Man Behind the Façade. June Francis

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      She lifted him up on her knee. ‘I know, sweeting, and I would have risked the highway on our own to take you there, but your father would not allow it. Fortunately, Master Hurst is to escort us, so all is well.’ She kissed his rosy cheek. ‘You do know that you must be on your best behaviour? I do not want Master Hurst regretting his offer.’

      ‘I be good,’ said James, nodding solemnly.

      If only I could believe that, thought Rebecca wryly, aware that four leagues was a long journey for a small boy. Well, she would just have to hope for the best. Few women would like to have two boisterous young ones thrust on them for such a journey, but hopefully this Tabitha would accept the situation without complaint.

      After a breakfast of bread, butter and eggs, washed down with small ale, they made their way outside. The horse was saddled up and, after taking their farewell of their father, the two youngest children were lifted on to the back of the horse by Phillip. He took it upon himself to lead the beast before Rebecca could protest that she was quite able to do that herself. She pecked Simon on the cheek and he slipped several coins into her hand, saying they were for anything the children might need on the journey.

      She thanked him and set out to walk beside the animal with Margaret next to her and Phillip the other side. Elizabeth chattered to her sister in a high voice that informed Rebecca that she was a little nervous about being up on the horse without Rebecca to cling on to.

      They had not travelled far when Phillip suggested that the children might like to hear a story. Instantly they chorused agreement, as did Rebecca, who was far from averse to listening to one of his tales to while away the journey. She was surprised when he launched into the fable of the tortoise and the hare. By the time he had finished they had arrived at the church in Witney and James was clamouring to get down and wanting to be a tortoise.

      ‘And the moral of this story is—?’ asked Rebecca.

      ‘You tell me,’ responded Phillip, raising his eyebrows.

      ‘Don’t be over-confident or look down on others who appear less able than yourself. This isn’t one of your own creations, is it?’

      Phillip’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve heard it before?’

      She nodded. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it was written by a Greek slave hundreds of years ago and you won’t find it in any book written in English.’

      ‘I wager Beth Raventon told you that. I know she stocked a Latin translation in the London shop and she is extremely well read.’

      Rebecca smiled. ‘I wouldn’t deny it. I have a lot to thank Beth for. She has been extremely generous with her time and sharing her books with me.’

      ‘I was told the story by Frederick, who was my mentor when I first left the shipyard. You’ll be meeting him soon and it’ll probably surprise you to hear that Frederick was a scholarly cleric who has travelled widely, including to Greece and its islands. He translated the story for me to turn into a play, as well as some of the Greek tragedies.’

      ‘Tragedies?’ She pursed her lips. ‘There doesn’t sound much to amuse one in such plays.’

      ‘You’d be surprised,’ he said with a grin. ‘There was also comedy in the Greek theatre, but it didn’t really become popular until after the Peloponnesian Wars and was known as the New Comedy.’

      She was impressed. ‘You surprise me, Phillip. I never expected to hear of such from your lips. Do all strolling players know of the Greek plays?’

      ‘No, but I have visited Greece and one of its islands myself,’ he said, doubly taking her by surprise. ‘But some like Frederick studied at Oxford. Here he comes now,’ said Phillip.

      Rebecca turned to see an elderly bald man limping towards them. ‘About time you made an appearance, Pip,’ he grumbled. ‘We need to be on our way. The road will be busy and we don’t want to be held up.’ Even as he spoke, his rheumy eyes were on Rebecca and the children. ‘These are them, are they? They look a motley crew. Let’s get the young ’uns inside the wagon and they’d best behave themselves.’

      Elizabeth gazed up at him nervously and James clung to Rebecca’s skirts and sucked his thumb. ‘Come, children, no need to be frightened of ol’ Frederick,’ said a woman, poking her head out from beneath the canvas flap of the hood. ‘He’s got no authority in here. It’s me that says what’s what.’

      ‘May I introduce Tabitha to you,’ said Phillip, lifting up one of the children. ‘Tabitha, this is Mistress Rebecca…’ he hesitated before adding ‘… Clifton—and her nieces and nephew.’

      Tabitha nodded a welcome as she seized hold of Elizabeth. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mistress Clifton.’

      ‘Thank you for your help,’ said Rebecca hastily, taking in the other woman’s appearance. She was not in the least like how she would have expected a mistress of Phillip’s to look. Beneath a man’s cap, she wore her fair hair frizzed on her forehead and about her ears. She had a fresh complexion and was clad in a garment that appeared to be a man’s shirt. The draw strings at its neck were unfastened to reveal a generous expanse of cleavage. Suddenly there came a baby’s cry from the wagon’s interior and Tabitha jerked her head in that direction. ‘There Edward goes again, but as soon as we get moving he’ll quieten down and won’t be any bother.’

      ‘You have a child?’ blurted out Rebecca. Was it possible that Phillip had fathered a son?

      ‘Aye, has Master Phillip not explained our situation?’

      ‘No, I haven’t, Tabitha,’ said Phillip, glancing at Rebecca. ‘I didn’t see any need for anyone else to know what is your private business.’

      ‘Fair enough,’ said Tabitha. ‘But Mistress Clifton might like babies and will wish to see him, and the children will certainly want to play with my manikins.’

      ‘What manikins?’ asked Elizabeth, clinging on to Tabitha’s shoulder, her eyes alight.

      ‘You’ll see soon enough,’ said Tabitha kindly. ‘Now, what about your little brother?’

      Rebecca was aware of Phillip’s eyes on her. His mention of private business had made her feel the outsider she was, but that did not make it any easier for her to accept. She glanced at the woman’s hands and saw that she wore no ring. The child must be Tabitha’s bastard, but was it Phillip’s? How could Tabitha smile so easily in such a situation and how did she cope with a baby and the travelling life? She allowed Phillip to take James and lift him up, so enabling Tabitha to seize hold of him and hoist him into the wagon.

      ‘Can’t I go in the wagon, too?’ asked Margaret wistfully.

      ‘If you don’t mind being squashed, then you’re welcome,’ said Tabitha, beaming down at her. ‘Here’s Jack and Ned now. We’ll soon be on our way.’

      Margaret stood on the rim of the wheel and was helped up into the wagon. Rebecca turned to her horse, but before she could hoist herself up on to its back Phillip had seized her by the waist and lifted her off her feet and dumped her on the saddle. She was caught unawares, so that she slipped sideways. She jumped as he placed a hand beneath her bottom and pushed her back into the saddle. She had to bite back the rebuke that hovered on the tip of her tongue, hating the thought of his being intimate with the other woman. СКАЧАТЬ