The Actor and the Earl (15 page)

“It was my first play. I was very lucky for it to be a Shakespeare. Will was very supportive; he helped me learn my lines and get the characterization right.”

They were some of the last to arrive, and one of the inn’s staff ushered them into the hall. The light streaming through the stained glass windows that ran the length of the room made multicolored patterns dance across the wood panels. They filed past the temporary thrust stage and jogged up the stairs to the right to take their seats on the raised dais.

Moments later, a musician with a lute appeared on the minstrel gallery and began to play. The audience fell silent, and two actors took the stage. Sebastian was enraptured. He immersed himself in the story, as he tried to do with any play. And when Rosalind first dressed herself as a boy, he spared a sideways glance for Anthony, who raised an eyebrow in response.

Sebastian enjoyed the play, having always preferred comedies to those with a more serious storyline, so when Rosalind finished her epilogue, he was one of the loudest in his applause.

“Did you enjoy that?” asked Anthony, leaning in so he could be heard above the clapping.

“Very much so. Did you know the plot beforehand?”

Anthony’s wry smile told Sebastian he had. “Let’s just say there was a choice of performances we could have seen today, and I thought this one the most appropriate.”

Sebastian squinted into the sunshine as they left the Gray’s Inn and spotted the coach that was ready and waiting for them. They climbed aboard, and before he knew it, Anthony pounced, covering Sebastian’s eyes with a strip of silk. “Today is far from over, Sebastian. But if you remove that blindfold, I swear we will return to the townhouse, and you will miss out on quite a treat.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” asked Sebastian.

“No—and if you ask again, I will gag you as well as blindfold you.”

“Are we nearly there?”

“Yes.”

“And where is that?”

“Sebastian, I
will
gag you.”

The carriage came to a halt, and Anthony grabbed Sebastian’s hand to stop him from taking off the blindfold. “Just a little longer. I’ll make sure you don’t trip over anything.”

Sebastian was completely disoriented. The sounds around him didn’t help him distinguish where in the city he was, and all the somewhat ripe smells could tell him was that he was upwind of the tanneries. They didn’t walk far before Anthony stopped him, though, and turned him around on the spot. The silk was untied, and Sebastian stared up at the outer wall of London’s newest theater.

“The Globe? Is it finished?”

“Not quite, but a friend of mine owes me several favors, and I thought you might like to see it before it opens to the public.”

Sebastian had to stop himself throwing his arms around Anthony. “This is amazing! I can’t believe you were able to arrange this.”

They walked through the entrance gate, passing a water fountain that had yet to be connected, and into the main round of the theater. Sebastian almost couldn’t believe the scale of the place. He’d thought the Swan was big, but thousands of people would be able to watch a play at the Globe.

There were a number of carpenters going about their business, and they weren’t interested in the two newcomers, too busy fitting the wooden benches on the second floor balcony. To Sebastian, the theater appeared almost ready to open. The wings and stage were in place and most of the seating. He eyed the stage, wondering if, from where he was standing, head level with the boards, he could pull himself up and be able to stand on it.

“Here let me give you a boost up.”

Anthony leant over and crossed his fingers together. Sebastian reached up and curled his fingers to the edge of the stage, and, using Anthony’s hands as a step, Sebastian hoisted himself onto the stage. Rolling over, he got to his feet and stared out at the body of the theater. He could feel the hairs rise on the back of his neck, taste the anticipation and desire to perform to a theater full of people, so much so that he had a hard lump in his throat, making it difficult to swallow down the excitement.

Lost in a sea of emotion, he didn’t notice Anthony join him. “Do you think you would’ve acted here?”

“What?”

Anthony placed his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “If you hadn’t come to Crofton Hall, if you’d stayed in London, would you have been here?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I would’ve auditioned, and it would’ve been incredible if I was cast, but there is no guarantee that I’d have been picked.”

“Maybe in a year or two, when our agreement ends, you could try again.”

The lump returned to his throat, but Sebastian was unsure if it was the thought of returning to acting or leaving Anthony that caused it. “Probably not.”

“Why?”

“I was already finding it difficult to get parts. I’m too old now to play the female love interest, and competition’s high for the other roles. Maybe if I’d stayed, and made sure I was around and available, but memories are very short.”

“Out of sight, out of mind?”

“Exactly.” Sebastian smiled sadly, looking out at the empty theater. “I could probably find something to do with the theater. They always need people backstage.”

They stood together in silence for a few minutes, Sebastian happy to bask in the atmosphere of what he was sure would be one of London’s finest theaters.

“Come on,” said Anthony, “there’s plenty more to entertain us.”

Emerging out of the Globe, Anthony asked, “Shall we head further into Southwark? It’s still early, and I’d quite fancy a few tankards of wine, maybe a hand or two at cards, or perhaps the tables if the mood takes us.”

“You play the tables in Southwark? Are you mad?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Sebastian, I like the challenge, and it’s not like I can’t afford to lose a few shillings if luck doesn’t fall my way.”

The streets behind the theater were narrow and filled with taverns and little shops selling everything from food to curiosities for men with more money than sense. Sebastian fell into step with Anthony, not sure which of the establishments they were heading for.

“Are you really too old for the female roles?” asked Anthony as they walked through the cobbled streets.

“I was pushing it playing Beatrice.” Sebastian laughed. “Now I’m twenty I’d be considered far too old.”

Anthony frowned. “When did you turn twenty?”

“Back in May.”

“Why did you not tell me? We should have celebrated.”

Anthony sounded hurt, and Sebastian couldn’t understand why he would be so upset. “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t marked my birthday for several years. It’s not important to me.”

“Still, I would have liked to have done something. Next year we will.”

Sebastian knew better than to argue when Anthony had made up his mind, and decided that it would be easier not to reply and hope he’d forget by the time next May came around.

The streets were busy, and they took a sharp left turn into a road that Sebastian knew housed several gaming dens. He’d always avoided this part of Southwark, not wanting the temptation to gamble away the little money he had. Anthony stopped outside a brightly painted door.

“Are you sure you want to go in here?” asked Sebastian.

“Are you sure you were an actor? Aren’t you meant to be a heathen with loose morals who wastes away their time on betting and women?”

Sebastian snorted. “Then I must be a great disappointment to you.”

Anthony merely laughed and pushed open the door. The inside of the low-ceilinged house was packed with men, gathered around a series of tables. The air was thick with pipe smoke, and there were several women circulating, some serving wine, others offering a very different form of entertainment to the men who had winnings enough to pay. Anthony pressed through the crowd toward the Hazard table, Sebastian following close behind.

Those already at the table shifted to make way for them, and Anthony opened his purse and handed Sebastian a stack of coins. “Enjoy yourself.”

A man further up the table had the dice. He called out a number, which Sebastian thought might be eight, and other men around the table, including Anthony, started betting on the outcome. A man at the far end of the table was marking their bets onto a piece of slate with chalk. The dice were rolled, and everyone around the table leaned in, a mix of groans and cheers accompanied the twelve visible spots.

Anthony appeared to have won, as he collected his share of the pot, as did the caster. Those who had won collected their share, and the man with the slate collected what was left. The caster was ready to roll again, and called out “six” this time.

“You’ll need to bet to stay at the table,” said Anthony.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“That much is obvious. Do as I do.”

Anthony called “eight” and Sebastian copied him, throwing two pennies into the pot. This time the dice equaled four, and the caster rolled. Sebastian gathered he hadn’t won because he didn’t collect from the pot when he rolled a six and a three. For several rounds he betted as Anthony did. Most times he lost, but he was no clearer on the rules of the game.

“I think I will step back and get a drink,” he said.

Anthony nodded, not taking his eyes off the dice. “There are tables for drinking toward the back. I’ll join you in a minute. I want to have my throw before I quit.”

Glad to be away from the confusing games, Sebastian was lucky enough to find a small table that two men were vacating. He sat down, and almost immediately a woman appeared and offered him a tankard of wine, which he readily accepted, and Sebastian handed over a penny in exchange.

He’d only take a few sips of his wine before a sandy-haired man who was carrying extra weight around his middle appeared in front of him. The man was easily fifty years old, if not a good deal older. “Is this seat free?”

Sebastian looked back at the Hazard table, and seeing Anthony still engrossed in the game, answered, “For now. My friend is busy with the dice.”

“More fool him.” The man sat down. “Call me Stuart.”

“Sebastian,” he replied, and saluted the man with his tankard.

Stuart took several long gulps from his own tankard, and Sebastian thought Stuart had probably left sobriety behind many hours before. “Please tell me you have your own rooms?”

“Pardon?”

Stuart leaned forward and placed his hand on Sebastian’s knee. “No need to be coy in here. We can’t go back to mine in case we wake my wife.”

“Sir—”

“Less of that,” he interrupted. “I said call me Stuart. Now, what are your rates? I bet a pretty thing like you is fairly expensive, but I won well tonight and I have the money.”

Sebastian knocked Stuart’s hand away. “You have made a mistake, sir. I am not for sale.”

Another tankard landed on the surface of the table, and Sebastian was very relieved to see that Anthony had finished at the Hazard table. “If it isn’t Stuart Crozier. What are you doing in here?”

“Ah, Anthony. A pleasure to see you, as always, but I am in the middle of negotiations.” Stuart’s words were slurred, and he leered at Sebastian as he spoke.

“Negotiations?”

Sebastian sighed. “He thinks I am a Ganymede.”

Stuart looked confused and then put out. “Anthony, tell the boy to stop playing games. I have the coin; he should be willing.”

“I’m afraid your luck has finally left you, old friend.”

Stuart grunted, letting out an infuriated puff of alcohol-infused air. “You’re his client, aren’t you? Should have known, there’s never one that pretty just waiting around.”

Before Sebastian could cry out his denial, Stuart stood up, emptied his tankard, and staggered away.

Sebastian scowled at Anthony. “You could’ve told him I wasn’t a prostitute.”

“Come the morning he will barely remember anything of tonight, judging by the state of him. Better to let him go on his way than to make a scene to get an apology, which he would’ve given if he knew he’d slighted you. I have seen Crozier cry, Sebastian, and it is not something easily stomached.”

Sebastian was still not happy, but he agreed to leave the gaming den and relocate to a normal tavern. They stepped out into the street, now dark, with only the faint glow from nearby windows lighting the way. The main streets were still busy and would remain so for many hours. Sebastian fell into step with Anthony as they made their way to a tavern they both had fond memories of.

Anthony grabbed his arm and pulled him into a deserted side street, shushing him as he tried to protest. “I can’t get the thought out of my head,” whispered Anthony, pressing Sebastian to the wall of a building.

Anthony kissed his neck, nuzzling into his ruff. “What are you doing?” asked Sebastian trying to push Anthony away, grateful that where they were was dark and empty, with no prying eyes to overlook Anthony’s antics.

“You, for sale,” Anthony said gruffly. “Oh, the idea of you waiting for me as your client… I give you a few coins and we slip out to your rooms and I take my pleasure again and again. Use you until you’re sore.”

Sebastian moaned softly as Anthony’s hand wormed its way into his breeches, taking hold of his cock. His head fell back against the building, and he gasped, as if each leisurely stroke stole his breath.

“I would have you on all fours, and take you, slamming deeper and deeper, filling you with my seed. Then I would make you clean me with your tongue, licking until I am hard once more.”

The words and Anthony’s hand made Sebastian whimper, and the excitement of possibly being caught was so delicious.

“Then I would push you onto your back. I wouldn’t wait to see if you were ready, just take again what I’d paid for. Have you squirm as I filled you, fuck you until you begged, but I wouldn’t let you come, not until I’d had my pleasure.”

But Sebastian did come, sagging into Anthony’s arms.

“You are so beautiful, Sebastian. It’s a chore to keep my hands off you. You could tempt a saint to hand in his halo.”

Sebastian struggled to regain his breath, burying his face into the crook of Anthony’s neck as he slowly regained his composure. Pulling back, Sebastian kissed him, and Anthony was more than happy to oblige.