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Edward Marston

The Vagabond Clown

Chapter One

The trouble came when he least expected it. Nicholas Bracewell was, for once, caught completely off guard. Until that moment, the performance had been an unqualified success. A Trick To Catch A Chaste Lady was an ideal choice for a hot afternoon in the yard of the Queen’s Head in Gracechurch Street and the spectators were highly appreciative. What was on offer was a riotous comedy that was played with such skill that it kept the large audience in a state of almost continuous hilarity. Waves of laughter rolled ceaselessly across the yard. In the role of a bumbling suitor, Lackwit, who fails time and again to win the hand of his beloved, Lawrence Firethorn led Westfield’s Men superbly, setting a standard at which the others could aim, if only to fall short. The one actor who rivalled his comic genius was Barnaby Gill, the acknowledged clown of the company, a man whose facial contortions were a delight and whose sprightly jigs were irresistibly funny. Gill was in the middle of one of his famous dances when the shadow of disaster fell across the afternoon.

‘Why do they laugh so, Nick?’ complained Firethorn, who had just quit the stage and was standing beside the book holder. ‘These are stale antics. Barnaby’s jig has as much novelty as the death of Julius Caesar. ’

‘He’s a born clown,’ said Nicholas Bracewell admiringly, glancing up from his prompt book to watch Gill at work. ‘He plays upon his audience as upon a pipe. ’

‘And produces dull music. ’

‘They do not think so. ’

Firethorn inflated his chest. ‘I am the true clown,’ he boasted. ‘My touch is altogether lighter than Barnaby’s. I play upon playgoers as upon a church organ.

‘Yes,’ said Nicholas with a smile, ‘and produce some very irreverent chords. ’

Before he could reply, Firethorn was distracted by a huge roar of laughter from the inn yard. Envy surged through him at once. Annoyed that Gill was getting such a wonderful response onstage, he turned to look at his capering colleague. But it was not the comic jig that was provoking the explosion of joy. Gill, in fact, was standing quite still. Two young men had suddenly leapt up on to the makeshift stage from the audience and were grappling with each other. Assuming that the fight was part of the play, the spectators urged them on, shaking with even more mirth when Gill, outraged that his dance had been interrupted, made the mistake of trying to pull the combatants apart, only to be set on by both of them. The hapless clown was pushed, punched, slapped, tripped up, kicked hard in the ribs then thrown unceremoniously from the stage.

Amused at first, the standees at the front of the pit lost their sense of humour when the flailing arms and legs of Barnaby Gill landed among them. Items of furniture soon followed as the two interlopers began to hurl various properties from the stage. A chair hit one man in the face. A heavy stool knocked another spectator senseless. Flung into the air, a wooden table caused even more damage when it landed simultaneously on three people. This was no trick to catch a chaste lady, still less a device to entertain the onlookers. It was a deliberate attempt to halt the play in its tracks. Protests were loud and angry. In an instant, the atmosphere in the yard was transformed.