Kemp nodded, and patted his stomach with pride. ‘I am he.’
‘Give me my lute,’ I told Wolstan one more time, and this time he knew the night was against him. He placed the lute in my hands and sloped off.
Elsa gave a mocking wave, waggling her little finger. ‘A pox on you, maggot-cock!’
The three actors laughed. ‘Come on, let’s head to the Queen’s for a quart,’ said Kemp.
Shakespeare frowned at his friend as if he were a headache. ‘You ale-soused old apple.’
Elsa was whispering into Richard Burbage’s ear as he was helping himself to a feel of her.
Shakespeare came over to me. ‘Wolstan is a beast.’
‘Yes, Mr Shakespeare.’
He smelled of ale and tobacco and cloves. ‘It is a shame to see the Tree being himself . . . So, lad, do you play well?’
I was still a little shook up. ‘Well?’
‘At the lute.’
‘I suppose, sir.’
He leaned in closer. ‘How old are you?’
‘Sixteen, sir,’ I said, keeping my age consistent with what Rose thought.
‘You look two years less than that. At least. But also two years more. Your face is a riddle.’
‘I have sixteen years, sir.’
‘No matter, no matter . . .’ He wobbled slightly and rested his hand on my chest, as if for support. He was as drunk as the others, I realised. But he straightened himself up.
‘We, the shareholders of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, are currently looking for musicians. I have written a new play,As You Like It, and it requires music. There are a lot of songs. And we need alute. You see, we had a lutist but the pox has taken him.’
I stared at Shakespeare. His eyes contained two golden fires, reflecting a nearby burning torch.
Kemp, tugging Burbage away from Elsa’s attentions, was keen to speed things up, so said to me brusquely: ‘Tomorrow, the Globe, by eleven of the clock.’
Shakespeare ignored him. ‘Play now,’ he said, nodding at the lute.
‘Now?’
‘While the iron is hot.’
Elsa started singing a bawdy song I didn’t know.
‘The poor lad is still shaken,’ said Kemp, feigning sympathy. ‘Onwards.’
‘No,’ said Shakespeare. ‘Let the boy play.’
‘I don’t know what I shall play.’
‘Play from the heart. Pretend we are not here. To thine own self be true.’
He hushed Elsa.
Eight eyes watched me.
