The Straw Men by Paul Doherty

replied. ‘As Rachael said, Barak lived and breathed for the masque and the miracle play. He was no different today. I’ve asked the rest. He fled from the Chapel of St John. Nobody saw him do anything untoward. Why should he? He was happy, contented.’ Master Samuel drew his brows together. ‘He didn’t act as if . . .’
    â€˜He was planning murder?’
    â€˜No, no, he didn’t. He was excited about us staging a great play at the Cross in Cheapside. He urged me to indenture a new mummer. I mean, ever since Boaz left—’
    â€˜Boaz?’ Athelstan asked. ‘You have mentioned him before.’
    â€˜A member of our company,’ Eli spoke up, ‘very skilled in learning lines and painting. He helped us decorate the dragon’s head – Hell’s mouth.’
    â€˜A magnificent sight,’ Athelstan agreed. ‘Truly magnificent.’
    â€˜Boaz left us just after we visited Castle Acre in Norfolk around the Feast of All Hallows,’ Rachael declared. ‘God knows why. We woke one morning and he was gone but,’ she blew her cheeks out, ‘we have our rules – liberty is one of them. We are not bonded to the company.’
    â€˜What are you then?’ Cranston asked. ‘Come.’ He offered the miraculous wine skin; this time it was gratefully accepted.
    â€˜The hour is late but we must wait,’ Sir John insisted, ‘so why not chat. Just who are you?’
    Master Samuel, after taking a generous gulp of the fine claret, described how the Straw Men were his company. An Oxford clerk ordained to minor orders, he had studied the Quadrivium and Trivium, then stumbled on to the plays of Plautus and Terence. He began earning a few coins reciting their lines at the Carfax in Oxford or on the steps of St Mary the Virgin Church. The authorities were not impressed. Time and again the proctors of the university as well as the mayor’s bailiffs had warned him off. On at least three occasions they even forced him to stand in the stocks and recite his lines for free. Eventually Samuel – he claimed to have forgotten his real name – had fled to serve in the commission of array in France, where he had entered Gaunt’s household as a troubadour. On his journeys Samuel became acquainted with the Laon and Montpellier mystery plays. Gaunt had presented him with a fine copy of
The Castle of Perseverance
, the Lincoln miracle play, peopled by characters such as Bad Angel, Plain Folly and Backbiter. Samuel had immediately fallen in love with both the themes and the verse and so, using the money he had acquired, founded the Straw Men.
    â€˜Why that title?’ Athelstan asked.
    â€˜Because, Brother,’ Samuel laughed sharply, ‘we bend and change with every breeze. You want us to be Herod or perhaps Pilate, or may be Saint John or,’ he pulled an arrogant face, ‘Pride.’ He relaxed. ‘Or Sloth.’ Athelstan laughed at Samuel’s swift change of expression, listening carefully as the others gave their story. Judith, who had been a bear-tamer’s daughter, worked as their travelling apothecary and cook. Rachael, who had been in the care of the good nuns at Godstow, was costume mistress. Samson, a former soldier, burly-faced, thickset and lugubrious, could act the jester or Master Tom-Fool. Eli, an orphan, was as slim as a beanpole, with an impudent, freckled face and who, Samuel assured them, could mimic anyone or anything. Eli promptly did, springing to his feet to perform the mincing walk of a courtier before changing swiftly to that of a pompous cleric. Gideon, with his blond hair and pretty, girlish face, openly admitted to mimicking women and, despite the gloom, made Cranston and Athelstan laugh as he imitated a court maiden playing cat’s cradle to Samson’s burly knight.
    â€˜Do you really think,’ Rachael’s voice stilled the merriment, ‘that Barak was an assassin?’