Read The Princess of Denmark for Free Online Page A

freezing cold will hold us up. Roads will be like swamps. Rivers will be swollen. Icy winds will get into our very bones.’
    ‘Stop it, Lawrence,’ ordered Gill. ‘My teeth chatter already.’
    He pushed away the remnants of his dinner and reached for his wine. His companions fell silent. The despondent atmosphere that hung over the table pervaded the whole taproom. Actors sagged in their seats or conversed in muted voices. There was none of the happy banter that normally invigorated them. For the sharers – those with a financial stake in the company and who therefore enjoyed a share of its profits – the future was cheerless. For the hired men – jobbing actors employed for individual plays – it was far worse. Being out of work was a form of death sentence forthem. With no wages to sustain them, and with a harsh winter ahead, many would fall by the wayside.
    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 beforeimparting 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