasures of marriage without one?’
‘I did not know that there were any pleasures in marriage,’ said Gill, a man who looked upon any relations between the two sexes with a jaundiced eye. ‘The love of man for man is the only source of true happiness.’
‘How would you know, Barnaby? The only man you ever loved is yourself. You’ve spent a whole lifetime courting mirrors. But no more of that,’ he went on, turning back to Nicholas. ‘Are you in earnest?’
‘Never more so,’ said the other.
‘Who is the lady?’
‘Her name is Sigbrit Olsen.’
‘A foreigner?’
‘She lives in Denmark and comes from good family.’
‘Whatever possessed him to marry a Dane?’
‘She is a lady of exceptional beauty. I saw her portrait.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Still young, Lawrence.’
‘I can understand Lord Westfield pursuing her,’ said Hoode, ‘but what does he have to offer a Danish beauty? Nobody could call him handsome and he relishes every vice in the city.’
‘Not all of them,’ murmured Gill to himself.
‘He means to mend his ways,’ said Nicholas. ‘As to what must have attracted her, I would have thought it was obvious — he is wealthy since his brother’s death, he has a title and he has us.’
‘Westfield’s Men?’
‘Our reputation goes before us, Edmund. It seems that her uncle — and it is he who has brokered this match — saw us perform when we played at Frankfurt as we travelled across the Continent. He had never forgotten the event and has filled his niece’s ears ever since with tales of our excellence.’
‘That’s gratifying to hear,’ said Firethorn, ‘but the lady is not being asked to wed us. She will be sharing a marriage bed with our patron, an ageing voluptuary.’
‘Just like you, Lawrence,’ remarked Gill nastily.
‘I resent that jibe.’
‘Truth is always painful.’
‘Nothing could be more painful than the sight of your repulsive face, Barnaby. It’s a monument to sheer ugliness.’
‘Many people account me well-featured.’
‘Blindness is a terrible handicap.’
‘You are at it again,’ scolded Hoode, pushing them apart with his hands. ‘Forbear, both of you. Listen to Nick. I think he has something very important to tell us.’
‘I do,’ confirmed Nicholas.
‘You said that there were two reasons why Lord Westfield was not as worried as he might have been. What’s the second?’
‘Our loss is his gain, Edmund.’
‘Could you speak more plainly?’
‘You are all very slow to pick up my meaning,’ said Nicholas, amused by their bafflement. ‘In short, the position is this. Since our patron means to marry — and since his future wife is fond of the theatre — he intends to take us with him.’
Firethorn gaped. ‘Take us where, Nick?’
‘To Denmark.’
‘Is that where the wedding will be held?’
‘Yes, Lawrence. At Kronborg castle in Elsinore.’
‘That’s hundreds and hundreds of miles away,’ complained Gill.
‘It matters not. We are offered work.’
‘But only after an interminable journey.’
‘Why must you always see only the hazards of an enterprise?’ said Hoode, grinning broadly. ‘This is splendid news. We are to perform at the Danish court.’
‘And we will doubtless be invited to show our skills elsewhere,’ said Nicholas. ‘Remember what we discovered on our other visit to Europe. We have no rivals there. English companies excel all else. If we go to Elsinore, we will be feted.’
‘Then we’ll go, Nick.’
‘Nothing would stop me,’ said Firethorn, elated. ‘Westfield’s Men will be the toast of Denmark. We’ll tell you of our many triumphs when we return, Barnaby.’
Gill was disconcerted. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You will be discarded from the company.’
‘But I’ve every right to go.’
‘Earlier on, you said that you refused to stir from London.’
‘True,’ admitted Gill, ‘and I still have qualms about this new venture. But, then, it has its undeniable attractions. A court is my natural home. I flourish before royalty.’
‘We will all flourish,’ said Firethorn, leaping to his feet to address the whole room. ‘Do you hear that, lads?’ he yelled. ‘Cast off your misery. Order more drink. Lord Westfield is to marry and we will perform a play to celebrate the occasion. Kiss your wives and mistresses goodbye, dear friends. We are going to Denmark!’