The Playmakers (14 page)

“Er, yes, Percy, I understand.”

Sarah was far more impressed, particularly
with Will’s outfit.

“You will be the talk of the town, Mr
Shakespeare,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“Sarah, just call me Will,” said Shakespeare
softly, looking directly at her.

The girl blushed, and an experienced
campaigner such as Budsby could not help but notice The Moment.

That moment when two people stare into each
other’s eyes and realise that while intently traversing the roads,
highways and blind alleys on the Map of Life, they have suddenly
stumbled across a soul mate destined to make the remainder of the
journey an easier, more enjoyable and more loving experience.

“Yes, well,” said Budsby finally, taking
Shakespeare quietly by the arm and leading him to the area that had
sparked their enthusiasm in the first place - the vacant space near
the rear wall of the tavern. “I supposed we had best be getting on
with it.”

It turned out that more tables and chairs had
been earmarked to go in the space, but had never been delivered
when heart-broken Percy fell behind in his payments to the
furniture-maker. The entrepreneur in both of them saw it as an
ideal area for a stage, and immediately got Mr Mullins, Samuel
Davidson and Soho on to the job.

“Can’t you just see it, young Will?” said
Budsby as the trio began hammering and sawing away.

“Exactly, sir,” said Shakespeare.
“Entertainment in a tavern. We invite the patrons to come in and
not only eat and drink, but enjoy a show.”

“What a formula! I’ll wager there is nothing
else like it in London.”

“Who will perform?” said Sarah.

“Well, to start with, we’ll use Soho, and Mr
Davidson, and Rasa and Emily,” said Shakespeare intently.

“And,” added Budsby enthusiastically, “in the
meantime, young Master Shakespeare here will go and scour London
for any more acts he can find - no doubt there are a few old
mummers and a few young up-and-comers out there looking for
work.”

“But how will you pay them?” said Sarah.

“Sarah, once we tell them they will get free
food and drink, we’ll be beating them back with a stick.”

“So, what does Uncle Percy get out of this?”
asked Sarah as they sat down again at a table.

Budsby was unfazed. “A good question, young
Sarah, a good question indeed. I am pleased that you are looking
after your uncle’s interests.” He leaned across the table. “This is
what we propose,” said the big man earnestly. “Percy provides the
locale, the food, and the drink. We will provide the entertainment,
the promotion, and, hopefully the crowd.”

“And in return,” added Shakespeare, “we get
twenty-five per cent of the take.”

Sarah stared at the table for a little while,
and then looked up.

“That sounds fair to me,” she said. “That’s
seventy-five per cent for Uncle Percy. Right now, he is getting
seventy-five per cent of nothing.” Turning, she said, “What do you
think, Uncle Percy?”

“She left me,” said Percy staring into the
middle distance. “She just up and left me.”

There was a silence.

“I take that as a yes, Percival, old friend,”
said Budsby evenly.

“But what entertainment are you going to put
on there?” said Sarah.

This time, Budsby was just a little
fazed.

“Another good question, young Sarah,” said
Budsby thoughtfully. “An excellent query, indeed. We will have to
cobble something together very quickly. Our little show, full of
dedicated artisans, went well in the innocent green countryside of
Merry England, but lacked a certain spark to appeal to a more
cynical metropolitan audience.”

“I see.”

“Look at the response to Viktor, our supreme
high-wire walker,” continued Budsby almost in resignation. “The
Londoners wanted him to fall! I don’t understand this town any
more.”

Suddenly, there was a mighty bang. The three
turned around to the new stage under construction. Soho had fallen
off the ladder, landing heavily amongst pieces of wood, tools and
sawdust. He got up, his ugly little face covered in dust, his new
outfit dirty, his eyes rolling as he staggered from side to side,
dazed.

Shakespeare and Budsby got up to anxiously
help their little gargoyle in his moment of need.

But Sarah - London-born and London-bred -
just sat there and laughed.

The two impresarios were shocked to see the
otherwise sweet and innocent girl wiping the tears from her eyes,
laughing at another’s misfortune.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally catching her
breath, and bursting into hysterics again. “It was just so
funny.”

“Well, O mighty entrepreneur,” said
Shakespeare, clapping his hand on the shoulder of his mentor.
“There’s part of your answer at least …”

Seven days later, Lord Burghley swung in to
the top end of the street and began marching down to the tavern
door.

“We shall evict potty Percy, and that fat
fellow what’s-his-name, and his band of travelling vagabonds from
this financial black hole forthwith,” he said to his four dutiful
soldiers as they hurried through the mud.

But when he reached the door of Percy
Fletcher’s inn, he was surprised to be greeted by a young man,
looking very impressive in a new outfit.

“Ah, Mr … er … um …” said Lord Burghley.

“Shakespeare, William Shakespeare,” said the
young man, bowing low. “I am Mr Budsby’s assistant.”

“I see you have taken heed of my advice
regarding clothes,” said Burghley, examining him from top to
toe.

“We have indeed, Lord Burghley. Mr Budsby
agrees that to be successful, one must look successful.

“And I trust that somewhere in the pockets of
your splendid new outfit is the rent that is owing to the Earl of
Oxford.”

“Ah, well, no, my lord.”

“No!”

“I have no rent to give you, Lord Burghley.
Perhaps if we were to step inside and discuss the matter
further?”

“We certainly will step inside this tomb. But
there will be no discussion. We will proceed to throw you, and
Percy, and Budsby, and everybody, out into the street.”

Followed by his guards, Burghley pushed past
Shakespeare, grabbed the handle of the door, swung it open, and
stepped in. Shakespeare fell in behind, with just a hint of a
smile.

Two steps inside, and a look of amazement
spread across Burghley’s face.

Where seven days ago there were empty chairs
and tables, there were now people - dozens of them, seated,
standing, jamming the room. Where there was once silence, there was
noise. A buzz of excitement and hearty conversation rippled through
the air. Where there was once nothing happening, the young niece of
Percy’s was just one of several pretty wenches working hard to dish
out food and drink.

“Gee, my lordship,” said the senior guard at
Burghley’s shoulder, “we’ll have a bit of a job throwing this lot
out!”

“A brilliant observation,” snapped Burghley.
“What is going on here?”

“Ah-ha!” came a booming voice from the middle
of the excited room.

Burghley looked across to see Budsby, also in
a new outfit.

“Lord Burghley,” crooned Budsby, “welcome to
our little house.”

“Do you want me to start by throwing the big
fellow out first?” interjected the guard, nodding at Budsby.

“Be quiet, you idiot!” Burghley growled.

“Once we’ve got him out of the way,”
continued the guard, “then we’ll start on this table over
here.”

“Shut up you fool,” Burghley snapped. And
turning to Budsby he said, “Mr Budsby, I’ve come only to get the
Earl of Oxford’s rent. Or failing that, to throw you out.”

“I see,” said Budsby, “but perhaps, before we
start any discussions about money, you might like to look at
this.”

And turning, he pointed to the rear of the
room, where Burghley noticed some sort of stage had been built in
what had once been a vacant space.

“What the hell ..?” But before Burghley he
could say any more, the red curtains drew back to reveal a
strange-looking scenario.

On the extreme right of the stage, stood the
lovely, delicate Emily, the smaller of the former twins. Rasa, the
elegant Nubian, stood on the left of stage.

At their mere appearance in their brand new
outfits, the mainly male clientele began stamping and whistling in
glee.

In the middle of the stage was Samuel
Davidson carrying a huge wooden mallet. Next to him was a thick
plank resting on a wooden barrel, just like a seesaw, with the up
end closest to him. On the opposite side of the barrel, standing on
the down end of the see-saw, stood Soho in his blue and orange
striped uniform, wearing what was obviously a fake red beard.

Rasa began walking across the stage in a most
flirtatious manner. As she strolled near Soho, wiggling her hips,
the gargoyle began indicating an intense physical interest in her.
He clutched at his heart, he hit himself on the side of the head,
he pursed his lips as if to kiss her.

Davidson stood silent, staring straight at
the audience.

As the flirt scene developed - Rasa wiggling
her hips and shaking her bosom, and Soho beating his chest like
Neanderthal man - the crowd buzzed with anticipation.

Then Emily began to recite:

“There was a tiny young lad with a beard,

“Whose obsession with a girl was quite
weird

“But along came her friend

“Who said ‘That’s the end.’

“And the little bloke, he disappeared …”

With that, Samuel Davidson turned, raised his
mallet high, brought it down with a mighty swing, and struck the up
end of the seesaw with a crashing blow.

The up end went down, the down end went up.
Soho rocketed straight up, out of sight.

Not even those closest to the stage could see
the little fellow after he had disappeared rapidly into the
heavens, seemingly never to return.

A mighty guffaw of laughter ripped across the
tavern, and the crowd jumped to their feet, stamping and
whistling.

Their roars grew even louder, when, a few
seconds later Soho - as if by magic -suddenly re-appeared behind
them, standing on top of the bar!

His hair was frizzed, his face smudged, his
clothes half off. He staggered around the bar for a few seconds,
then hopped off, weaving his way back to the stage through the
tables. His beard was askew, revealing vestiges of what appeared to
be a pink handkerchief around his neck.

On spotting this, Burghley grew redder in the
face.

The crowd roared as Soho clambered up onto
the stage and collapsed at the feet of Rasa.

Rasa stooped down, her low-cut dress
revealing her large dark breasts, driving the crowd even wilder.
She picked Soho up, and as she cuddled him, Emily recited:

“But then the tiny young lad with a
beard,

“Whose obsession with a girl was quite
weird

“He got back on the track

“He made a comeback

“And into her bosom, he disappeared …”

The noise was deafening as the performers
bowed and the curtain came down

“There you go, sir,” said Budsby to Lord
Burghley as the applause gave way to orders for more beer and wine.
“Not only did I follow your advice on my apparel …”

“So I see,” said Burghley cautiously.

“ … but we have re-invented ourselves in
seven short days, from innocent travelling mummers adored in the
countryside to hard-edged performers loved in London.”

“Now can I throw him out, boss?” interjected
the guard over Burghley’s shoulder.

But before he could answer, Budsby tossed
over a small leather bag of coins, saying solemnly, “And as a
result of our efforts, Lord Burghley, there is the rent Percy owes
you up until today.”

Then he threw a second bag declaring, “And
that is a month’s rent in advance.”

“Yair, well,” said the guard, shrugging his
shoulder, “maybe we should come back another time…”

“That’s the smartest thing you have said all
night,” Burghley growled. He looked at the two bags and then handed
them to the guard. Turning to Budsby, he glared. “Very diligent, Mr
Budsby, very diligent. I shall apprise the Earl of the sudden
turnaround in the fortunes of his once doubtful property. Good-day
to you, sir.”

“No, no, no,” said Budsby. “Don’t leave yet.
There’s plenty more to come. Wait until you see Percy perform.”

“Percy?” said Burghley. “Percy Fletcher? On
stage!”

“Yes. He comes out in his underwear and sings
a song called ‘She Left Me.’ It’s enough to make a statue
laugh!”

Burghley could take no more. Shaking his
head, he turned and marched out the door, followed by his
soldiers.

A few seconds later, Budsby turned to see
Burghley rushing back in again, unattended. “And tell that horrible
little half-human of yours, I want my pink handkerchief back!”

“All in good time, your lordship,” said
Budsby, as Burghley turned on his heel and stormed out. “All in
good time …”

CHAPTER EIGHT