‘You will not find much happiness here, Lawrence,’ said Hoode gloomily. ‘Most of our fellows do not share your optimism.’
‘Then it will have to be beaten into them. Eh, Nick?’
‘A good performance is the best remedy.’
‘Then we will have it,’ vowed Firethorn, punching the air with a clenched fist. ‘By heaven! We’ll set the stage alight with our skills. Mirth and Madness was a travesty. We owe our audience a superlative performance to atone for yesterday’s disgrace. And what better play to offer them this afternoon than The Loyal Subject by a certain Edmund Hoode?’
‘What better play?’ echoed Hoode. ‘The Insatiate Duke.’
‘They’ll have that again, too, before the week is out.’
‘They may have the play, Lawrence, but not the author.’
‘You are the author, Edmund.’
‘I am one of them. The other was Lucius Kindell.’
‘Well?’
‘He has turned traitor.’
‘That is not so,’ said Nicholas, jumping in to prevent Hoode from reciting his mournful news. ‘Lucius is a rising talent who is bound to be courted by our rivals. But he will always choose Westfield’s Men over them, especially when he hears that we are to have our own playhouse.’
‘Will that miracle ever come to pass?’ said Hoode.
‘Yes!’ affirmed Nicholas.
‘No question but that it will,’ added Firethorn. ‘I will strain every fibre of my being to bring it about.’
‘Everybody will do the same,’ said Nicholas. ‘When they see that we have a choice between survival or disappearance, the whole company will rise to the challenge.’
‘That may be so, Nick,’ said Hoode, ‘and you will not find me wanting. But I have grave doubts about our ability to raise the necessary money.’
‘Sylvester Pryde will find most of what we need.’
‘He will not let us down,’ said Firethorn confidently.
‘Then where is he?’ asked Hoode.
‘What?’
‘Sylvester is not here, Lawrence. I was the first to arrive this morning and I can assure you that he has not come in through that gate.’ Hoode shrugged. ‘Nobody likes Sylvester more than I. He is a cheerful companion and a generous friend. But he does too often try to seize attention and ingratiate himself. What if his offer was no more than an idle boast to gain a momentary lustre?’
‘It was made in good faith,’ insisted Nicholas.
‘Then where is he?’
‘Sylvester will be here any moment.’
‘Yes,’ said Firethorn airily, ‘and he will expect to rehearse The Loyal Subject. Let us begin, gentlemen. Nick, gather the whole company into the tiring-house. I’ll put some heart into them and assure them that Westfield’s Men are not destined for the grave.’
Firethorn stalked off but Hoode’s scepticism remained.
‘Where is Sylvester?’ he said.
‘He will be here,’ replied Nicholas.
‘I thought that about Lucius.’
He walked forlornly away. Nicholas went after him and collected all the members of the company into the room at the rear of the stage which was used as the tiring-house. Everyone but Sylvester Pryde was there and his absence was worrying. In his short time with Westfield’s Men, he had been unfailingly punctual. At such a critical time in the company’s fortunes, it was vital for him to be there.
Firethorn spoke to them like a warrior king addressing his army on the eve of battle. There was pure steel in his voice. When he told them about the project to secure a playhouse of their own, heads lifted and frowns vanished. They were also reminded of their shameful performance on the previous day and they resolved to make amends. By the time Firethorn had finished, even the wilting Edmund Hoode and the cynical Barnaby Gill were enthused. They donned their costumes with alacrity.
Yet there was still no sign of Sylvester Pryde. Hiding his concern behind a broad smile, Firethorn took Nicholas aside.
‘Where is the fellow?’ he whispered.
‘I do not know.’
‘Can he be sick?’
‘I think it unlikely.’
‘Still lying in the arms of some woman?’
‘Sylvester has never let anyone distract him before.’
‘Then why is he doing so now?’
‘I have sent George Dart to his lodging in search of him,’ said Nicholas. ‘Meanwhile, I would suggest that we reassign Sylvester’s roles to other members of the company for the rehearsal. Owen Elias and James Ingram can most easily take over those roles and both are experienced at doubling.’
‘Instruct them to that effect, Nick.’
‘I will.’
‘And pray that Sylvester turns up,’ said Firethorn. ‘He must not desert us in our hour of need.’
‘There is no possibility of that.’
Nicholas’s reassurance sounded hollow. Both men were now having serious doubts about Pryde and they knew how important it was to start the rehearsal before those doubts spread throughout the entire company. Busy actors would have no time to brood. When the musicians were in position, therefore, Nicholas gave the signal and the fanfare sounded. Owen Elias stepped out in a black cloak to deliver the Prologue to a couple of ostlers and four curious horses.
They were well into Act Two before a breathless George Dart came staggering into the tiring-house. Nicholas gave the cue for the Queen and her train to make an entry then he beckoned the diminutive figure across to him. The perspiration was running in rivulets down Dart’s face.
‘What news, George?’
‘None that will please you, alas.’
‘Was Sylvester not at his lodging?’
‘No. He left at first light, it seems.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘His landlord did not know. Nor does he understand why Sylvester Pryde quit the house for good.’
Nicholas was shaken. ‘For good, you say?’
‘When he left, he took his belongings with him.’
‘No word of explanation?’
‘None, I fear.’ Dart wiped an arm across his glistening brow. ‘I am sorry I could not bear happier tidings.’
‘You have done well, George. Change into your costume as a guard in the royal retinue and be ready for the first scene in Act Three. Oh, and one thing,’ cautioned Nicholas. ‘Do not mention to anyone that Sylvester has quit his lodging. It might cause unnecessary alarm.’
Dart nodded and went off to find his costume. Nicholas turned his full attention to the rehearsal and put the disappearance of Sylvester Pryde from his mind. There was no point in worrying over a problem he was powerless to solve while he as engaged in his duties as the book holder. It was only when the play came to an end that the subject took on a new urgency. Having thanked the company for the sterling effort which they had put into the rehearsal, Firethorn dismissed them and sought a quiet word with Nicholas.
‘Well?’ he said.
‘Sylvester is still not here.’
‘Where can the man be?’
‘Not at his lodging, that much is certain. He left at dawn and took his belongings with him.’
Firethorn blenched. ‘Has he fled London?’
‘I hope not.’
‘Why else quit his lodging?’
‘I have no idea,’ confessed Nicholas, ‘What surprises me is that he sent no word to us. Sylvester has always been so considerate. This sudden flight is disturbing.’
‘And may bring all our ambitions crashing down,’ said an anxious Firethorn. ‘Without Sylvester, there will be no money. Without that money, there will be no new playhouse. Did he deliberately raise our hopes in order to dash them, Nick?’
‘That would not be in his character.’
‘What is he playing at?’
‘We will discover that in time,’ said Nicholas. ‘Until then, we must not unsettle the others by telling them he has disappeared. I will devise an excuse which will cover his absence.’
‘Your excuse would not fool me for a moment,’ said a voice behind them. ‘However prettily it was phrased.’
They turned to see Barnaby Gill entering the tiring-house.