Feud Read Online Free PDF

sighed this time. Then Richard winked cheekily and the Queen laughed and wagged her finger at him.
    “Go to!” she scolded. “You are very forward!”
    “But it suits my purpose,” he said frankly, “for it brings me nearer to Your Majesty.”
    She shook her head. “And I am proof against your charms, Mr. Fitzgrey, though I would delight in seeing you play again. Perhaps something less tragical this time. Have you a comedy to show us?”
    Richard and Tom Alleyn looked at each other.
    “We could play Your Majesty a comedy of Terence, translated by a Cambridge man,” said Alleyn. “But it is not yet worthy of showing.…”
    “Then you may have board and bed at Court untilit is,” said the Queen decisively. “Show it to us in a few days' time. We shall look forward to it.” She held out her hand for them to kiss her ring and they backed away with Tom Alleyn quietly hefting the pouch he held.
    All the Maids were very excited at the prospect of another play, but they were being as quiet as they could, in case the Queen noticed and changed her mind.
    Meanwhile, I was shaking Carmina awake, so she could be ready to follow the Queen from the hall. She was so sleepy I wondered if she had been secretly drinking aqua vitae, as my Uncle Cavendish does. She leaned heavily on my arm as we walked from the hall, and as soon as we were out in the main courtyard, I waved at Mary to help me get her upstairs to her chamber.
    We brought her to the bedchamber she shares with Lady Jane and Penelope, which was tidy since it didn't have Lady Sarah living in it and scattering clothes everywhere. On the table by the bed was a small box of dates stuffed with marchpane, and a bowl of sugared apricots and another of sugar ribbons. Mary and I didn't wait for the tiring woman, but helped Carmina out of her raiment quickly and got her straight into bed without even changing hersmock, since she was so tired. Mrs. Champernowne arrived just as Mary was tucking Carmina up and I was putting more wood on the fire.
    “Dear me,” said Mrs. Champernowne, frowning anxiously, as she felt Carmina's forehead. “Carmina, my dear, I have brought you a little bowl of bread-and-milk with sugar and nutmeg. Could you eat some, perhaps?”
    Carmina sat up against the pillow and took the spoon, but only ate a tiny bit before she put the spoon down again. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I just can't. My stomach feels odd. Mayhap Grace could pass me one of the sugared apricots …”
    Mrs. Champernowne held the bowl for her and she took one, nibbled it, and then lay down again.
    “Hm,” said Mrs. Champernowne, feeling Carmina's forehead once more as if she didn't really believe what she felt.
    “There's no fever,” said Mary Shelton quietly, “or I would have sent for the doctor myself.”
    “Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Champernowne. “But we shall call him anyway if she is no better in the morning, look you.”
    When we got back to our own chamber, we found Penelope, Lady Jane, and Lady Sarah all twittering over the play. Soon Penelope and Sarah werediscussing how desperately dashing and tragical Richard Fitzgrey was in the death scene.
    “Such a pity he isn't really a lord,” Lady Sarah said with a sigh. “He looks wonderful. I wonder how well he can ride.”
    “I liked him when he was all wounded and pale and the princess was nursing him without knowing who he really was,” Penelope said.
    I think they are all Bedlam mad over him.
    “Such a pity as a player he will never be rich,” continued Lady Sarah. “If he were a soldier or a sailor, he could sack a city, make his fortune, and then the Queen could make him a lord.”
    “Rich!” Lady Jane clucked. “As it is, he'll be lucky if he never gets put in gaol or whipped for vagrancy.”
    The churchmen say that players are only one step removed from beggars, but they don't look like vagrants.
    “Did you know he can read and write?” said Mary. “I suppose he has to, so he can learn all the long