Much Ado About Murder

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” said Shakespeare, in an aside to the others. “If she truly cared so little for Ben Dickens, ‘twould seem she would not speak so much of him. Or, perhaps, so ill.”

“She does seem to dislike the fellow,” Smythe said.

“You must not mistake her, though,” Burbage replied. “There always was a kind of merry war betwixt them, and they never met without some skirmish of wit between them. In truth, I do believe that Ben and Molly share a more than passing fancy, though neither would admit to so much as a brass farthing’s worth of fondness for the other.”

“Well, disdain is oft the obverse of the coin of fondness,” Shakespeare said. “And skirmishes of wit can oft preclude the larger and more earnest battle of the sexes, known as marriage.”

“I like that,” Burbage said. “Skirmishes of wit precluding the battle of the sexes. Perhaps we can use that line somewhere.”

“ ‘Tis yours, my dear Burbage,” said Shakespeare, with a magnanimous gesture. “Make what use of it you will, so long as you put to good usage.”

“So then, who else was present, Will, ‘mongst this distinguished company where you met our Ben?” asked Fleming.

“Well, now let me put memory to the test,” said Shakespeare, frowning. “There were several in the company, along with the gentleman I mentioned, among them a stout, older, balding fellow called Master Peters by the others, by which tide and by whose fine apparel and accoutrements I would infer that he must be a guildsman of some standing in his company, though which company that was I cannot say.”

“Oh, well, I can tell you that,” interjected Burbage. “He is a master in the company of goldsmiths. He likely has more journeymen and apprentices in service at his shop than any other hammerman in Cheapside. He comes often to our theatre, where he takes a box up in the galleries and entertains his friends. Word has it he may soon be made a peer, for he surely has the means and the connections to move up. You were civil to him, I trust?” “I am civil to the world, Dick,” Shakespeare replied. “And as Master Peters was civil in regard to me, so was I to him. Never fear, I did not embarrass your fine patron, nor did he give me cause to. He had with him a handsome young man by the name of Corwin, whom I might have taken for his son, but for the lack of any resemblance between them, for his manner toward the lad was very much that of a father or perhaps an uncle.”

“There, too, I may supply elaboration,” Burbage said, “for I have met the young man of whom you speak. Master Peters might indeed show favor to him, for Corwin is a journeyman in his shop, lately raised up from an apprentice. His work as an artisan in gold and silver has garnered much praise and is thus a favorable reflection on his master.”

“He seemed to be on close terms with your friend, Ben Dickens,” Shakespeare said.

“They doubtless knew each other when both were still apprentices, albeit to different masters,” Fleming said.

“Aye, that would account for it. They seemed to be old friends,” said Shakespeare. “There was one other present in the company, a dark and foreign-looking fellow by the name of Leonardo. He wore a seaman’s boots, and spoke English passing well, but with an accent that sounded Genoan to me.”

“Him I know not,” said Burbage, “but if you say he is a seaman, and a Genoan at that, then I would venture that he must be a merchant trader, doubtless the master of his own ship, for I cannot quite see Master Peters breaking bread with common seamen. Methinks that he would find their company a bit too coarse for his tastes.”

“Why, no more coarse than the company of players, I should think, eh, Burbage?” a deep and resonant voice came from behind them. “A man who would suffer the company of players might well be said to suffer the insufferable.”

“Ben!” cried Fleming, jumping to his feet and rushing to embrace him. The older players eagerly surrounded him as well, while the younger ones who had joined the company after he had left looked on with interest, having heard so much about him.

“Odd’s blood!” Will Kemp exclaimed, embracing him in turn. “Look how you’ve grown, my boy! How time hath flown! Step back now and let me look at you! How you have changed!”

Ben Dickens grinned at him. “And you have not changed at all, Will Kemp. Tell me, are you still as cantankerous as ever? Or has time’s passage mellowed you, like wine?”

“Soured him like vinegar, more like, if ye ask me,” said Speed.

“Bob Speed, as I live and breathe!” said Dickens, clapping him upon the shoulders. “ ‘Tis good to see you, my old friend. How well I remember all you taught me!”

“Do ye remember how to drink, then?” asked Speed.

“Often and prodigiously,” Dickens replied, with a grin.

“Marry, then you remembered the most important part,” said Speed, slapping him upon the back. “Come join us!”