Shakespeare's Spy Read Online Free PDF

stood. Despite the cold, the authorities had sentenced some poor wight to stand there with his arms and neck imprisoned. He appeared more prosperous and respectable than the usual occupant of the pillory. He twisted his stiff neck to give us abeseeching look. “I don’t suppose I could prevail upon you to do me a small favor?”
    “Such as setting you free?” Sam suggested.
    The man tried to grin, but it was more in the way of a grimace. “I wouldn’t refuse. But what I’d really like is for someone to wipe my nose. There’s a kerchief in the pocket of my cloak.”
    Sam retrieved the kerchief and then swiped the man’s cold-reddened nose several times. “You don’t look like a vagrant to me. What did you do to earn this?”
    “Nothing wicked, I assure you. I’d move on now, if I were you. You don’t want to be seen talking to me. They may think I’m attempting to convert you.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    Sal Pavy spoke up unexpectedly, and his voice still carried a load of spite. “He means he’s a Papist.”
    “A Catholic? I didn’t ken they punished a wight just for that.”
    Sam leaned in close to him and whispered, “You’re not a
priest
, are you?”
    “Hardly. Only a printer who was unwise enough to publish a few rather harmless pamphlets defending the old faith.”
    Sam gave the man’s nose a last wipe and returned the kerchief to him. As we turned down Fenchurch Street, Sam said, “It doesn’t seem right, does it, him being put in the stocks just for printing a few pamphlets?”
    “Not just any pamphlets,” Sal Pavy pointed out. “
Papist
pamphlets.”
    Sam snickered. “I’ll wager you can’t say that quickly three times in a row.”
    “Yes, yes, make a jest of it, as always. You’ve not been exposed to Catholics, as I have.”
    “Oh, you’ve
exposed
yourself to them, have you?”
    “Stop it, Sam,” I put in. “Can’t you tell when you’ve touched a sore spot?” I turned to Sal Pavy. “What crow do you have to pull wi’ them, then?”
    He scowled at me. “
What?
”
    “I mean, what’s given you such a poor opinion of them?”
    “I’ll say no more. You’ll only mock me.” Yanking his cloak tightly about him, he again put several paces between himself and us.

5
    I had no strong feelings about Papists, one way or another. In truth, I knew very little about the old faith except that it had fallen out of favor many years before, when Queen Mary, a staunch Catholic, died and left the throne to her half sister Elizabeth, the present queen.
    My personal experience with Catholics was limited as well. In fact, I had known but two. One was Jamie Redshaw, who for a time had claimed to be my father. He had later done his best to convince me otherwise. As with La Voisin’s predictions, I was left wondering what the truth was. Reason told me to believe one way; hope inclined me in the other.
    My other Catholic acquaintance was the playwright Ben Jonson. Mr. Jonson had been working mainly for the Admiral’s Men, but the company’s manager, Philip Henslowe, had refused to produce his latest play,
Sejanus
, on the grounds that it was full of pro-Catholic sentiments. Mr. Jonson had proceeded to offer the play to the Lord Chamberlain’s Men. Our company’ssharers had agreed to perform it, provided that he tone down the Papist propaganda. Mr. Jonson had spent the past week or so resentfully revising it.
    When we set out for the Cross Keys on Monday morning, Sam tried again to talk me into crossing on the ice, and again I insisted on going by way of the bridge. He shook his head in disgust. “You know what your trouble is? You’ve no sense of adventure.”
    As we entered the courtyard of the inn and climbed the stairs to the rooms our company rented, Will Sly leaned over the railing above us. Will was one of our hired men—a step above us prentices, and a step below those who owned shares in the company. “Widge, Mr. Shakespeare’s been asking after you. He’s in the