The Alchemist of Souls (Night's Masque, #1)(85)

Speaking of which… Prominent amongst the crowd were the skraylings in their striped and chevroned tunics; they were frequent theatregoers in any case, but today they had turned out in force, perhaps feeling safer for the presence of their ambassador. The foreigners occupied almost the entire top gallery, having been separated from the locals by a thoughtful doorman.

Soon the theatre was packed to bursting. Some of the crowd had noticed the guests of honour in their gallery and begun pointing them out to their neighbours. At that moment, however, their attention was diverted by a rumble of thunder from the gallery. A boy actor, dressed as a Greek goddess in robes of black, walked onto the stage.

"In poenam sectatur et umbra," the actor intoned.

"For punishment, even a shadow pursues," Lord Brooke added, for the ambassador's benefit.

A man dressed as a lion ran on, roaring, and paced to and fro across the front of the stage, clawing in the direction of the audience. Having seen the real lions in the royal menagerie, Mal found the actor's feeble roars singularly unimpressive.

A second actor, dressed in green and carrying a bow, slipped from the other stage door and hide himself behind a canvas bush, whilst the goddess continued her speech in English.

"A Mighty Lion, ruler of the woods,

Of wondrous strength and great proportion,

With hideous noise scaring the trembling trees,

With yelling clamours shaking all the earth,

Traverst the groves, and chased the wandering beasts.

Long did he range amid the shady trees,

And drave the silly beasts before his face,

When suddenly from out a thorny bush–"

The archer leapt out and drew his bow, nocked with an imaginary arrow.

"A dreadful Archer with his bow ybent,

Wounded the Lion with a dismal shaft."

The invisible arrow was loosed, and the lion clutched his chest and fell to the stage with a roar of agony.

"So he him stroke that it drew forth the blood,

And filled his furious heart with fretting ire;

But all in vain he threatened teeth and paws,

And sparkleth fire from forth his flaming eyes,

For the sharp shaft gave him a mortal wound.

So valiant Brute, the terror of the world,

Whose only looks did scare his enemies,

The Archer death brought to his latest end.

Oh what may long abide above this ground,

In state of bliss and healthful happiness."

The archer and lion stood and bowed, and all three actors left the stage.

"What was all that about?" Effingham grunted. "Damned foolish nonsense."

"It was an allegorical masque," Lord Brooke replied. "See, here comes the dying Brutus carried on a chair, and his Trojan courtiers."

Mal left the ambassador and his guests to enjoy the performance, and withdrew a discreet distance along the gallery, where he had a better view of the audience. Many of them were paying more attention to the ambassador than to the play, and their eyes flicked towards Mal from time to time. He returned their gaze levelly, and they soon looked away.

A disturbance in the crowd caught his eye, but it was only a woman fainting. Perhaps the lion had been too much for her, though it was more likely she was overcome by the press of bodies. In truth there was scarcely space for a would-be assassin to draw his pistol, never mind aim it. Mal retreated to the back of the gallery and considered the party gathered around Kiiren. The admiral could have been behind the attack onboard the Ark Royal, but surely that was too obvious even for him? The rest of the party were unknown to Mal. Once again he found himself wishing he had paid more attention to the goings-on at Court. Any one of these men could be in the pay of France, Spain or the Holy Roman Emperor. And he might never find out who until it was too late.

CHAPTER XXII

Coby jogged along Bankside, her hair and clothing uncomfortably damp from the summer drizzle. She had been to the skraylings' camp, only to discover the ambassador had returned to the Tower after all. She took a wherry across the Thames to save time, but was told by the Tower guards that the ambassador had already left for the Rose by coach, in order to arrive before the crowds. For fear of missing them again she took the same route on foot, along Thames Street to London Bridge and thence to Bankside. By the time she arrived, however, the theatre doors had closed and people were being turned away.

"Please, you have to let me in," she said to the doorman. "I have an urgent message for the ambassador's bodyguard."

"Aye, and I'm the Queen of Sheba," the man replied.

"Here, aren't you with Suffolk's Men?" his companion asked. "Clear off. We don't need any of you lot getting anywhere near the judge of this contest."

"That worried, are you?" Coby replied, her impatience getting the better of her.

The man raised two fingers at her and jerked them upwards in the favourite English gesture of defiance.

Coby backed away. She didn't want to get into a fight, and there was no other way into the theatre but past these men. She would have to wait until the ambassador came out, even though it meant missing the afternoon's rehearsals. If this business was as important as Faulkner seemed to think, Master Naismith would have reason to thank her in the end.

She crossed the lane and sat down in the shelter of a large oak tree to begin her vigil.

The rain continued, thin but steady, adding to the ominous atmosphere of the play. Act Two began with more imitation thunder and lightning and another dumb-show narrated by the goddess Ate, in which Queen Andromeda was taken captive by a band of Ethiopians, to the dismay of her husband Perseus. "Divine will rules all" was the motto of this allegory.