A Play of Dux Moraud Read Online Free Page B

reworked what plays of theirs he could to fit the few of them that were left, with him and Basset and Ellis often shifting to play two or more parts apiece in a single play. Too many of their plays, though, could not be altered enough to be playable by so small a company and had languished these years in the bottom of the box where their scripts were kept. With even one more player, possibilities opened up and through the summer, after Lord Lovell had taken the company for his own, Joliffe had begun to work over the plays, seeing what could be done.
    Now, with Gil to be maybe of their company, he could think more directly about possibilities, ignoring Tisbe while he did, knowing full well she did not need him. The mare had been with the company long enough that she knew her business. Set out along a road, she simply kept on going. If she came to a crossroads and no one told her otherwise, she stopped until told which way to turn. If she came to a bad stretch of mud, holes, ruts, or rocks, she waited for someone to guide her and the cart carefully past it. When a village or town came into sight, she slowed until told whether or not the players meant to stop and make ready to perform there or else go straight on. This last year, things being as bad as they were with the ruined harvest, they had played everywhere they came to, needing whatever farthings or foodstuffs were given them in return.
    Supposing any were given at all.
    With Lord Lovell’s coins in their purse these past few months, they had done a little more choosing; and today, with more of Lord Lovell’s coins in hand and some place particular they were supposed to be, they simply traveled on. Not that there were many places to pause the way they were going, north and east through the wide forest of Wychwood, but by late afternoon they were beyond it, and with early dark drawing in because of the rain, they stopped for the night in a village where the reeve agreed they could shelter in his barn in return for performing for his family after supper.
    That was a good enough exchange. “Though we don’t have to give as much as we might, since we’re feeding ourselves,” Basset said over the players’ own supper of Gil’s meat pie and a leather bottle of ale brought from Minster Lovell. “This is excellent pie, young Gil. Our thanks to your mother and welcome to you.”
    Basset lifted his handleless cup as he said it and the others followed suit. Gil grinned and lifted his in return. “My thanks to you,” he said. “For taking me on.”
    “We’ll see how thankful you are in a week or so, once Basset has put you to work,” Ellis said. But he was smiling. He tended toward black-browed frowns more than any of them, but even he was presently in good humour, being well-fed, well-sheltered, and with money in hand.
    As the players had expected, after supper they found most of the village crowded into the reeve’s house. There was not much space left for them to play but they were used to that and began with some juggling by Basset, Ellis, and Piers. Then Joliffe played his lute (his juggling skills were execrable) while Piers sang in his bright, clear child’s voice. Basset’s sleight-of-hand tricks followed, accompanied by a running exchange of practiced insults between Joliffe and Ellis that rocked their lookers-on with laughter and approving shouts.
    Rose kept aside, near the door with Gil, and slipped him away as Basset began his flowered closing speech of thanks to all, interrupted by Joliffe and Ellis snipping insults at each other behind his back until with a roar he chased them both out the door, leaving Piers to make the final bow all by himself with a flourish of his feathered cap and a wide, triumphant smile before running after the others, leaving shouts, laughter, and clapping behind him.
    All the brightness of performance was gone from them, though, while they laid out their pads and blankets on the barn’s packed-earth floor by the small light of