His Dark Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

answer, but for a countryman like Richard to have dared the long journey to London, he had to want something important. Something connected, Will presumed, to the arrest and imprisonment of Edward Arden.
    He covered his fresh draft of
The Troublesome Reign of King John
with a clean sheet, taking care not to smudge the ink, and sat down beside the brazier, which was still giving out good heat. The rickety stool creaked beneath him, a relic left behind by some previous tenant.
    Richard Arden had not changed much. There were streaks of grey in his beard and a new hardness about his eyes, but Will could have picked him out in a crowd. He still remembered scrumping apples with Richard as a boy, stealing from a neighbour’s orchard and being shown which branches were safe to climb by his older cousin. Will’s father had offered Richard an apprenticeship once, to teach him a trade as a glover. But he had chosen to be a farmer instead, settling north of Stratford, and his life had not been easy. He was smiling now, though, nodding with satisfaction as he set aside his emptied cup of ale.
    ‘So, Shakespeare, I hear you are a player, and make your living on the boards.’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘Your father is short-handed in the shop, and there are complaints about him in the town. Men say he cannot pay his debts, that he dare not even show his face on market days in case the bailiffs see him.’ Richard looked at Will. ‘This play-acting is big business, to be sure, and I imagine the whores are good too. But it’s time for you to get yourself home to Stratford and do your duty there.’
    Will held his breath a moment before answering, not quite trusting himself to be civil. He emptied his last meagre bag of charcoal into the brazier, and hoped that he would manage to finish the play, and Burbage would make good on his offer of payment in the morning, else he would be going cold as well as hungry. The flames began to lick greedily about the fuel.
    ‘You bring this message from my father?’
    ‘Dear God, of course not. John is a good man and will not stir himself to ask you home, however much he hurts. And who can blame him?’ Richard eyed him sharply. ‘A father should not have to beg his son’s help. It should be given freely and without the asking.’
    ‘What trouble is he in this time?’
    ‘The same as before.’ Richard shrugged. ‘Nor is he to be blamed for that, either. John Shakespeare has mouths to feed and must make his living somehow. If that means a few pursefuls change hands at the back door, so be it. The laws would pinch a man to death with taxes these days.’
    He stared into the glowing embers of the brazier and his voice hardened. ‘But the town council cannot turn a blind eye to such back-room handshakes when townsfolk talk of his dealings openly on the street. He has never been one to hold his water, if you catch my meaning.’
    ‘So you’ve come to warn me?’
    ‘Nothing so dramatic, lad. Just to remind you of your duty to your father as his eldest son, and as husband to a loyal and obedient wife. If you have good work here, well and good. It is a husband’s part to support his family. But if you could work as well at home …’
    ‘As well, yes, but not aim as high. There is money to be made in the playhouses.’
    ‘Then make it and stop wasting your time.’ Richard looked about the room, distaste in his face. ‘I’ve seen cleaner shepherd huts than this place. Aye, and cleaner sheep.’
    ‘I am no good housekeeper, it cannot be denied. But if you send word next time you are planning a visit, I’ll make shift to clear the place first.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t intend to make a habit of putting myself in the way of London’s plagues and diseases.’ Richard paused, his expression reluctant. ‘But if you must remain so stubbornly away from home, floating about the filthy taprooms and whorehouses of London, then I have something to ask of you.’
    ‘I have never …’ Will did not bother finishing.