Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

When Dennis reached Buckingham's clever line - No man's pie is freed from his ambitious finger - he stopped, and laughed. "That's my favorite line."

" There was a ripple of amusement as the actors in the front rows looked at each other with understanding.

Carol said, "Okay, take it again. And Norfolk, use your upstage hand so you don't hide your face."

When they reached the dirty-look episode and VanBrook had not yet arrived, Carol read Cardinal Wolsey's lines and walked through the scene with the others. Suddenly the doors at the rear of the auditorium burst open."

"What's going on here?" came the director's stentorian demand. Starting down the aisle in his green turtleneck jersey, he caught sight of Qwilleran. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for the six-thirty rehearsal to begin," said Qwilleran with a pointed look at his wristwatch.

"Out! Out!" VanBrook pointed to the door. Dennis Hough walked to the stage apron and boomed, "He can stay, for God's sake! He owns the damned theatre!"

"Out! Out!" Qwilleran obligingly left the auditorium, walked upstairs, and slipped into the dark balcony, while VanBrook proceeded without apology or explanation. Whatever had delayed him had also annoyed him, and he was impatient with everyone.

Brusquely he said, "Archbishop, stop looking at your wristwatch! This is the sixteenth century... You - he Old Lady - we're doing Henry VIII, not Uncle Wiggley! You're carrying your hands like a rabbit... Who's giggling backstage? Keep quiet or go home!... Suffolk, there are four syllables in 'coronation.' It's the crowning of a monarch, not something from the florist." None of this was said in good-natured jest; it was pure acrimony. "Campeius, can you act more like a Roman cardinal and less like a mouse?"

The actors waiting for their scenes glanced at each other uneasily. Eddington Smith, playing Cardinal Campeius, was a shy little old fellow who was always treated gently by members of the club, no matter how inadequate his performance.

When Van Brook told Anne Boleyn to stop simpering like an idiot, the flashing of Fran's steely gray eyes could be seen even from the balcony. As for Dennis, his square jaw was clenched most of the time. At one point Dave Landrum, who was playing Suffolk, threw his script at the director and walked out. Qwilleran doubted that anyone would return for rehearsal the following night. He doubted, moreover, that Henry VIII would ever open.

Nevertheless, the rehearsals stumbled along with a new Suffolk, and Qwilleran received reports on the play's progress from Larry, with whom he had coffee at the Dimsdale Diner twice a week.

Larry, whose royal beard was growing nicely, said, "Hilary's always picking on poor Edd Smith, who wouldn't be in the club at all if Dr. Halifax hadn't ordered it as therapy. Edd still doesn't project, even though Carol coaches him. He shouts the first two words, then trails off into a whisper. Dennis has come to his defense a couple of times. There's a real personality clash flaring up between Dennis and Hilary."

"How is Carol taking it?"

"She's being a saint! She puts up with Hilary because she hopes to learn something. If you ask me, she's learning what not to do while directing a group of amateurs. He works hard with some and ignores others. He butters up the woman from Lockmaster and insults everyone else."

"Is she good?"

"Sure, she's good, but Carol or Fran could have done as well."

"Who is she, anyway?" Qwilleran asked.

"Her name is Fiona Stucker. I don't know anything about her except that she played Katharine in the Lockmaster production of Henry five years ago."

"How are the student extras coming along?"

"Carol is working hard with the kids, getting them to walk like sixteenth- century nobles instead of couch potatoes. I think Derek, with his five roles and great height, is going to provide the comic relief in this play. He's so conspicuous that the audience will recognize him as the executioner even with a black hood over his head. And I'm afraid he's going to get a laugh during Katharine's death scene. When he enters as a messenger toward the end of the play - his fifth role, bear in mind - Katharine's line is This fellow, let me ne'er see again. We all have to struggle to keep a straight face, and the audience is going to crack up!"

"The play can use some comic relief," Qwilleran said.

"Yes, but not during Katharine's death scene."

On opening night the audience made all the right responses. They wept over Buckingham's noble farewell, gasped at the magnificence of the coronation, and suppressed their tittering over Derek's frequent entrances. There was a rumble of excitement during the crowd scenes, when their teenage sons and daughters paraded down the center aisle as guards with halberds, standard bearers with banners, officers with tipstaffs, noblemen with swords, countesses with coronets, and vergers with silver wands.