A Play of Isaac Read Online Free PDF

“It seemed a rude thing to say to their faces, especially considering we know nothing actually ill against them. Haven’t you said it’s better to let others do wrong to us than to do wrong first?”
    “Hm. A point well taken.” Master Penteney returned his heed to Basset. “You see, when raising a son to follow you, it’s ever a peril that he may learn to follow so well he never learns to lead. Therefore, I’ve encouraged him to argue with me.”
    “Sometimes and by your leave,” Master Richard said.
    “And sometimes without my leave,” his father returned.
    “But we’re more private about those,” Master Richard said, smiling.
    Master Penteney returned his smile. “Granted.” He turned back to Basset. “By the time you’ve brought the rest of your folk, we’ll have a place ready for you and I dare say Master Fairfield will be waiting.”
    Lewis clapped happily. “I have my players!”
    “You have your players,” Simon agreed and held out a hand. “Now we have to find out Mistress Penteney and tell her about them.”
    “I want to go with them!” Lewis protested.
    “No,” Master Penteney said firmly. “Go with Simon now.”
    “They have to fetch the other players,” Simon said, going to take Lewis by an unwilling hand. “They have to go for Piers.”
    “Piers!” Lewis said, delighted.
    “And we’re going to tell Mistress Penteney about them,” Simon repeated. “So come on now.”
    Lewis went peaceably enough then. When the door had shut behind them, Master Penteney said to Basset, “Thank you for your kindness to Master Fairfield. It’s appreciated.”
    Basset bowed. “As is your kindness to us.”
    “We’re both well satisfied then. Richard will see you out, please you.”
    It was a gracious dismissal and Basset took it graciously, he and Joliffe both making deep bows before following Master Richard from the room and through the great hall. He left them in the porch and they went on by themselves, across the yard and through the gateway, Joliffe waiting until they were to the street, to say, “It looks like we’ve landed on our feet this time and no mistake.”
    “It does indeed,” Basset agreed. “I’ll light a candle to St. Genesius for it.” The patron saint of players, beheaded in ancient Rome after suddenly converting to Christianity in the middle of a play—part of the miracle being that his fellow players had not martyred him for spoiling the performance, before ever the Roman lords laid hands on him.
    As they went back toward the inn, Joliffe kept curbed his curiosity at what he had seen pass between Basset and Master Penteney. Curbing curiosity was a necessary courtesy most players kept among themselves. A company of players lived too much together to go asking questions about things someone else might not want to tell. Whatever their lives had been before they joined a company, they mostly knew no more about each other than what each one chose to say by chance or purpose, and mostly it was better that way. Assuredly there were things in Joliffe’s life he was content that neither Basset nor anyone else should ever ask about or know. Leaving Basset to his own secrets was the least he could give in return.
    Besides, if he asked something that he shouldn’t, Basset would likely flay him front and back and down both sides with a few very well chosen words. Best not to give him the chance.
    At the inn they found that Rose and Ellis, because it was always best to keep the company’s belongings safely basketed except when needed, had the company’s wicker hampers packed. With that already done and the good news given, it was the work of merely moments for Joliffe to hitch Tisbe to their cart while Rose, Ellis, and Piers loaded the baskets in and Basset went to make their farewells to Master Norton, who tried to gouge another sixpence out of him but did not get it.
    At the Penteneys they found Lewis waiting in the gateway for them, behind him a man almost as short as