Nicholas and Bess - part 4

[girlyswot]

Act One, Scene One. 

On board a ship of Her Majesty's Navy, in the Mediterranean Seas.

                The words were flowing now.  It was a tale of a young lad, run away from home who had by chance ended at sea.  There was a girl at home, even younger than he, who cared too much for him.  There was a great battle scene, a storm, a shipwreck on a foreign shore.  The natives were unfriendly and kept the few surviving sailors imprisoned in their castle, hoping they might prove valuable hostages.  A great escape plan must be devised.  Nick chewed his pen over this for some minutes working out the practicalities of achieving this on stage.  He decided that the balcony might be supposed to lead down to the trapdoor somehow and enlisted a friendly serving-maid to ease his hero's passage.  His men escaped the castle with but small injuries only to find themselves lost and alone in a strange land with no ship to run to.  For some scenes he had the men quarrel amongst themselves, refusing to submit to any leaders amongst them.  Some preferred to find the authorities in the land and give themselves up; others suggested that a means of escape by land might be practicable, always supposing they knew what land this was.  Finally, Nick's hero, whom he had named Jason, took charge of the small band, by virtue no less of his character than of his skill with the sword.  He organised his troop into building a boat in which they might sail to find, if not a more hospitable land, another English ship.  Stores were amassed by stealth, water barrels fashioned, sails filched from the wreck of their old ship discovered still lying on the shore.  Eventually they went to sea once more, passing an equally perilous journey, stopping frequently in small coves to replenish their always meagre stores.  Weeks of this passed when finally a sail was sighted which proved a friendly one, an English vessel, heading home.  He laid his final scene in England, at his hero's family home, where the runaway was welcomed in as the prodigal son, though with a greater prize than a ring and a fatted calf.  For he discovered that he had learned to care about his girl as much as she had always done for him and, reunited, they felt no shame in declaring so to all and sundry.

                For three nights, Nick wrote his play.  His fellows noted his tiredness but unusually forebore to comment on it, making sure only that he was where he was expected to be at all times.  He attended rehearsal and performance daily and ate food that was given him mechanically but barely spoke to anyone or seemed even to notice them.

                At the end of the third night, he gratefully added the final words and laid his pen to rest.  He contemplated reading the script through but decided he could not.  If it were good, he would hardly know it himself; if it were not, he could not bear to throw his work on the fire just yet.  Besides, Dickon would be honest with him tomorrow.  No, today.

                At rehearsal that day, it seemed to Nick as though Dickon were never alone.  He must always be in conversation with Ned, or Master Hemings or telling the boys to mind themselves.  And yet, it was surely impossible to approach him while he was with others.  Nick sympathised with Humfrey who had been forced to play his music for the whole company to judge.  He could hardly bear even to have one person look over what he was now sure were hopeless scrawlings.  Then, out of nowhere, Dickon was beside him.

                Quietly he spoke.  'Those scenes done yet, Nicholas?'  Mute, Nicholas nodded and drew his script from his bag to pass it over.  Dickon's eyebrows rose slightly at the size of the package he was given but he made no comment.  'I'll endeavour to read through it tonight.'

                For the fourth night in succession, Nicholas did not sleep.  He lay as still as he could, next Humfrey, determined no-one should suspect how much he minded.  They all entered the rehearsal rooms together and Nick was careful not to look for Burbage.  He got on with his business, finding his props and making jokes with the others.  But when he felt a tap on his shoulder, he knew instantly who it must be and stood up to face him with an impassive face.

                'Come outside with me a moment, Nicholas.  I have two things to say to you.'  God's teeth, thought Nicholas.  Two things?  He thinks I'm a poor player and a worse playwright and he doesn't want to tell me in front of the others in case I make an even bigger fool of myself?

                'First, the play.  It's good, Nick.  There are some rough parts in the dialogue and I have some small suggestions which may improve the staging of it, but it's very good.  For a first attempt, it's excellent.'  He stopped and smiled.  Nicholas, as was his custom when paid a compliment, had flushed a deep red.

                'Thank you, sir.  I had hardly thought to please so well.'

                'Yes, well, as to that, we will see when it is played.  Now the second thing I have to say.  I take it the hero in your play is modelled on yourself?'  Nicholas nodded, biting his lower lip hard for he knew what was coming next.  'And so the young girl whom he leaves behind is my Bess?'  Nicholas did not need to reply now.  'Who loves him more deeply than he loves her?'

                Shamefaced, Nicholas tried to explain his feelings.  'When he left, certainly.  But for him, absence and adventure made many changes and he learned to see what a precious thing her love was and indeed to feel his own for her.'

                'Until he leave his Medea and come face to face with another pretty girl as in the legend?'

                'I... I had drunk too much ale and she was... she was difficult to say no to.'  He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and looked down at the ground.

                'I daresay she was.  But in this business there will always be plenty of girls who are difficult to say no to, and plenty of revel-ale to loosen our morals.  I told you when first you returned you must wait a year for Bess.  Now I tell you to curb your behaviour if you claim to truly love her as she, I daresay, still loves you, undeserving cub that you are.  Do I make myself quite clear?'

                'Yes... Yes, sir.'     

                The company received their copies of the play the first week back in London.  Nick found that he could not overcome his embarrassment at being its author and started to hide everytime someone asked how a particular line should be spoken or what some seafaring term really meant.  Burbage was directing the play and had made, as he had warned Nick, some changes to the original.  Nicholas had been allowed to play Jason, his first leading role as a man and he was anxious to allow Burbage to determine how it should be done. 

                After one especially stilted rehearsal, Dickon came to him and asked him why it had become so difficult.

                'I don't know, Dickon.  Truly, I don't.  I find that when I come to say my lines I can't make them real as I could Will's.  I've tried and tried, at home as well as here and I can't find the trick.  Perhaps you should ask Edmund to take the part.'

                'No, Nick.  This is your part and you must play it.  Listen to me.  You must forget that these are lines you wrote down on a page.  Jason is real, Nick.  He is inside you, he is you.  It will come.'  He turned to climb down from the stage, adding under his breath, 'and pray God it comes soon.'

                Elsewhere things were going well.  The revels office had passed the book without a second glance.  The costumes had been made with minimum of dispute and refitting and everyone but Nick seemed to have understood their parts with ease.  An elaborate contraption had been contrived for the shipwreck which could also serve for the escape scene.  The fights had been planned and could be executed skilfully and safely.  All was ready for the first performance of 'A Perilous Journey 'Twixt Shore and Sea.'