Love Disguised (27 page)

“Your friend was I, Meg de Galle. A woman!”

Will was silent, frowning like a child who thinks himself cheated of a prize.

“We ate and drank together, laughed and roamed the city in search of adventure, and aided each other in danger, did we not?” Meg demanded.

“I thought I did so with Mack, not Meg,” Will protested.

“Of course,” said Meg, exasperated. “Did you ever look closely at Meg? At
me
?” Meg stopped herself from pleading.

“I did. I noted your strength,” said Will. “And I asked for Meg's help that very first night.”

“Yes, but you and I know proper women do not run after thieves or thrash villains. We do not swear or even speak in public. Can you comprehend what freedom you men have that we are denied?”

“Being a woman does not constrain you now,” Will said.

Meg grew aware of a creaking cart, a dog barking, people passing by. Did they mistake her and Will for quarreling lovers? If only an embrace were sufficient to cut through the misunderstanding between them!

“I have grown accustomed to the freedom of these limbs to move and these lips to speak as I please. But now I am only Meg again, which is almost more difficult than to be both Mack and Meg.” She felt herself on the verge of tears.

“You played Mack's part ably,” Will said grudgingly.

Meg managed a dejected smile. “No, for Jane and Violetta saw me fail, and James Burbage knew Mack for a woman the first time he saw me.”

“Did he really?” said Will.

Meg peered at him closely. “When I declared at the trial that I was not Mack de Galle, you did not seem surprised.”

“I played the lawyer's part well, did I not?”

“Aye, but that is not my point. How did you know? And
when
?”

“Old Nick Grabwill came to me the night before your trial and told me a strange story,” said Will. “It was then that I knew.”

“Did you not suspect earlier? Why did you never ask to see Mack's lodgings or insist on meeting him at the Boar's
Head? Did you ever wonder how Meg could have a twin brother identical in all features? Either you believed we were two, or you knew we were one and the same.”

“Ask me no more, for I cannot tell you.” Will's tone was plaintive.

“You can but you will not! I think it was you who played
me
for a fool.” This possibility sent a wave of shame over Meg. She turned away and started across the road only to find herself surrounded by sheep. She shoved her way through their midst, shouting back at Will, “You wanted to see how far I would go just to be in your company. All the while you were deceiving me into thinking that I was deceiving you!”

“O what a tangled web you are weaving,” cried Will. “Like a spider trying to trap me.”

Will plowed through the sheep, scattering them. He reached Meg and took her by the shoulders.

“You wrong me with such accusations, Meg. I did wonder why Mack was so like you. I watched you at the inn and admired your strength, your bold manner, and your wit. But I did not know the truth for certain.” He paused a moment. “And what if I did? You loved every moment you were in disguise. To be truthful, so did I.”

So Will
had
known. It no longer mattered when; Meg was mortified all the same.

“Knowing that I was a woman, you let me debase myself with brawling and drinking?” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “How you must have laughed at my pretense of being a man.”

Will put his hand solemnly to his breast. “No, I never
did. You made a better man than most of my sex. But
you
did laugh at
me
, when I came back with Davy's boots.”

Meg smiled at the thought of Will with his paltry, ruined trophies. “Didn't you long to tell me of yours and Mack's adventures?”

Will raised his eyebrows. “There was no need, for you took part in them.”

Meg buried her face in her hands. “O I am repaid for my deceit and fairly beaten at my own game.” She felt Will's hands on hers and let him uncover her face.

“It was a game that required two players,” he said and joined his palms to hers. Meg felt her heart pulsing all the way to her fingertips.

“Are we reconciled now? Friends again, despite my being a woman?”

“If you were both Mack and Meg, strength and fairness united in one person,” said Will, looking up into her eyes, “then you would be this man's perfect mate.”

“Will, I
am
both Mack and Meg. And I don't mean to seem coy, but methinks you are trying to woo me.”

“Excellent creature, I am,” he said, seizing her eyes with his own and holding her gaze.

Meg's legs turned to jelly. She wobbled, leaning against the fencerow to keep herself standing. Will leaned with her. Was he about to kiss her? Did she not want him to? His hand was touching the front of her neck where her pulse beat. It was almost more than she could bear.

“This is as dangerous as breathing the air during a plague,” said Meg, winking to break Will's gaze.

“What do you mean? Is my breath so foul?” said Will.

“I mean you might infect me with longing,” she said softly, knowing that she must walk no farther with him lest she be drawn, like a moon, helpless into his orbit. She thought of Violetta's wrist encircled by Valentine's hand. Of the Hathaway sisters Will had left to pursue his ambitions. To be held or to be released; both could cause hurt.

She slipped sideways and turned to face the city.

“Were you not on your way to Shoreditch also?” said Will.

“I was. But I am done with disguising.” Meg's voice was barely above a whisper. “Tell Burbage I cannot join his company.”

Will looked stricken. “But I have counted on this! If you do not go, then neither will I.”

“You must, Will Shakespeare. For what else would you do?”

“I can study law. A lawyer feigns like an actor and lies as well as any poet.”

“Foh! I know your ambitions. You would a hundred times rather be a lowly player than a lawyer of the Queen's Bench. Go on without me.”

Will stood his ground. Were they about to have another argument? “And I know you would rather command the stage—as you did the streets and the law court—than wait upon drunkards at the Boar's Head Inn. Come, show the strength of your wit as well as your arm. Don't be afraid.”

Does Will know me so well? Better than I know myself?

“Your will and your heart are one in this,” he said with gentle urgency.

Meg was not used to heeding her heart, which hitherto had demanded so little of her. Was she strong enough to resist its sudden urges?

“You go, Will. Burbage has an idea for a play you must write. I will come and see it performed.” How dull and faint that sounded.

“But it is
you
he wants in his company. Without you he won't hire me.”

“Is that the reason I must accompany you?” Meg said. “Do you mean to use me for your own benefit?”

Will drew back with a hurt look. “Does a poet exploit his muse? Nay, rather he needs her. Meg, do not divide yourself in two; be one true friend of Will Shakespeare.”

Meg felt her heart turning like a flower toward the sun. Her longing to be Will's friend
and
his muse was powerful. But could Will accept her as she was?

“Henceforth the one I must be is Meg the woman,” she said firmly.

“And so you shall be. Do I not remain Will though I play Pyramus or Antony? So you can play a man's role and be no less a woman. You can feign Cleopatra or Caesar and still be yourself, Meg de Galle.”

“What if Burbage will not let me be Meg? A player who is known to be a woman might bring trouble to his company.”

“You said he knew your sex when he offered you employment,” Will countered. “He saw what a good player you will make. I'll warrant you'll cause no more trouble than you can easily handle.” He winked at her.

The sun had climbed to its apex, dispelling the frost into vapor. Will's words melted Meg's cold fear, making her warm and malleable like soft metal. Who would she become with Will at her side offering true friendship—and perhaps more?

It was time to act while she was filled with praise and confidence.
Now, before I lose my Will!

She turned around in the road and with a sweeping motion of her arm said, “Let's dally no more in this common way, but hasten to Shoreditch without delay.”

Will almost had to run to match his stride to hers.

Meg's fears were unfounded. Both she and Will were welcomed into Burbage's company. His best player had suffered a concussion in a brawl and could not even remember his own name, so Will was needed to act as well as write plays. Burbage agreed to Meg's stipulation; thus all the players knew her for a woman and were as courteous to her as their rough natures allowed. Meg liked her fellows, especially Bumpass, the clown with the remarkable ability to produce a hundred different sounds by farting, and Wagstaff, a handsome youth who played all the women's roles. The boy was especially glad of Meg's presence, for he was getting a beard and thought himself ready for a man's role. Little Richard Burbage was his father's factotum. He took quickly to Meg, bringing her sweets and offering to do whatever she asked him. Around him Meg felt like a queen. The only fly in the ointment was Rankin Hightower, whose stage name belied his base origins as the son of a butcher. He fancied himself more talented than anyone, especially Will.

James Burbage kept Meg and Will close to him and daily
maligned the proprietors of the Curtain, a rival playhouse. “He is afraid of them luring us away,” said Will to Meg. “That's how much he regards us.”

“We must prove ourselves worthy of that regard,” said Meg. She hesitated to believe their good fortune, which was compounded by the absence of William Burbage from the playhouse. Meg asked Bumpass where he had gone.

“Just before you fell in with our company, it befell that William and the master had a falling out,” explained Bumpass, miming the act of stumbling.

Meg took up residence in a tiny cottage in Shoreditch while Will shared a room with one of Burbage's employees, a carpenter named Tom Makeshift. By night Will wrote new scenes and by day the actors rehearsed them, vying for the best lines and the most important parts. Only Meg made no demands, for she saw how tense Will was, how desperate to succeed. She memorized all the players' lines, her brain soaking up Will's words as a sponge soaks up water. She knew by listening when a line did not sound just right, but she never said anything to Will. Invariably he would change it.

Three weeks quickly passed and on the seventh day of November, heralded by trumpet and with flags waving atop the amphitheater, Will's
Tragedy of Cleopatra
saw its first performance. The galleries were filled and the groundlings stood shoulder to shoulder. Peering from behind the curtain Meg saw Burbage's wealthy patron, the Earl of Leicester, seated on a gilded chair on the stage. Beside him on stools sat Master Overby and Gwin, looking as proud as royalty. Will had insisted they be thus honored and admitted free of charge because Overby had been deprived of the income from Will's play.
There were several patrons of the Boar's Head in the audience. Violetta—for Meg still thought of her by that name—and Thomas Valentine waved from the second gallery. Among the groundlings stood Jane Ruffneck. Ned, Dab, and Grabwill Junior rested their chins on the stage. Meg longed to please them all, though her heart was jumping like a frog and she feared she might throw up.

When she stepped onstage as Cleopatra, wearing a wig of black hair, she heard the chanting start up: “Long Meg! Long Meg!” She held her queenly attitude for a long moment before speaking. Will entered, armed as Antony, and the Boar's Head crowd shouted: “Will! Will! Shake your spear!” Meg struggled to keep from smiling. Behind the curtain Burbage would be dancing a jig, for his new players were causing a sensation and the noble Leicester was a witness to it.

It was the final act. Antony fell on his sword. Bumpass and three centurions hoisted Will to their shoulders, carefully avoiding the sheep's blood he squeezed from a bladder onto the stage.

“
I am dying, Egypt, dying
,” Will said, moaning as they laid him on the platform where Cleopatra knelt. “
Give me some wine and let me speak a little
.”

Meg put a cup to Will's lips, and the red liquid spilled out again. She touched her lips to Will's forehead, then to his cheek. She could hear the audience snuffling wetly as if an ague had seized them all.

“
O quicken again with kissing! Had my lips that power, I would wear them out
,” Meg said and kissed Will, closing her eyes and thinking of anything but his lips lest she forget her next lines.

Will was borne away and Rankin strode onstage as the conquering Caesar. Loud booing greeted him. “
Caesar's a merchant that makes a prize of you
,” he said to Cleopatra with contempt. Meg knew he was supposed to say “Caesar's
no
merchant, to make a prize of you.” She heard Will behind the curtain, fuming that he was debasing the noble Caesar. But she knew that for all Rankin's strutting, Cleopatra's would be the final victory.

“
Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me
,” she said.

Wagstaff as Iras minced up the stairs to the platform aloft, carrying a basket. Meg stooped as he put the crown on her head. From the basket she drew out the effigy of a snake. Hidden beneath the stage, Bumpass shook a gourd full of dried peas to moke the hissing sound that filled the amphitheater.

“
O thou speak'st and calls great Caesar an ass, outdone in craftiness
!” Meg said, imitating the serpent's hiss. She twisted the effigy in her hand to make it writhe. She saw Gwin's mouth open, a wide, dark O, and heard a hundred gasps as she brought the snake to the hollow of her throat.