Love Disguised (22 page)

They located Westminster Hall by the lawyers and clerks entering and exiting, distinguished from one another only by the cut of their black robes and the hats that sat on their heads like overturned porringers.

The hall was more spacious inside than any building Will had ever seen. Trees could have grown there and spread their branches unimpeded. Birds flew around and settled on the high rafters. Their calls and shrieks mingled with the clamor of voices and the clatter of footsteps. Will heard the strains of hautboys and recorders and the beat of a drum.

“What are musicians doing in the hall of justice?” he said.

Mack shook his head slowly, as full of awe as Will himself.

They quickly determined there were three courts in session, and for every fearful defendant and belligerent plaintiff, a dozen or more officials. Will had studied their duties in his handbook but could by no means discern a clerk from a cursitor or a filazer from a prothonotary.

Mack, so confident in the streets, was timid in this new place. “You are better spoken than I am, Will. Why not argue your own case?”

Will held Mack's sleeve. “Be steadfast for me. The judge must respect the defendant who can afford a lawyer.”

Will forged a path through the throng of noblemen, merchants, shopkeepers, farmers, and foreigners. He could identify the French by their nasal tones and fashionable dress, the Dutch by their thick speech and dirty boots.

“The whole world is at Westminster!” he mused aloud.

Finally he located the Queen's Bench, where his case was to be heard. His fingers fumbled through the handbook. “Remember, Mack,
quid pro quo
. This for that,” he murmured. “The settlement I offered Burbage. A fair judge will accept it.”

“He must,” said Mack. “How do you say in Latin, ‘One cannot squeeze blood from a stone'?”

“I don't know, but say it in English and he will see the point.”

The court's business moved quickly. Some cases took only minutes. The judge's eyebrows formed a long black caterpillar as he interrupted the lawyers and questioned the witnesses himself. The jurymen shrugged as they pronounced their verdicts; some even slept. Will trembled to think of his fate resting in their careless hands.

“This judge behaves like a king,” said Mack. “He tells the jury how to rule and they obey him.”

“Everyone has been found guilty. I shall find no mercy here,” Will said, dismayed.

“
Burbage versus Shakespeare
!” cried out a clerk with a red badge on his robe.

“Remember to speak in a low and manly voice,” Will reminded Mack. “Otherwise you betray your youth.”

Will stepped up to the bench with Mack at his elbow. He saw Burbage across from them with his arms folded, sneering. The judge snatched a document from the clerk.

“Are you the defendant, John Shakespeare?”

“No, I appear in my father's stead,” Will replied. “I am—”

“Another damnable debtor!” said the judge. “Have you the money upon you?”

Will motioned to Mack. “Speak!” he hissed.

“No, Your Majesty—I mean, Your Honor,” began Mack. “My client proposes a
quod pro qua
—I mean, a
prid quid quo
—something for something!”

Will grimaced. He saw the sweat beading Mack's brow.

“What my lawyer means—” he began.

“Does not matter!” roared the judge. “
Lex remedium dabit
. The law gives a remedy. Shakespeare, I sentence you to Bridewell. Learn to work like an honest man.”

Bridewell?
Will saw himself tied to a harness like an ox and straining against a heavy millstone.

“Your Honor! Hear me,” cried Mack.

Will's heart sank. He had made a terrible mistake in trying to teach Mack too quickly! He should have devoted all his time to this Burbage matter, not to writing verses.

“You may not punish my client, William Shakespeare, in lieu of his father, John Shakespeare, for
debita sequuntur personam
debitoria;
debts follow the debtor,” said Mack with perfect clarity. “Not the debtor's kin.”

“Well spoken, Mack!” Will cried, hope rising in him.

The judge, however, was deaf to all pleas. He thrust a document at his clerk, who passed it to a marshal, who seized Will roughly. Too stunned to protest, Will let himself be led away.

“Here is no justice!” Mack was shouting now. “This is cruel rigor.
Per vinculum ad venitum et rigor mortis
.”

Will knew the phrase was nonsense invented on the spot by Mack. His friend's voice rose in pitch. He pounded the bar. Will feared he would soon commit mayhem. God forbid they should both be arrested! Who would help them then?

“I came to the Queen's Bench for mercy. For equity!” Will cried over his shoulder. “Will no one hear me? I am not John Shakespeare!” He struggled against the marshal, who only tightened his grip and pushed him onward. Through the sea of startled faces eager for new sensation and relishing this tragedy.

To Bridewell.

Will ducked his head. A tide of shame surged in him and he saw his every hope and ambition washed away.

Meg heard her own voice rise, catch, and betray her. Will must not go to prison! He could die there like her father. She turned back to the bench but the judge was already hearing a new case. That quickly, Will was forgotten as if he had never been there.

Meg saw the smug and smiling William Burbage leaving the court. Had he bribed the judge? If he could afford that, he did not need Shakespeare's money! She fell into step behind him. In her lawyer's robe she resembled a thousand other men who scurried like ants in their service of their hidden queen, Justice. It would be an easy matter to rob a fat-gut like William Burbage. Then as Meg she would go to him and pay Will's debt—with Burbage's own money! The justice of it pleased her.

The debt paid, Will must be released from prison.

As she tried to discern where Burbage wore his purse, she saw his brother approaching. She slipped behind a pillar and strained to hear their conversation.

“Is the case concluded already?” James Burbage asked.

“Aye,” said William. “The law does not wait on you or any man.”

“Where is the young man? Did the judge agreed to our terms?”

Our terms?
Meg frowned. Was James also a party to this injustice?

“I did it on my terms, not yours,” said William harshly. “Shakespeare is off to Bridewell.”

“Damn your greed!” said James. “You know he does not deserve prison.”

“Brother, you would forgive the devil himself for cheating you.” William's laugh was scornful. “Come now; we have a meeting with Lord Leicester.”

Meg knew who was the head of the brothers' enterprise and who was its heart. Quickly she contrived a new plan to aid Will. Coming forth, she greeted James Burbage.

“I am Matthew Mandamus and I would speak with you, sir.” Her manner was polite but determined.

“
Mandamus?
We command?” said James, amused. Evidently he knew Latin.

“He is Shakespeare's attorney,” William muttered. “I've finished with him.”

“The judge is deaf in both ears; I pray you are not,” said Meg.

“Go on,” said James, peering at her.

“My client esteems you greatly. He did earnestly desire to be employed by you.”

“I would not hire a son of John Shakespeare to clean my boots,” said William.

“One day you will gladly pay for the privilege of licking
his
boots,” Meg shot back in a very unlawyerlike way.

James stepped in front of his brother and drew Meg apart. “Speak your purpose and be quick. I have other business.”

“Sir, your business ought to be with this actor destined to blaze across London like a comet through the sky. O the stage of an inn is too narrow for his greatness! Do you know he is a poet too? His pen is sharper than a sword and his words sink deep into every listener's heart.”

Meg hardly knew where her words came from, but the feeling behind them was true. She went on. “Would you let this most excellent poet languish in prison when he could grace your stage? If you give Will Shakespeare a place in your company, you shall earn a hundred times the paltry sum his father owes.” She was trembling at having said so much.

James Burbage stroked his beard and regarded Meg. “I swear, but for your garb you resemble the young woman who came with Will Shakespeare to my theater.”

Meg reached up and touched her cap nervously.

“Pay him no heed,” said William in a surly tone. “Lawyers, like actors, are skilled liars.”

James shook his head slowly. “I doubt this is a lawyer, William.”

Meg gulped. Despite the two layers of disguise she felt suddenly naked.

“What do you mean?” said William. “He is Mandamus, a green lawyer barely out of his boyhood.”

“Nay, I have transformed many a fellow into the fashion of a woman. I know all the tricks. This is the most excellent disguise I have yet beheld,” said James in a low voice. He smiled at Meg like a conspirator.

Meg's heart was pounding. “I do not understand you,”
she said, though she understood perfectly well that Burbage recognized her.

“Mandamus,” said James, “I insist you join my players.” He leaned closer and whispered in Meg's ear, “No one but you and I will know your secret, I promise.”

This was not the outcome Meg was aiming for. She was pleading on
Will's
behalf. It took her a moment to fashion a reply.

“I will. If you free Will Shakespeare and hire him today.”

In the silence that followed, Meg feared she had overplayed her part.

“Come, Lord Leicester awaits us,” said William impatiently.

“Then go to him; say I will come anon.” James waved his brother away.

“Stay, William!” ordered Meg. “Write here that the debt is paid and sign your name.” She offered the reverse side of the summons.

“I will not!” he said.

“Do it!” said James. “Leicester will not be pleased to lose two promising players over a small legal matter.”

A scowling William signed the paper and threw it at Meg.

“Come, Mistress Mandamus,” said James, taking Meg's arm. “Let us redeem the prisoner and restore his freedom.”

Only with difficulty could Meg restrain herself from leaping for joy.

After obtaining the services of a moneylender and emptying his own purse, James Burbage had in hand the funds necessary for Will's release.

“This would make a most excellent device,” said Burbage as they hastened to Bridewell prison. “The hero, a rural fellow, is wrongly arrested and imprisoned, whereupon his beloved, disguised as a lawyer, argues his innocence and frees him. In the end they are married.” He rubbed his hands together in delight. “Your Will shall pen this and you and he play the principal parts.”

Meg blushed. “You misunderstand our friendship.”

Burbage gave her a sharp, knowing look. “I do not.”

Is this man a soothsayer?
Meg wondered how he could know what she had not admitted even to herself.

They reached the prison to find Will not yet chained to the terrible millstone. He was relieved to see Meg, surprised to see Burbage, and stunned by the news that he and Mack were now members of Burbage's company. James took his leave of them to attend on Leicester while Will and Meg—still wearing her lawyer's robe—repaired to a nearby alehouse to celebrate.

“You must call yourself Matthew Mandamus,” Will said, raising his cup. “'Tis a fine name for a player. You will command the stage.”

Meg smiled, trying to hide her misgivings. How could she keep her disguise from Will and the other players when Burbage knew she was a woman? And why, O why keep up the pretense of being Mack now that Will's debt was settled? How sorely she wanted to tear off her cap, shake out her hair, and speak in her own voice!

“Why did Burbage hire me? What if I disappoint him?” she mused.

“Pishery-pashery!” Will dismissed her concerns with a
wave of his hand. “Today you proved your skill in feigning. Not a soul suspected you were no lawyer.”

But Burbage had known, so why not Will?

“Just think, Mack. You and I shall work together every day!”

“Too much closeness may rub and fray our friendship,” said Meg. It was a mild way to sum up her fears.

Will shook his head. “Rather, by such closeness we shall grow one conjoined heart, like twins.” He tilted his head and winked at her.

What does he mean by that?
“You are in love with your own cleverness, Will. And I am in love with my mattress, for it has been a long and wearisome day.”

She rose to leave and Will followed her into the street. The brisk air sent Meg's thoughts skittering like leaves. If she worked for Burbage, would she have to leave the Boar's Head, leave Gwin and Violetta? And for what? A double life even more confusing than her present one. With Will, she would be Mack feigning to be Matthew Mandamus. With Burbage, she would be Meg feigning to be Matthew feigning to be whatever character he made her play.