Tamburlaine Must Die Read Online Free PDF Page A

amongst the finest of actors, he haunts the literary world
hoping to soak talent into his bones and foist his poetry onto
readers. Where better to search for my frustrated wordsmith than
amongst books? I spied him at last, deep in conversation with a grave
and greying scholar and drew close enough to hear the old man
bluster.

    `I
am not obliged to buy a book simply because I put my hand upon it.'

    Blaize
is long-faced, with large teeth and a high forehead topped by a
question mark of a fringe. His dark eyes and high cheekbones have
earned him the nickname of the Viper, but it was a satire on his soft
nature as much as his dark looks. Now he bared his teeth in a smile
and leaned towards the customer.

    `I've
no quarrel with that.' The smile grew wider as Blaize raised his
voice in loud conversation as only an actor can. His words travelled
across the churchyard and booksellers and browsers turned towards the
commotion. `There are many fine books in the world.' He turned stage
sinister and held up the volume in question, a slim green-bound book
of verse I recognised as my friend's sole publication. `I just wish
to know what it was about this particular one that made you discard
it?

    The
old man took a step back.

    `I
have already said, it was nothing in particular.' He huffed a little,
looking for a reason that might free him of this pest. `Perhaps it
was the colour of the boards.'

    Blaize
examined the book, raising it to the light, neatly side-stepping a
lunge from the ruffled bookseller whose property it was. A few
titters echoed around the bookstalls. Other days I would have joined
in the merriment, but now I wondered that he could jest with Kyd
racked and his closest friend contemplating Newgate. My heart
hardened as I watched him appeal to the audience.

    `What
is wrong with these boards?

    The
elderly man took another step backwards, but a small crowd had formed
and he found himself hemmed in.

    `They're
rather dark. I fancy I like a brighter sort of cover.'

    He
turned to go but the audience were enjoying the show and no one made
way for him. Blaize raised his large hands behind the man's back as
if, consumed by rage, he was about to grab the ignoramus and hurl him
across the churchyard. He lowered his arms with slow theatricality,
mugging desperate expressions, emphasising the strength required to
restrain himself. The crowd laughed. The elderly man turned towards
his tormentor as if scalded, but Blaize was once more composed and
complaining.

    `I
saw you open the volume before replacing it. You perused a page,
raised your eyes to the ceiling, then slammed it shut quite abruptly.
There was a look on your face, a look of ...' he hesitated, `a look I
can't describe.'

    The
man regarded him with exasperation.

    `Then
perhaps it was the print, it is after all rather small and I am a man
of middle years. Or, perhaps it was that the author seemed unable to
describe all that he wished.'

    The
crowd greeted this sally with laughter. Blaize acknowledged his
rival's hit, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded.

    `Sir,'
he said when the merriment had subsided. `I am going to make you a
present of this book.'

    The
customer backed away.

    `I
can't accept a gift from a stranger.' `There is no obligation in
accepting a book from its author, except to read it.'

    The
man looked like this might be the kind of obligation he feared.
Someone shouted, `You've had enough sport from the old fellow. Don't
torture him with your poetry.'

    There
was more laughter and a flash of genuine irritation crossed my
friend's face. He recovered quickly and held up a hand against more
interruptions.

    `Now,'
Blaize went on, `I take it you are a regular visitor to St Paul's?
The man nodded, tentatively. `I am also here most days perusing the
stalls. When we next meet you can tell me what you think on this book
and whether you were wise to so lightly pass it by ...'

    Perhaps
he saw me from the corner of his eye or maybe he felt the weight of
my