Page 6 of The Two Wills

“Tush, lad. I know just how you feel,” he said. “Trust me. Some days, I don’t always feel up to the part I’m playing.”

“You’re just humoring me, sir,” I said.

The Poet looked back at the doorway to the alehouse, then lowered his voice as if he were telling me a secret. “There are other poets—a rabble of pompous spangle-babies who all went to university and think they are the gold leaf on the Queen’s tit. You know the sort?”

“I do, sir. They come into the alehouse as if they are doing us a favor, and they treat me and my mother terribly. I hate them.”

“Me too. These gentlemen, in fact, have been laughing at me ever since I arrived in London.”

“They laugh at you, sir?” I gawped in disbelief.

He nodded. “They think because I didn’t go to the universities they attended, that I can’t be any good. They say dreadful things about me.”

I was stunned. Never had anyone of his class or wit confided in me in such a way. Most of his breeding didn’t engage with muck house rubbish of my sort, unless they wanted something unmentionable from me, be it for labor or sport. They nary cared if I lived or died. The Poet treated me as if I might be his equal—or something more.

“Here’s the funny thing,” he continued. “Everyone has been raving about my Henry the Sixth plays and this next one shows promise of being an even bigger success. Now those nitty-britch university bastards aren’t laughing so loudly … at least, not to my face. My point is, I showed them, and you can do the same, lad. Don’t you want to show all the naysayers?”

“I do, sir. But …” I could see how much he wanted me to say yes, though I completely doubted myself. Still, I didn’t want our association to end yet, so I plied him with more questions. “What would I have to do?” I said. “I mean … would there be any pay?”

“Apprentices are never paid, lad. But we’ll provide food, lodging, and costumes. You’d hopefully go on to be a hired man, wherein you’ll be paid a fair bit better than what you earn here. We usually offer an apprenticeship contract of seven years.”

“Seven years?” I was dumbfounded by the thought. To have a place—a home—for seven years guaranteed with lodging, food, friends, and costumes! I’d never even thought I’d need costumes in my life, but hearing it made me think how desperately I wanted them. “Oi, what’s the catch?” I narrowed my eyes, my upbringing having taught me to distrust any good news. “Is there anything else I need to do for this ‘apprenticeship’ you ain’t telling me? Speak truth, sir, I pray. Don’t take me for some mushed-brain simpleton.”

“There is no trick, lad. You’d be learning to act, but of course there would be other duties, like posting bills in the towns and announcing our performances, as well as some pulling and carrying as needed, perhaps gathering money at the door on busy days. Along with that, you’ll need to learn to sing, dance, memorize thousands of words, be ready for dozens of roles, tumble, sword fight, beat the drum, and more.”

“That’s a lot, sir,” I said, the fear creeping back up my gullet.

“The best part is,” he added with a wink, “if you make it through the apprenticeship, you’ll get to join a guild and become a freeman.”

“What?” My eyes grew large. “You lie, sir!”

Being a freeman was way beyond anyone else’s expectations for me. Those who knew me, including my mother, often postulated they’d find my impoverished corpse on the banks of the Thames one day, the victim of some lascivious and brutal mischief. But as a freeman, my future would be most bountiful, I’d no longer be a common peasant but legally and socially on par with other respected tradesmen.

“I speak the truth. That is the goal for all apprentices in our company.” The Poet grew quiet and began to study my face like he had before. “You have the most perfect smile. And your skin: not a blotch nor scar. And the way your face twitches with every emotion, and how those azure eyes glint and sparkle. You’re like … you’re like … the most glorious summer’s day.”

Suddenly the Poet’s eyes misted as if he had fallen into some sort of religious reverie. Then out of nowhere he spoke so strangely, as if he were finding words written across my visage, “From fairest creatures … we desire increase,” He lifted his hand and stroked my curls, causing prickles up the back of my neck. “That thereby beauty’s rose might never die …”

He looked at me, deeper still, as if he were searching for something. Swarms of dragonflies danced around my heart. It was like how I felt when I first fell in love with my Barnaby Stubb. I wanted nothing more but to hear his voice, smell his breath, touch the little hairs on the back of his hand, and do whatever I had to do to know more of him. I will make you love me, poet! By God’s breath, I swear it.

As if reading my thoughts, he leaned his face ever so closely to my lips. I knew it—he will kiss me! I lifted myself to him, but in the very next breath, he squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain, as if there was some force disallowing him.

“Sir, is something wrong?” I whispered. “Is there something more you want … to say?”

His face woke at the sound of my words. “Damn it,” he said. “I’ve lost it.”

“What did you lose, sir?”

“This bit of a verse that just came to me.” He took my chin in his hand. “Great Jesu, you inspire, my lad. Who could not fall in love with you?”

I swallowed hard, fearful I had misheard him. “What was that, sir?”

“I mean,” he said, clearing his throat with a cough. “The audience will love you. So, will you be an apprentice in our company?”

Before I could answer, the kitchen window opened, and I heard the cook shout out, “Hughes! Where are you? There are two puddles of puke that need cleaning outside the kitchen! Hughes!”

“Sorry,” I told the Poet, knowing I had run out of time, but still utterly confused by all that was happening inside and outside myself. “Cook gets his pizzle in a fizzle if I don’t respond promptly. I’ll think about what you asked me.”

“Wait!” He grabbed my arm and pulled me in close toward him. “You must promise to come to the Curtain playhouse the evening after next—say, at five bells. I must have you.”