Название: The Darling Strumpet
Автор: Gillian Bagwell
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007443307
isbn:
“I wish I could see it.” Nell looked up at him, hope shining in her eyes.
“And so you can,” Lacy said. “Even better, come to our rehearsal tomorrow. Then you can say you saw it before any in London.”
Nell gave him a happy grin and danced off to find Jimmy Cade. By the time she returned downstairs, most of the actors had left. She longed to hear more about the theatre and couldn’t wait until she could follow up on Lacy’s invitation.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT MORNING, NELL WOKE TO FIND THAT THE INSIDES OF HER thighs were streaked with blood, and she threw a fervent thank-you heavenward upon discovering that Rose had also started her monthly courses, and so they would both be excused from work and free to watch the King’s Men rehearse.
Shortly before ten o’clock, they arrived at what had formerly been Gibbons’s Tennis Court in Vere Street, only a few minutes’ walk from Lewkenor’s Lane. Nell had heard that the place, just off the southwestern corner of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, had been for some time a resort of the gentry and nobility, offering not only tennis and bowls but the highest quality victuals and drink, sheltered gardens, and a large coach house.
Nell looked around excitedly as Harry welcomed them into the new playhouse. The high-ceilinged room was flooded with sunlight from the rows of windows at the backs of the galleries that lined the two long walls of the building. Knots of men and boys huddled and bustled in preparation for the morning’s work, and with a thrill Nell recognised many of the actors she’d seen the previous evening.
“It will be the finest theatre that London has seen,” Harry said. “Much better than the Red Bull.”
“Why?” Nell asked.
“It’s a proper building, not just a yard open to the wind and rain. Less than fifty feet from the stage to the back of the house, so the actors will not have to shout to make themselves heard. It’ll be more like playing at court in the old days.”
“Very fine,” Rose agreed.
“You’re looking fine yourself this morning,” Harry said with a wink. “Come, let’s have a closer look.” He pulled her into the shadows under the gallery at the back of the theatre, and Nell took the opportunity to wander closer to the stage, where Wat Clun was in conference with one of the younger actors. He grinned as Nell approached.
“Well, I see you’ve come to join us. What do you think of the place?”
“It’s grand,” Nell beamed. A raised stage at one end of the room sloped down a little from the darkly panelled back wall with its two doors, to within a few feet of the first row of green-upholstered benches. Candles in many-armed brackets were mounted along the galleries at the sides of the stage, reminding Nell of the light that had blazed forth from the Banqueting House on the night of the king’s return.
“Come,” Harry called. “It’s about time.” A handful of people were seated on the benches in the pit before the stage, but Harry led Nell and Rose up narrow steps to the upper gallery at the back of the theater.
“Boxes for gentlemen,” he said. “Much more comfortable than below.”
“To your beginners, please.” Nell looked down to where a man with a sheaf of papers before him on a table was calling to the actors. They disappeared through the doors at the back of the stage, and silence fell. Harry pulled Rose onto his lap and she giggled. Nell wondered how they could think of anything else when the play was about to begin.
A group of actors swept onto the stage with an air of regal gravity. They seemed to be wearing their own clothes, but had bits and pieces of what Nell thought must be their costumes. A grey-haired actor that she recognised from the previous night wore a heavy robe of red velvet and a crown, so he must be the king. Some of the others wore capes or had swords hanging at their sides.
The king glanced around at the men surrounding him, and spoke.
“So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenced in strands afar remote ….”
Nell was enthralled by the majestic words, and strove to understand them. To her relief the next scene was much easier to follow, and funny. Wat lumbered onto the stage, a huge tankard in his paw, stretched luxuriously, scratched his arse, and demanded of the fair-haired young actor who followed him, “‘Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?’”
“‘What a devil hast thou to do with the time of day?’” the youth cried. “‘Unless the blessed sun himself was a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of day!’”
Nell thought she had never seen anything so funny as the picture of virtuous outrage on Wat’s face.
“Look at him,” she chortled to Rose and Harry. “Like a great round baby caught with stolen sweetmeats.”
Her heart skipped a beat when Charles Hart strode onto the stage in the next scene, his dark eyes full of snapping fire, and she feared for his safety when he raged at the king, his deep voice seeming to shake the walls as he cried, “‘My liege, I did deny no prisoners!’”
When Harry Percy, in the person of Charles Hart, made ready to depart for the war and took tender leave of his wife, played by a young man, as true-to-the-life a woman as any that Nell had ever seen, she felt her own soul ache for his going.
When the rehearsal was done, Nell sat still for a few moments, not wanting to let go of what she had experienced. She felt drained and yet exhilarated, and as if she was changed in some way. In the course of the three hours she had felt herself consumed with the passions of the king, the prince, of Harry Percy and his wife, of fat Sir John Falstaff and all the rest, had felt as though she herself had lived through all their griefs, their rages, and their joys. She did not want to leave the charmed atmosphere of the playhouse. She lingered to watch as the actors gathered on the benches below, and was overjoyed when Wat Clun waved at her. Dragging Rose after her, she bounded down to where he stood and beamed up at him.
“Well, sweeting, and what did you think of your first play?” he asked.
“It was a wonder! You were so funny!”
Clun grinned.
“Come to see Beggars’ Bush tomorrow afternoon. It’ll be our last show at the Bull.”
“Truly?” Nell cried. “Can we, Rose?”
“Aye,” Rose nodded. “We’ll not miss such a kind offer.”
ON THE WAY HOME, NELL CAPERED BESIDE ROSE, HOPPING ON ONE leg in circles around her sister and then coming alongside.
“I thought the prince was wondrous,” СКАЧАТЬ