Page 63 of The Two Wills

“Was Little Goat sacked?” I asked Augustine, my voice flooded with a worried rage. “If he was, it’s completely unfair. He’s twice as beautiful as either of these rat-sized jackanapes!”

“Calm yourself, Hughes,” Augustine said, quickly signaling with his eyes toward the new boy. “I know nothing of Little Goat being sacked. But, here, do say a jolly welcome to your new brother apprentice. This is Nate Field; he’ll be learning your part as Juliet.”

“Learning my part?” I said, suddenly fearful that I too might have fallen out of favor.

“Not to replace you, my boy.” Augustine laughed. “Just to cover you, as you covered for Alex.”

I looked at the boy again, who upon further inspection, though blonde and blue-eyed like me, was a little snaggletoothed, with an unpleasant squareness to his face. He would clearly never supplant me in the Poet’s eyes. Despite my coldness toward him, the new apprentice looked in awe of me, as I had become well known to all the boy players of London. I suddenly felt awful at how cruel I had been.

“Hello, Nate. Sorry I spoke so rudely before.” I quickly shook his hand, which made him blush. “Welcome to the company.” I then turned back to Augustine. “I’m truly worried, sir. Is it possible Little Goat was injured on his way to his mother’s? Or … or something worse?”

“Don’t work yourself into more of a dither,” Augustine began. “He’s only an hour late, which is, of course, unacceptable.” He coughed, trying to appear stern for the new boy. “But it could be as simple as getting waylaid by difficult travel. The roads have been quite muddy, and then there are those awful men screaming outside the playhouses again.”

Augustine was referring to a recent resurgence of Puritan zealots, ugly men, wearing black from head to toe, who will stand outside the playhouses, handing out pamphlets, crying out to playgoers, “Sin! Sin! Corruption!”

While they’d previously focused only on the companies cast completely with boy actors, like the Children of the Chapel, these wretched moralizers now wanted to forbid all the companies from allowing men and boys to dress as women and pretend romance with other males, believing this was corrupting the players and the public at large.

When the demonstrations first started, the Poet just ignored them, though I would occasionally see a dark, fearful look in his eyes. Like everyone, he attended church regularly—attendance was the law, after all. But I knew he disagreed utterly with the zealots.

Of course, these same hideous men (several of whom I had robbed in the Nags Head privies) would object even more vociferously against a woman on the stage. Lucky for us, the Queen and the Privy Council adored the acting companies, so gave no mind to these bloviating, religious knaves.

“I don’t think it’s the zealots, sir,” I said to Augustine. “Little Goat has dealt with them many a time. Might there be anyone else who would know what happened?”

“Have you tried Ed Knight? He generally has—”

“Pardon me, sir,” Nate, the new boy, interjected nervously. “You mean the small, fair boy with the mark on his cheek?”

“You know him?” I said.

“I do,” Nate said. “But not well. I had been with the Children of the Chapel when the boy ran away after wounding himself. It was all the boys talked about for a time. I was sacked by the company last June, but I’ve kept contact with my mates. Only three days ago, they told me that same small boy, the one you speak of, was brought back to the company.”

I shook my head in horror. “That’s impossible,” I said. “His mother just asked him home and said his cruel father had left.”

“True, true,” Augustine added. “Little Goat had shared with me that it was the brute of a father who had sold him to the Children of the Chapel in the first place.”

“What I heard was,” Nate began, “he was brought back screaming like a madman. He tried to run away again. But when they caught him this time, they made an example of him in the most brutal way. The lads said they saw blood staining through the back of his shirt from the whipping. They told him if he tries to run away again or refuses to perform, it’ll be even worse, and the other boys would be punished as well.”

My heart wrenched with grief, thinking how my small friend was suffering. “It’s not fair!” I bellowed. “Augustine, we must do something! We must storm the Children of the Chapel and save him!”

“There, there, Hughes,” Augustine said. “Calm yourself.” Then he addressed Nate. “Lad, would you excuse us a moment? Go see Ed Knight, and he’ll give you your roles.” The new boy left my master and me alone. “I understand your sorrow, lad,” Augustine said gently. “I am gutted as well. Alas, the Children of the Chapel have the power of the Crown behind them. They have the right to take him at will. Perhaps if he were from a noble family, there might be a lawsuit, but even that’s not a guarantee. ’Tis a terrible crime to steal children, in my opinion. I just hope the boy finds some peace.”

“I need to go to him,” I said.

“Easy, lad, it’s probably best to let him settle. You might only make it worse.”

“But they brutalized him there. We are his family …” At that my eyes filled with tears. Master Augustine, who was rarely affectionate, patted my back as best he could.

“’Tis cruel indeed,” he said, his own old eyes growing misty. “Sadly, it is the age in which we live. I’m most sorry, lad.”

Once I left my master’s rooms, I knew I had to see the Poet.

When I found him on the street outside the playhouse, he was in the middle of arguing with Burbage over some quiddity involving the new play. “You’re being foolhardy, Richard,” the Poet groused. “I’m telling you, you’re hurting both yourself and the play with that request.”

“Well, is it not me who the playgoers are coming to see? With all that trumpery wasting time before my entrance, I suggest we cut all the way up to—”

“Will!” I spoke anxiously. “Sorry to interrupt. But may I speak? It’s greatly important.”

I could see the Poet note my tear-stained cheeks. “Would you spare us a moment, Richard,” he said. “I need to talk to young Hughes about your suggestions. I’m sure he’ll be amenable to the revision.”