Chapter 5: In Which There is a Brawl
In the days that followed, Ellen tried her best to completely forget all about what she had seen. Four days later, she had all but put it out of her head. At least she would have if Margaret had stopped talking about Ned morning noon and night. It was enough to drive Ellen up the wall. She didn't give a fig about what innuendo Ned had mentioned, or what his views were on this or that. She couldn't have cared less, truth be told. But Margaret, being the fluff that she was, wasn't about to notice. After a while, Ellen just tuned her out. And then came a day when everything took a very big turn. It all started out with rehearsal four days after Ellen saw the encounter between Ned and Margaret.
"By my head, here come the capulets!" said George Bryan, the actor who was playing Benvolio.
"By my heel, I care not," Ned replied. James Armitage, the actor who played Tybalt, separated himself from the group of extras that played the Capulets.
"Gentlemen," he said, deepening his voice to such a low level that Ellen had to stifle a sarcastic snigger backstage, "A word with one of you." Instead of replying, Ned broke character.
"Are you going to do it like that?" he asked, in the innocent but jerky way that one might expect him to react. Margaret giggled. Ellen rolled her eyes, but couldn't wipe the smirk off of her face. Everyone backed off and began once more.
"By my head, here come the Capulets," George repeated.
"By my heel, I care not," Ned replied once more. There was a loud bang, and the house door opened. Ignoring this, the men continued on with their show. Ellen cautiously poked her head out from behind the curtains to see a glowering and very angry Richard Burbage. Ellen had seen him once or twice, and she'd found out well enough on those previous occasions that you did not want to cross Richard Burbage unless you were either very strong, or looking for an early death. Judging by his glare, Burbage definitely looked crossed.
"WHERE IS THIS ROBBER, WHO CANNOT KEEP HIS QUILL IN HIS OWN INKPOT??" he raged, as a few actors from the chamberlain's men trailed in behind him. Will, who was standing to the side of the stage, jumped down, a perplexed and rather annoyed look on his face.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked, looking Burbage up and down. In reply, Burbage drew his sword.
"DRAW! Draw if you be a man!" there was a similar sound of steel as the Chamberlain's men, as well as the actors on stage, drew their own swords. All of a sudden, Burbage ran savagely at Will, who stepped aside as he drew his own sword, tripping Burbage. This set the room off in an absolute rampage.
"What's going on?" Margaret said in a high-pitched voice that made her sound like a frightened mouse. Ellen rolled her eyes. Margaret could not be involved in a brawl. The results might be tragic.
"It's a brawl. Happens all the time. Just go upstairs, and stay there until I say you can come out."
"But what." Margaret trailed off as Ellen shoved her up the stairs and into Will's office. Ellen grabbed a chair from inside the room, and shut the door, propping the chair underneath the doorknob so that it couldn't be opened from the inside. She wasn't taking any chances.
Ellen arrived downstairs to find an absolute bedlam. Swords were all but forgotten for more creative weapons, such as planks, dowels and fists. There was a ripping sound, and she turned in the direction of the costume room. One of the dresses she'd tailored herself was being ripped apart. That did it for Ellen. She'd worked hard on that dress, and the idiot that destroyed her art was going to pay. She got her chance when the idiot made his way over to Ned, who was fighting off a pair of the Chamberlain's Men right below her, so she had a direct view of everyone's heads. The idiot shoved the other two actors aside, and was about to pull a punch on Ned, when Ellen yanked off her shoe, for lack of anything else, and whacked the idiot on the head. He looked up, blankly, and looked about to get at her, when she whacked him again, harder. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell unconsious to the floor. Ned looked up, gratefully.
"Not for you," Ellen said, "For my costumes. You just got lucky."
"You are a shrew, madam," Ned shot back. Ellen raised her shoe in reply.
"This shoe has whacked nobler heads than yours, Ned Alleyn."
"Pah!" he waved a hand in her face and moved on. Ellen shrugged her shoulders, and was about to move on herself, when there was a great hollow clonking sound from the stage, followed by a thump and a resounding cheer. Ellen ran to the stage, to see what had happened.
When Ellen got to the stage, the first thing she noticed was that little white feathers were drifting around the stage like newfallen snow. Mr. Fennyman stood on the edge of the stage, holding a skull in his hand, standing over an unconsious Burbage, who had a slightly purple lump forming on the top of his head. The Chamberlain's men regrouped and retreated, carrying the fallen Burbage with them.
"Ooh," Ned commented, "He's going to feel that one in the morning." Ellen looked around to see what had caused the flying of the feathers. Low and behold, it was the mattress that she'd sewn for Juliet's balcony. Another piece of labor, ripped to shreds.
"Have they any care for the work I have to go through?" she said, exasperated.
"No, and neither have I," Ned cut in.
"Die and and may the devil take you, Ned."
"Aye, and what would he do with me?"
"If he had any sense, he'd cut out your tongue, and maybe your eyes as well." By this time, Burbage's men had left, and several of the actors were watching the argument with some amusement. Will came to the rescue by jumping in.
"All right! That's over, so back we go to rehearsal!" Everyone nodded and dispersed to their separate places. Ned watched Ellen go backstage, glaring daggers at her all the way. She'd gotten the last word in this battle of wits, but never again. Of that he would make sure.
In the days that followed, Ellen tried her best to completely forget all about what she had seen. Four days later, she had all but put it out of her head. At least she would have if Margaret had stopped talking about Ned morning noon and night. It was enough to drive Ellen up the wall. She didn't give a fig about what innuendo Ned had mentioned, or what his views were on this or that. She couldn't have cared less, truth be told. But Margaret, being the fluff that she was, wasn't about to notice. After a while, Ellen just tuned her out. And then came a day when everything took a very big turn. It all started out with rehearsal four days after Ellen saw the encounter between Ned and Margaret.
"By my head, here come the capulets!" said George Bryan, the actor who was playing Benvolio.
"By my heel, I care not," Ned replied. James Armitage, the actor who played Tybalt, separated himself from the group of extras that played the Capulets.
"Gentlemen," he said, deepening his voice to such a low level that Ellen had to stifle a sarcastic snigger backstage, "A word with one of you." Instead of replying, Ned broke character.
"Are you going to do it like that?" he asked, in the innocent but jerky way that one might expect him to react. Margaret giggled. Ellen rolled her eyes, but couldn't wipe the smirk off of her face. Everyone backed off and began once more.
"By my head, here come the Capulets," George repeated.
"By my heel, I care not," Ned replied once more. There was a loud bang, and the house door opened. Ignoring this, the men continued on with their show. Ellen cautiously poked her head out from behind the curtains to see a glowering and very angry Richard Burbage. Ellen had seen him once or twice, and she'd found out well enough on those previous occasions that you did not want to cross Richard Burbage unless you were either very strong, or looking for an early death. Judging by his glare, Burbage definitely looked crossed.
"WHERE IS THIS ROBBER, WHO CANNOT KEEP HIS QUILL IN HIS OWN INKPOT??" he raged, as a few actors from the chamberlain's men trailed in behind him. Will, who was standing to the side of the stage, jumped down, a perplexed and rather annoyed look on his face.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked, looking Burbage up and down. In reply, Burbage drew his sword.
"DRAW! Draw if you be a man!" there was a similar sound of steel as the Chamberlain's men, as well as the actors on stage, drew their own swords. All of a sudden, Burbage ran savagely at Will, who stepped aside as he drew his own sword, tripping Burbage. This set the room off in an absolute rampage.
"What's going on?" Margaret said in a high-pitched voice that made her sound like a frightened mouse. Ellen rolled her eyes. Margaret could not be involved in a brawl. The results might be tragic.
"It's a brawl. Happens all the time. Just go upstairs, and stay there until I say you can come out."
"But what." Margaret trailed off as Ellen shoved her up the stairs and into Will's office. Ellen grabbed a chair from inside the room, and shut the door, propping the chair underneath the doorknob so that it couldn't be opened from the inside. She wasn't taking any chances.
Ellen arrived downstairs to find an absolute bedlam. Swords were all but forgotten for more creative weapons, such as planks, dowels and fists. There was a ripping sound, and she turned in the direction of the costume room. One of the dresses she'd tailored herself was being ripped apart. That did it for Ellen. She'd worked hard on that dress, and the idiot that destroyed her art was going to pay. She got her chance when the idiot made his way over to Ned, who was fighting off a pair of the Chamberlain's Men right below her, so she had a direct view of everyone's heads. The idiot shoved the other two actors aside, and was about to pull a punch on Ned, when Ellen yanked off her shoe, for lack of anything else, and whacked the idiot on the head. He looked up, blankly, and looked about to get at her, when she whacked him again, harder. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell unconsious to the floor. Ned looked up, gratefully.
"Not for you," Ellen said, "For my costumes. You just got lucky."
"You are a shrew, madam," Ned shot back. Ellen raised her shoe in reply.
"This shoe has whacked nobler heads than yours, Ned Alleyn."
"Pah!" he waved a hand in her face and moved on. Ellen shrugged her shoulders, and was about to move on herself, when there was a great hollow clonking sound from the stage, followed by a thump and a resounding cheer. Ellen ran to the stage, to see what had happened.
When Ellen got to the stage, the first thing she noticed was that little white feathers were drifting around the stage like newfallen snow. Mr. Fennyman stood on the edge of the stage, holding a skull in his hand, standing over an unconsious Burbage, who had a slightly purple lump forming on the top of his head. The Chamberlain's men regrouped and retreated, carrying the fallen Burbage with them.
"Ooh," Ned commented, "He's going to feel that one in the morning." Ellen looked around to see what had caused the flying of the feathers. Low and behold, it was the mattress that she'd sewn for Juliet's balcony. Another piece of labor, ripped to shreds.
"Have they any care for the work I have to go through?" she said, exasperated.
"No, and neither have I," Ned cut in.
"Die and and may the devil take you, Ned."
"Aye, and what would he do with me?"
"If he had any sense, he'd cut out your tongue, and maybe your eyes as well." By this time, Burbage's men had left, and several of the actors were watching the argument with some amusement. Will came to the rescue by jumping in.
"All right! That's over, so back we go to rehearsal!" Everyone nodded and dispersed to their separate places. Ned watched Ellen go backstage, glaring daggers at her all the way. She'd gotten the last word in this battle of wits, but never again. Of that he would make sure.