Page 25 of The Two Wills

“I know,” he said. “It’s just … it’s just …” Little Goat’s eyes filled with tears, and I tightened my arms around his tiny shoulders. “I miss my mum. I just want to see her again. But the only way that will happen is if my father’s heart softens or … or he dies.”

“For what it’s worth,” I said, petting him, “I’m glad you ended up with the Lord Chamberlain’s Men. It’d be much harder for me if you weren’t here.”

He smiled gently. “You’re a true friend, Hughes.”

“I hope to be,” I said. “The funny thing is, where you long to see your mum again, I don’t think I miss my mother much at all.”

“Is it true she’s a whore, and you’re a bastard?” he asked, though he was able to sound kindly when he said it.

“’Tis,” I admitted. “My father left before I was born, and I never knew him. It’s not like she had a choice. She thought he was going to offer marriage. Then, because of her downtrodden state, she became a bar wench and, in her spare hours, a trollop. She fancies someday she’ll meet a customer who will save her. It is most pitiable. To be true, if it wasn’t for this apprenticeship, I would have most assuredly ended up the same. Do you think ill of me now?”

“Not at all,” Little Goat said, scooting closer. “You are a good and honorable man.”

With that, he embraced me, and I could not release words of gratitude from my lips for if I did, I would have wept. “I suppose I should get back to the memorizing,” I finally said. “But I’m just so weary.” I yawned for emphasis. Being with Little Goat and sharing stories of our lives had made me feel more at peace than I had in a long time. “Augustine says there will be no real need to memorize the substitution roles by tomorrow, since Alexander and Beeston are healthy as hogs. I’m just so tired and nothing is sticking to my brain. Might I give it a rest for the night?”

Little Goat looked concerned but then smiled. “I suppose I agree with your master. The players are still too hungry to be seen. Though come August, expect much drunkenness and feigned illness. But for tomorrow, all will be well. Let’s get to bed.”

And with that we climbed back into the cart and slept bundled in each other’s arms, true friends.

ElevenA Rude Awakening

Wherein Will Hughes is given a most unpleasant shock.

The Tragedy of King Richard the Third. Containing his treacherous plots against his brother Clarence: the pitiful murder of his innocent nephews: his tyrannical usurpation: with the whole course of his detested life, and most deserved death.

—Original title of Richard III from the First Folio

“Wake up, wake up!” Little Goat shook me in my spot in the cart.

“What’s it? Is it morning already?” I could barely open my eyes, having only been able to catch but a few hours’ sleep, tossing and turning with images of Little Goat’s terror in the Children of the Chapel. I noticed the darkened sky only wore a smidge of azure on her cheek, but there was light enough to see the looks of consternation on both Little Goat’s and Sam the Hedgehog’s faces.

“Is something wrong?” I asked through a yawn. “Are we to go out pamphleting this early in the day? Are they mad?”

“No,” Little Goat said, his face warped with concern. “Alex woke up coughing dreadfully.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “The plague?”

“I doubt it.” Little Goat sighed. “Whatever it is, he says he’s too sick to go on today. Augustine said you need to be ready to play Queen Anne for this afternoon’s performance.”

My entire body began to tremble. I sat up and looked at their equally terrified faces. All three of us knew I wasn’t close to knowing the role by heart.

“But you and everyone said he’d never get sick this early in the run!” I pulled my sleeping blanket up over my head. “I only know Queen Anne’s first big speech—”

“Actually, you don’t,” Sam said. “Will’s rewritten it again.”

“What?” Peeping from my hiding place I saw the rewritten scrolls in his hand. “No!” I screamed. “I can’t do it!”

“Stop complaining!” Little Goat yanked the blanket from my face. “Now get up this instant! We’ll go over the words until you remember them.”

My heart, like a mad dove, beat its wings against the cage of my chest. Sweat poured from my armpits. I yanked the blanket back from Little Goat, once again trying to hide myself from the world. “Tell them I’m sick too! One of you or the others can do it! You could do Beeston’s part, and he could do Queen Anne.”

“Will wants you.” Sam pulled the blanket off and threw it on the ground. “If you don’t try, you’ll be done for. And if you’re done for, then our masters will box our ears for not getting you ready, so get your arse up and get to work!”

“Queen Anne’s movements aren’t hard,” Little Goat said. “She just walks on and off a lot—a large sack of flour on wheels with a wig could do it.”

“Then get a sack of flour!” I huddled in the back of the cart, covering myself in hay, wishing that prickly, golden-yellow world would protect me from the inevitable. Sam took one of my legs and Little Goat the other, and with one firm yank, they pulled me from my grassy fortress and stood me up. Sam shook me by the shoulders. “Fie on thee! Care you nothing for the rest of us? Coward!”

“Stop it, Sam,” Little Goat said, then turned me to face him. “See here, Hughes. Sam and I can help. We play Queen Anne’s ladies in waiting. We can just shove and pull you to your right spots on the stage in case you get lost. As everyone has told you, if you forget a line, just call for it from Ed Knight.”