A Play of Isaac (24 page)

Unable to resist, Joliffe leaned to whisper in Basset’s ear, “What would you do if any of us did something like that?”

Without taking his eyes from the stage, Basset leaned to whisper in return, “Give Tisbe a day off from pulling the cart and let you pull it instead, to sweat the stupidity out of you.”

Joliffe laughed silently and did not doubt that Basset meant it. He had seen what Basset had done once to sober Ellis in time for a performance when Ellis had shown up waveringly drunk, and since then Ellis had never shown up drunk—waveringly or otherwise—for any play or practice.

As the crowd broke up to find what pastimes it would for the rest of the day now the plays were done, the players’ way crossed with the Penteneys. Following Basset’s lead, they would have done no more than bow respectfully and let the Penteneys pass, but Lewis broke away from Matthew, ran forward, and grabbed Piers’s arm, exclaiming, “I saw you! I saw you!” He capered in a circle, awkward-legged as a colt, pulling Piers around with him, unheeding passers-by who had to swing wide to avoid them. Simon and Matthew moved as one to stop him, while Master Penteney said to Basset and the others, “On the chance you couldn’t tell how many women were weeping while they watched your play, you were a success.”

Solemnly Basset said, “We do indeed judge how well we’ve done with
Abraham, and Isaac
by the number of handkerchiefs we see among the ladies.”

“We’ve been boasting to everyone that you’re staying with us,” Master Richard said. Even Mistress Geva was smiling on them all.

Matthew and Simon had subdued Lewis, but Lewis was still happily assuring Piers in an over-loud voice, “I didn’t tell anybody about the sword not being sharp. Not anybody.”

Joliffe saw Mistress Penteney send Matthew a look that said he should calm Lewis more, and her smile was somewhat forced as she said to Joliffe, “It was reassuring to see you as so noble an angel after your several devils.”

Joliffe bowed to her. “My lady, you would be reason enough to turn any man into an angel.”

Beside her, Master Penteney made a grumphing sound of doubt, teasing her. She lightly slapped his arm and said, “Behave!”

While they laughed together at each other, a well-bellied man dressed in the same richly sober manner as Master Penteney, with a face as round as Lewis’s but without Lewis’s bright-eyed warmth, paused in passing by to say, “Penteney, what about that dead man at your place? Found out anything about him?”

Master Penteney’s smile lessened to nothing more than bare good manners, but his voice stayed friendly enough as he answered, “Nothing more than what we knew yesterday. If Master Barentyne has learned more, he hasn’t told us, now that he’s dismissed we had any part in it.”

His voice also suggested that now was the time to drop the matter, but the man said, “I’ve heard the dead fellow was a Lollard, may his soul be damned. What about these players I’ve heard are staying with you? Think they did it? Or that maybe they’re Lollards, too? You can’t ever tell what that kind might be into and up to.”

Master Penteney’s good manners stiffened a little more openly. “I’ve seen nothing about them that worries me. You saw them yourself at St. Michael Northgate today and here they are for you to meet them yourself.”

Rose, as usual, had managed to slip to one side and was seeming not to be there, but at Master Penteney’s gesture toward them, the rest of them bowed. In return the man regarded them all with a cold eye and said, “These are the ones that played at St. Michael’s? They don’t look the same at all.”

There was no way to answer than without pointing out the man was stupid as well as rude, so no one did. Instead, Basset said something polite to Master Penteney and they removed themselves, leaving Lewis declaring loudly that he wanted to go with them.

That hastened their disappearance into the crowd, and as Rose appeared at Ellis’s side again, Basset said fiercely at all of them, “If any of you lets that fool spoil the day for you, I’ll rattle the teeth in your head. You understand?”

They chorused agreement and to prove he meant it Piers tossed his hat in the air, caught it on a fingertip, and spun it around. Ellis offered his arm to Rose, and Basset steered them all to one of the food stalls and bought everyone almond-topped cherry tarts that they ate while beginning a slow drift back toward the Penteney barn. The long summer afternoon had hours yet to run and a long summer evening would follow, with the last reveling likely done by torchlight, but they had worked as well as holidayed today and the barn’s quiet when they reached it was welcome. Basset lay down immediately. So did Joliffe. Even Piers’s protest was brief and without heart when Rose told him he should rest a while, and he and his grandfather were both soon soundly sleeping.

Joliffe pretended to sleep, too, rolled onto his side with his back to Rose and Ellis where they sat together beside the cart, Ellis leaning back against the wheel and Rose leaning against him, his arm around her and her head on his shoulder. Their murmured talk was too low for Joliffe to hear what they were saying nor did he want to hear. He would willingly have been to sleep by the time they went past talking to something more, but since he was not, he deliberately set himself to thinking on how well, on the whole, the week had gone. They were well ahead on money and good will and with good fortune would leave Oxford tomorrow morning, ahead of the general out-flow of folk that would be bound homeward to villages and manors over the next few days. By leaving earlier, they would avoid an over-crowded road and hopefully make a bit of money playing to the stay-at-homes as they went.

With the thought that it would be good to be on the road again, he finally drowsed, to awaken when Basset and Piers did, with Piers immediately saying he wanted to go back into the streets to see whatever else there was to see.

Rose was spared answering that by a rap at the barn door and a Penteney servant coming in to ask if Master Basset would attend on Master Penteney presently. Taking it to mean Master Penteney wanted to see him now, Basset immediately smoothed down his hair, straightened his surcoat and left with the man.

Ellis, Joliffe, and Rose traded doubtful looks but said nothing aloud. Piers began to insist again that he wanted to go out, not spend a fine evening here in a barn. While Rose and Ellis debated with him, Joliffe briefly considered slipping away to listen outside Master Penteney’s study window on the chance of overhearing something but decided that would be pressing his luck too far and lay back down on his bed, hands clasped behind his head, wishing he was better at waiting than he was.

Basset returned soon, though, and was smiling in a way that immediately eased everyone’s worry, even before he said, “Master Penteney has asked one more favor of us and in return has promised we can stay here through Saturday night if we want.”

Joliffe bit back his urge to say, “We don’t want, do we?” as Ellis asked, “What favor?”

“Lord and Lady Lovell dine at New College tonight. It’s a feast being given by the University in their honor and in hope of their favor.”

“Meaning far too many speeches in Latin,” Joliffe said, “but probably excellent wine.”

“We may presume so,” Basset agreed. “On the other hand, the Lovell children are staying here for their supper, nor are the Penteneys going out but are dining some of their neighbors and others who are in Oxford for the holiday. Master Penteney has asked if we would perform.”

“Another play?” Ellis said, ready to be displeased.

“Happily, no. Our street-business will be enough. You can juggle. Rose do her tumbling, Piers sing.”

That was none so bad. It was what they would have spent much of the week doing in Oxford streets anyway if Master Penteney hadn’t taken them on; but Joliffe asked warily, “And me?”

“Ah.” Basset beamed at him. “There seems to be some revolt in the nursery among the younger children at being left out of things this evening. Or maybe it’s the Penteneys’ nurse who’s tired of being left out of things while having extra children on her hands. I’ve promised you to them.”

“To the children and their nurse?” Joliffe asked, his voice going up into the range between surprise and protest.

“To tell stories or do whatever else comes to mind,” Basset said cheerfully. “A little juggling. Whatever seems to suit.”

“Better settle for talking,” Ellis said. “People get hurt when you juggle.”

“A mishap or two and no one ever forgets it,” Joliffe muttered.

“One of your mishaps came down on my head,” Ellis jibed.

“Only the once and it was only a little leather ball that didn’t have a chance of doing damage to your thick skull.”

“The Lovell offspring might not be so lucky. Like I said, best hold to talking. Your tongue never fails you, that’s sure.”

Joliffe stuck it out at him for lack of any real defense of his juggling because Ellis was right—his juggling was not a thing to be beheld at close hand.

“So we’re agreed we’ll do it?” Basset asked.

“Certainly,” Rose said. “I won’t mind another two days before we move on.”

“We can even work the streets a bit,” Ellis said.

“But I wanted to see more of the fair,” Piers protested.

“You’ll see it if we’re working the streets,” Ellis pointed out.

“I want to see things like everybody else does—looking instead of being looked
at
.”

“Why not go out now?” Basset suggested. “There’s time. You and Rose and Ellis and Joliffe.”

“Not me,” said Joliffe.

“The rest of you then. Enjoy a little. Go on. But when the bells ring to Vespers, come directly back. Piers, you’re in charge of seeing they don’t dawdle. Right?”

Piers beamed. He loved being given charge of anything and would harry them back here with delight. “Right!” he agreed and put out a hand. “Money?”

Basset mock-glowered at him but dropped some farthings into his hand and did not even say it would come out of his share when they divided their earnings again, only, “Get on with you then.”

Joliffe waited until they were well gone and Basset had sat down on a cushion before he asked, “What else did Master Penteney tell you?”

Basset looked up a shade too quickly. “What else?”

“You were too eager to have them on their way. What is it you didn’t want anyone to come around to wondering?” Joliffe sat down on his heels, eye to eye with Basset. “Barentyne?” he asked.

Basset grimaced. Answer enough.

Joliffe pulled a cushion to himself and sat down. “He’s given Master Penteney the word we’re not to go anywhere for a while yet? Is that it?”

“That’s it.” Basset was grave. “I saw no reason to spoil anybody else’s day by saying so, though.”

“We’ll grant I’ve spoiled my own. You and Master Penteney worked up this business of our performing tonight and staying over as cover to Barentyne’s suspicions and in hopes he’ll soon be satisfied to let us go.”

“You know, you might live happier if you weren’t so sharp.”

“You’re not the first to say that. How much a part does the secret between you and Master Penteney play in this and how likely is it a danger to us?”

Basset froze, taken as much by surprise as Joliffe had meant him to be; but rather than being tricked into giving anything away, he narrowed his eyes and snapped, “What secret?”

“The one that has you and Master Penteney pretending you don’t know each other. The one that had the two of you meeting in his garden in the dark the second night we were here. That one.”

“You spied on me,” Basset said, somewhere between indignant and incredulous.

“You gave me a feeble excuse for going out that night and made me curious. I followed you.”

“What did you hear?”

Joliffe told him, ending with, “I don’t need to know more than that, I suppose . . .”

“You suppose rightly.”

“. . . unless whatever it is has something to do with this fellow that was murdered.”

Basset made an explosive, wordless sound and violently scratched at his right temple. “I don’t know whether they’re linked or not. Hopefully not.”

“But this secret you have with Penteney has to do with Lollardy, doesn’t it?”

Basset looked at him and said nothing.

“From how long ago?” Joliffe prompted. “Quite a while is my guess.”

Basset still held off any answer.

Joliffe tried another way around, asking instead, “How did you even come to know Master Penteney?”

Tight-lipped, Basset seemed still ready to say nothing, then suddenly gave way and said, “I was apprenticed to his father.”

“You were apprenticed to be a victualler?” Joliffe made no effort to hide his disbelief. “You?”

“Is that any harder to believe than that you were sometime an Oxford scholar?” Basset snapped.

“I wasn’t,” Joliffe denied quickly.

“Then you were something so close to it as makes no odds. But yes, I was supposed to be a victualler and, no, as you can see, I’m not.”

“Because of this secret between you and Penteney.”

“No. Because I didn’t want to be a victualler. I wanted to be a player and keep company with people like you, all the saints have mercy on me.” He glared at Joliffe, but there was more calculation than anger behind the glare and Joliffe waited, knowing Basset was making up his mind whether to tell him more or else nothing. Then finally Basset made an impatient sound and said, “Right then. It went this way. Back when the world was fresh and new, well before you were born, youngling, there was an Oxford master named Peter Payne who stood out for Lollard teachings more strongly than was liked by some. You’ve heard talk of him. There’d been none of the fool Lollard uprisings that finished the Church’s and government’s tolerance, but the tolerance was wearing thin even then. It was probably that made what Master Payne had to say all the more of interest to a good many people—most of us not old enough to know better. It was exciting talk and against so much of what we’d been taught to take unquestioningly, and yes, I was one of them, along with my master’s sons. Hal, who’s now Master Penteney, and his older brother Roger.”