Chapter Three: In Which there is a Triumphant Return
"We are doomed," Will muttered to Henslowe the next day. It was the first day of rehearsal for "Romeo and Ethel", the play that Will was supposed to be writing for Henslowe.
"No we're not!" Henslowe hissed urgently back. Will stood back up on stage.
"As to the parts that you will receive, they'll all be handed out in due time," Will told the players. But Mr. Fennyman, the investor for the show, thought otherwise.
"No, I will take charge of this. You." Fennyman was interrupted by a loud bang as the door from the house was thrown open by none other than Ned Alleyn and the admiral's men, the actors who commonly played the theater.
"The admiral's men have returned!" Ned shouted triumphantly. There was a great cheer from the actors assembled, but a great groan from Ellen.
"And so the fool returns," she muttered.
"Who's that?" Margaret asked eagerly.
"That man right there is Ned Alleyn, and a bigger, more pompous idiot you'll never find in all of London. The rest of those men are the actors from the Admiral's Men. They're the ones who usually act out the plays here. They were on tour, but I suppose they're back now."
"That Ned fellow doesn't seem that bad," Margaret noted, picking out a bad stitch. Ellen snorted.
"Just wait until you get to know him. A real charmer, that one."
Out on stage, Mr. Fennyman looked indignantly at the players.
"Who are you?" he asked Ned. In reply, Ned drew his rapier.
"SILENCE, you dog!" he shouted. Then, in a lower voice, continued, "I am Heronimo. I am Faustus," he turned to Will, "Ah, yes, master Will, I am Henry the sixth." Ned turned to Fennyman, irritably, "And who are you?" Fennyman was doing something that Ellen knew was something he'd only do in the presence of someone like Ned. He was cowering.
"Er.I'm the money," he said nervously.
"Then you may stay, as long as you stay silent," Ned commanded, "Now! What is the play, and what is my part?"
"Incredible," Ellen muttered, "Less than ten minutes in a theater and he's in charge."
"Amazing," Margaret said. Ellen rolled her eyes. Training Margaret was going to be even harder than she'd thought.
"It's a tragedy," Will said.
"You mean a comedy!" Henslowe interrupted, but everyone ignored him.
"I am in desperate need of a Mercutio," Will continued.
"And the name of this piece?" Ned asked. Will paused.
"Mercutio," he said. Ned thought for a second before saying,
"I will play." There was another great cheer from the actors assembled, and a smirk from Ellen. Will knew Ned well enough to know he had to be tricked into playing a supporting role.
Ellen and Margaret were still working on the embroidery for the costumes when Ned arrived backstage. Ellen pondered sticking her foot out in front of him, but thought better of it. But she wasn't going to miss a chance to trade insults with him, so she cleared her throat loudly.
"Ellen," Ned nodded.
"Ned," Ellen replied. No formalities here.
"Miss me?" Ned asked sarcastically.
"Quite the opposite. It was so quiet here! Amazing."
"It's nice to be appriciated."
"Excuse me," Maragaret cut in, "But I don't believe we've met." Ellen was surprised. Margaret acting on her own? "I'm Margaret Booker, Ellen's assistant."
"Ah," Ned bowed low, "Ned Alleyn, at your service." He took her hand and kissed it before saying, "A pleasure meeting you, but I'm afraid I must attend to other business." He turned and left. Ellen was sure she heard Margaret give a sigh.
"Good lord, Margaret! How on earth did you get manners out of that wretch?"
"I don't know," Margaret said simply, before returning to her needlework. "Why are you such enemies, anyway?" she asked.
"It's a long story, but we've nothing to do anyway, so I'll tell you." Ellen sighed and then began, "When I first came here as seamstress, I was introduced to all the players, and, in truth, we all got along pretty well. But, for some odd reason, Ned went out of his way to cause trouble for me. He tripped me backstage, berated me, and ultimately made my life miserable. So, I decided to make his miserable. Finally we just settled on trading insults, because it was much less tiring."
"Hmm," Margaret pulled another stitch through the dress she was working on. "Is this all right?"
"Good. Go and put it in the costume room over there." Ellen pointed to the side of the stage. Margaret nodded and headed off in that direction. Ellen felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see that Will Shakespeare was looking down at her.
"How goes the costumes, Ellen?"
"Fine, thank you master Will, much better now that I have someone to help me."
"Ned's back."
"So I noticed."
"You've talked to him, have you?" he asked. Ellen raised an eyebrow at this.
"What do you think?"
"I think that nothing will ever change between the two of you, unless some divine force comes and strikes down one of you."
"Let it be Ned, Will. It'll be a greater service than either you or I could imagine." "If it must be Ned, let's hope it's not until after the play." Will patted Ellen's shoulder and headed for the stairs. "Right now I've got to start writing act two." Ellen smiled, shook her head, and continued mending the doublet she had in her hands.
"We are doomed," Will muttered to Henslowe the next day. It was the first day of rehearsal for "Romeo and Ethel", the play that Will was supposed to be writing for Henslowe.
"No we're not!" Henslowe hissed urgently back. Will stood back up on stage.
"As to the parts that you will receive, they'll all be handed out in due time," Will told the players. But Mr. Fennyman, the investor for the show, thought otherwise.
"No, I will take charge of this. You." Fennyman was interrupted by a loud bang as the door from the house was thrown open by none other than Ned Alleyn and the admiral's men, the actors who commonly played the theater.
"The admiral's men have returned!" Ned shouted triumphantly. There was a great cheer from the actors assembled, but a great groan from Ellen.
"And so the fool returns," she muttered.
"Who's that?" Margaret asked eagerly.
"That man right there is Ned Alleyn, and a bigger, more pompous idiot you'll never find in all of London. The rest of those men are the actors from the Admiral's Men. They're the ones who usually act out the plays here. They were on tour, but I suppose they're back now."
"That Ned fellow doesn't seem that bad," Margaret noted, picking out a bad stitch. Ellen snorted.
"Just wait until you get to know him. A real charmer, that one."
Out on stage, Mr. Fennyman looked indignantly at the players.
"Who are you?" he asked Ned. In reply, Ned drew his rapier.
"SILENCE, you dog!" he shouted. Then, in a lower voice, continued, "I am Heronimo. I am Faustus," he turned to Will, "Ah, yes, master Will, I am Henry the sixth." Ned turned to Fennyman, irritably, "And who are you?" Fennyman was doing something that Ellen knew was something he'd only do in the presence of someone like Ned. He was cowering.
"Er.I'm the money," he said nervously.
"Then you may stay, as long as you stay silent," Ned commanded, "Now! What is the play, and what is my part?"
"Incredible," Ellen muttered, "Less than ten minutes in a theater and he's in charge."
"Amazing," Margaret said. Ellen rolled her eyes. Training Margaret was going to be even harder than she'd thought.
"It's a tragedy," Will said.
"You mean a comedy!" Henslowe interrupted, but everyone ignored him.
"I am in desperate need of a Mercutio," Will continued.
"And the name of this piece?" Ned asked. Will paused.
"Mercutio," he said. Ned thought for a second before saying,
"I will play." There was another great cheer from the actors assembled, and a smirk from Ellen. Will knew Ned well enough to know he had to be tricked into playing a supporting role.
Ellen and Margaret were still working on the embroidery for the costumes when Ned arrived backstage. Ellen pondered sticking her foot out in front of him, but thought better of it. But she wasn't going to miss a chance to trade insults with him, so she cleared her throat loudly.
"Ellen," Ned nodded.
"Ned," Ellen replied. No formalities here.
"Miss me?" Ned asked sarcastically.
"Quite the opposite. It was so quiet here! Amazing."
"It's nice to be appriciated."
"Excuse me," Maragaret cut in, "But I don't believe we've met." Ellen was surprised. Margaret acting on her own? "I'm Margaret Booker, Ellen's assistant."
"Ah," Ned bowed low, "Ned Alleyn, at your service." He took her hand and kissed it before saying, "A pleasure meeting you, but I'm afraid I must attend to other business." He turned and left. Ellen was sure she heard Margaret give a sigh.
"Good lord, Margaret! How on earth did you get manners out of that wretch?"
"I don't know," Margaret said simply, before returning to her needlework. "Why are you such enemies, anyway?" she asked.
"It's a long story, but we've nothing to do anyway, so I'll tell you." Ellen sighed and then began, "When I first came here as seamstress, I was introduced to all the players, and, in truth, we all got along pretty well. But, for some odd reason, Ned went out of his way to cause trouble for me. He tripped me backstage, berated me, and ultimately made my life miserable. So, I decided to make his miserable. Finally we just settled on trading insults, because it was much less tiring."
"Hmm," Margaret pulled another stitch through the dress she was working on. "Is this all right?"
"Good. Go and put it in the costume room over there." Ellen pointed to the side of the stage. Margaret nodded and headed off in that direction. Ellen felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see that Will Shakespeare was looking down at her.
"How goes the costumes, Ellen?"
"Fine, thank you master Will, much better now that I have someone to help me."
"Ned's back."
"So I noticed."
"You've talked to him, have you?" he asked. Ellen raised an eyebrow at this.
"What do you think?"
"I think that nothing will ever change between the two of you, unless some divine force comes and strikes down one of you."
"Let it be Ned, Will. It'll be a greater service than either you or I could imagine." "If it must be Ned, let's hope it's not until after the play." Will patted Ellen's shoulder and headed for the stairs. "Right now I've got to start writing act two." Ellen smiled, shook her head, and continued mending the doublet she had in her hands.