Shakespeare's Globe (5 page)

I ended with my pictures for ‘I love you’. Then I burned all the old drawings I’d left lying around, and put my letter on the table.

I took half a loaf, which was a bit stale, and some wrinkled apples from the apple store.

It hurt to leave Hoppy behind, but I needed to reach town before the company left, and he couldn’t run that fast.

I almost flew down the road but, even so, I was too late.

The yard was empty. The company had left.

As I walked slowly back into the market place, a voice said, ‘You looking for the players?’

It was the grumpy ostler.

‘I was,’ I said. ‘But they’ve gone.’

He gestured with his thumb. ‘They can only be a mile up the London road. Young lad like you could catch up with ’em in no time.’

My grin must have nearly split my face in half! ‘Thank you!’ I cried, and I raced towards the London road.

I didn’t stop running until I saw the wagon and carts lumbering along ahead of me. I slipped into the trees at the roadside to think what to do. If I asked them to take me, they might
refuse. That would be that. But if I stowed away, they would take me without knowing.

The last cart was full of props. Even though it was covered by sacking, I could tell what it was by all the lumps and bumps sticking out. Old John Merry was driving it, and the way he slumped in
his seat suggested he was half asleep.

I was wondering how to sneak on to the cart when I felt a familiar tug at my breeches. I nearly jumped out of my skin!

‘Rosa!’ I whispered.‘What are you doing here?’

‘Nuffin’,’ she said. ‘Just walkin’ about. You’re going then? Going where you’se happy?’

I’d just finished explaining my plan, when Gilbert slipped through the trees, clutching a handful of duck eggs.

‘What you up to?’ he asked.

Rosa quickly told him. ‘He ’ad to leave ’is dog behind,’ she added, ‘’cos of his lame leg. Now ’e has to get on the cart. I thought I’d try the
crying trick. What d’you think, Pa?’

‘Reckon that would do it,’ he said. ‘You carry on, Rosa, my pet. I’ll see you later. I got something to do.’

I watched him melt into the trees. When I turned back, Rosa was gone!

The train of carts was rounding a bend. I slipped through the trees, keeping pace with the rear cart, when suddenly, the driver of the big front wagon gave a shout.

‘Woah!’ he cried. ‘Hold fast!’

The carts stopped, and then I heard it. Rosa’s voice, crying, wailing.

I moved to the side so I could see what she was up to. She was sitting in the middle of the road in front of the lead wagon, howling her eyes out.

‘I lost me penny!’ she bawled. ‘Aow, aow, I lost me penny.’

Old John shouted from the back, ‘What’s amiss?’

‘Little girl lost her penny!’ came the reply. ‘She won’t move!’

Old John Merry swore, then called, ‘Give her a penny quick, and let’s be on our way.’

While they fussed over Rosa and her penny, I darted to the back of the props cart, and slid beneath the musty-smelling sacking.

My heart thumped, and there was pounding in my ears.

After a few moments, the cart jerked into motion.

We’d only travelled a few yards when a corner of the sacking was lifted, revealing Rosa’s mischievous little face. She walked behind the cart, crouched down so old John
wouldn’t see her if he turned round, which was unlikely. He was probably dozing off again.

‘Thank you, Rosa,’ I whispered. ‘One day I will write a play, and I will name the heroine Rosa. She’ll be brave and clever, like you.’

She grinned. ‘Travel safely,’ she said. ‘I will see you again, one day.’

The sacking dropped.

We moved so slowly I knew it would be a long journey. I tried to get comfortable, but a sword stuck into my back. I pushed it aside and felt for the leather bag I’d stuffed beneath the
throne. I found it and pulled out the crowns. Rolled up, the bag made a pillow for my head.

I wished they’d hurry. After what seemed ages, we’d probably covered a mile at most.

I heard soft footsteps at the back of the cart. Then a chink of light revealed a big gnarled hand, shoving a cloth-wrapped package beneath the sacking.

I froze. What was happening?

My heart thumped. In a moment I would be discovered. We were still so close to Kinglake Manor that I’d be bound to be sent home, in disgrace.

The sacking lifted a little higher, and my heart thumped harder, because the next thing that was thrust towards me was my little dog. Hoppy! Gilbert’s grinning face appeared. He, like
Rosa, was crouching behind the cart, walking to keep up with it.

‘Thought you’d be better off with company, lad,’ he whispered. ‘Weren’t no trouble getting him. I’m good with dogs, me.’

‘Thank you, Gilbert,’ I whispered, as my face was licked all over.

And he was gone.

I settled down, hugging Hoppy.

We were on our way to London, together.

The horrible, bumpy journey took much longer than I expected. I didn’t bargain for the drivers stopping overnight at an inn. They took turns guarding the carts, and it
was only when old John Merry was on guard that Hoppy and I had a chance to get out for a pee, and to stretch our legs.

I was grateful for Gilbert’s little package. Inside were three chicken legs, which I ate, trusting they weren’t from any of Aunt Meg’s hens. I gave Hoppy the remaining chunks
of meat, which I could not identify.

Next morning, we set off early and, before long, I heard the sound of more carts trundling along, and the pounding of horses’ hooves. The road was growing busier, and I guessed we were
nearing the city. I knew when we passed through the gate in London’s wall, because the rattling of the cart echoed for a moment. The worst bit of the journey began then, as the cart clattered
badly over cobbles, and everything shifted about. I got clouted on the head by a shield, and I felt sick from being thrown about so much.

And the voices! Street sellers shouting their wares, people arguing and swearing, children crying or laughing. I had forgotten how crowded London was. In the country you could walk a mile and
only see sheep or cows.

I had also forgotten the stinks of the city. In the country everything smelled cleaner and fresher. Not so here. I knew the road would be slimy from animal poo and rotten vegetables and all
manner of rubbish.

I dared not look out in case a passer-by shouted to old John that someone was hiding in his cart, but I knew when we reached the river. I could smell it. I had never thought of it as a bad smell
before. Would I get used to it again? I wondered.

The noises changed, too, down by the river. Instead of street sellers’ cries, I heard sailors and wharfmen, shouting things like, ‘Heave!’ and ‘Hold fast!’

And then there were cheers. I wondered why, but quickly realized that people were cheering because the company had returned.

Suddenly, the cart ran on smooth ground, then I felt it move in a circle. We were in the Globe! I could not see it, but I remembered it clearly. A round, black and white building, with big
double doors, close to the river’s south bank.

Voices called greetings, and someone offered the drivers a jug of ale. What wouldn’t I have given for a drink?

It felt late in the day to me, so I didn’t know if the carts would be unloaded or left till morning. I prayed they’d be left, so I could sneak away. Then, when I appeared before
Masters Shakespeare and Burbage, they would think my mother and sister had returned to London, too.

I was lucky.

‘See to the horses, men, and get the costumes inside,’ said a voice. ‘Leave the rest until the morrow. Go home and sleep.’

I hugged Hoppy. ‘We’ll get out soon,’ I whispered, ‘once all is quiet.’

When the voices had stopped, I listened for the big double doors to shut. I counted to a hundred and then one more hundred, before lifting the sacking.

The playhouse was silent. The stage, bare of actors and props, jutted out into the great yard, and the covered benches ranged around the walls were empty. All the cushions had been stored away.
The light was fading and the first stars twinkled above me. It would soon be dark and I had nowhere to go. Our house was locked, with the windows boarded up, to stop thieves getting in. I dared not
go to the neighbours in case they’d had plague in their houses.

I tried the big playhouse door that opened on to the outside. It was locked. So was the door to the tiring house – that’s where the players dress in their attire for
the plays, and where props are kept. The arches from the stage into the tiring house were boarded up. That was a shame. I could have slept comfortably in there.

I was just deciding which of the audience’s benches I would sleep on, when I remembered something. Something secret.

A trapdoor in the stage floor that could drop down, leaving a hole through which a ghost or devil might appear. The audience couldn’t see it. I knew that if you went down through the hole,
you could get into the tiring house! During the day it’s busy, with players dashing in and out, and wigs being flung around, musicians running up and down stairs to the balcony, and
sometimes, if Master Shakespeare makes last-minute changes to his play, the scribe is frantically writing out words for the players to learn quickly.

I climbed on to the stage and knelt by the trapdoor. What a fool I was! The bolt was underneath.

I needed to insert something thin between the boards, and try to slide the bolt across. It was kept well greased so it worked noiselessly.

I glanced at Hoppy, sitting silently opposite me. He was staring over my shoulder. The skin on my back prickled as I realized someone was behind me. I froze in fear, unable to move, as I
imagined a dagger being plunged into my back.

I stared at my dog, my only hope of help. ‘Ho-Hoppy…’ I stammered.

A hand grabbed my shoulder.

I was sure I was going to die, when a voice from behind said, ‘What in the name of—’ The hand spun me round. ‘Billy-Odd-Job!’

I looked into the face of William Shakespeare.

*

I told the truth.

‘So do I have this aright, Billy?’ said Master Shakespeare. ‘You ran away from your aunt’s home? Your mother does not know you are here?’