The Muses’ Darling – Chapter 2

Continuing my serialised story based on Tudor playwright and poet Christopher (Kit) Marlowe, with invented ideas and historical facts intertwining.

The photo depicts Rochester Castle in 2014, taken by a friend and used with permission.

The audio version is on Anchor: https://anchor.fm/dashboard/episode/e1k5adg

For more information, you may want to read The Photograph – the short biography I wrote on Marlowe – and the first chapter The New Playwright.

THE MUSES’ DARLING

Chapter 2

The Journey to Canterbury

For his journey to Canterbury to visit his family, Kit decided to take it at a leisurely pace. He was going to treat this week plus as a holiday and started out as he meant to go on, by having a lie-in! He set off mid-morning, with the sun shining, paid the toll and walked over the Thames via London Bridge, where he passed the time of day with residents and stallholders alike. Over the centuries the bridge had turned into a small town in its own right. Houses, shops and stalls selling all manner of goods had sprung up willy-nilly, and as he walked towards Southwark he could see the heads of traitors on poles, left there as a warning to all. It was nearing noon by the time he stepped off the bridge on the south side of the river. Instead of using one of the over-crowded and slow coaches, Kit had decided to travel on horseback and made his way to a reputable inn where he knew he could hire his chosen mode of transport. He sought out the stables and, after discussion with the lad there, opted for a dark brown steed and paid the money, saying he’d be back in about an hour. Once inside the inn, he ordered pie and ale for lunch.

On his return to the stables, Kit found the horse ready and waiting for him. After tipping the lad two farthings, he set off on the 60-mile trek, taking the scenic route so he could enjoy the views of the countryside. Having saved himself at least nine pence by not using a ferry to cross the Thames, he felt he could indulge in the luxury of a bed for the night. Although he had written to tell his parents of his plans to visit them, he had not given an exact date of arrival, so he had a little more freedom. As dusk began to make its presence known, he estimated he had travelled about half the distance to Canterbury and so, having stopped to ask a worker in a field for directions to Rochester, set off to find lodgings for the night in this old town.

The inn he chose proved to be good value for money with a clean room, comfortable bed and good food. Kit slept well, waking early to the sounds of traders trundling their carts along the road overlooked by his room. After a quick breakfast, he was astride the horse and heading for Rochester Castle on the east side of the River Medway. Kit had heard much about the castle’s history, including its occupation by the barons rebelling against King John in the 13^th century and Henry VIII’s decision to hold his first meeting with Anne of Cleves there, and was determined to see it for himself. He was keen to have the reunion with his family but he felt half an hour extra on the journey would be neither here nor there, and history had always had an almost magnetic pull on Kit. He followed the road to the Medway, the horse behaving well and giving him a smooth ride as it trotted round the perimeter of the castle grounds. Although Rochester Castle was disused, some of the stonework having been taken to build the nearby Upnor Artillery Fort on Queen Elizabeth’s orders, it was still magnificent and Kit admired the architecture and size which made it such an imposing site dominating the town’s skyline. Dismounting, he walked the horse into the grounds, tying him to a tree then proceeding to take a closer look at this wonder of 11^th-century architecture. The area appeared deserted, and his investigation of the interior of the castle was unimpeded while he mentally noted the layout of the rooms with their remaining adornments – that knowledge might come in handy for a play one day!

As he walked back towards his horse, Kit’s senses sharpened and he wondered if he actually had been alone on his tour of the castle. The thought disturbed him slightly, but before he could consider it further, he saw a black horse galloping off in the distance, the rider spurring it on and looking behind a couple of times. This put Kit’s mind into a spin – the rider obviously knew of his presence there, but did he know his identity? Kit would do nothing about it for now, deciding a return visit to Rochester Castle might give some clue to this mystery but that would have to wait till after his stay with his family.

Although Kit had set off soon after breakfast, the morning was disappearing fast, and he was determined to reach his parents’ house before dark. With half his journey still to cover, he decided on a direct route and made for Faversham, and its famous 14^th-century inn where he was greeted warmly and got talking to the owner, Robin Sutton, over a pre-lunch tankard of ale. Robin knew Kit’s father John from childhood days as they both hailed from the nearby village of Ospringe, and this led to more conversation. By the time Kit came to pay for the meal, Robin refused to take his money and even gave him a message for John, that a free room and meal awaited him if he ever passed that way. Kit thanked Robin profusely before bidding farewell, then retrieved his rested and well-fed horse from the stables and headed due south on the final 10 miles of his journey.

Towards the end of the afternoon Kit could see the towering edifice of Canterbury Cathedral on the horizon. While delighted to be greeted by this landmark and know he was very near home, he was puzzled by the direction from which he was approaching it and assumed that somehow he had taken a wrong turning – something he would never live down with the family if he admitted to it! However, as he was only about half a mile from the city centre, he didn’t care!

As he caught sight of his parents’ home, he steered the horse towards the nearby inn. Ambling round to the stable area to seek bed and board for the horse, now named Tamburlaine, Kit found himself face to face with George Walker, a childhood friend who was now the groom there. Their delight at seeing each other was visible as they slapped each other on the back and exchanged news, with George proudly announcing that he and Alice Fisher had been married for 13 months and their first baby was due very soon. Kit congratulated him warmly, then briefly outlined his life in London and his playwriting but, as both had more pressing duties than chatting, they agreed to meet up on the coming Tuesday, which was George’s day off.

Kit then set off on foot, a bag in each hand, but before he reached his family home, he met his mother Katherine returning from a flower-arranging afternoon at the church. She waited till they got inside the house before giving him a hug, which took his breath away, and then busied herself getting him a drink while he stored his luggage in the familiar bedroom upstairs. His sisters, Margaret, Anne and Dorothy, were all thrilled to see him and, when his father arrived home from work, he gave Kit a very warm welcome, referring to his success in the London theatre. John himself knew little of the theatre and had initially held hopes of his eldest son joining him in the family shoemaking business. However, it had been obvious to him that, from an early age, Kit possessed the manual dexterity of a badger but always excelled in his school studies. Therefore, both parents had encouraged him in his academic pursuits and, though they could not have imagined their son making a living by writing for the London stage, were proud of all his achievements, with John thinking the theatre attraction a phase Kit was going through before settling down to a more worthwhile career.

Throughout and after the meal there was much chatting. Kit passed on Robin Sutton’s message to his father, who said he may take up the kind offer as it was years since they had seen each other and it would be good to rekindle their friendship. John then mentioned that earlier in the day Anthony Shorte, the current headmaster of Kit’s former school, had been into his shop to order a new pair of shoes. On hearing one of their best former pupils would be back in Canterbury for a few days, the headmaster had extended an invitation for Christopher to visit. This would also give him the opportunity to see his brother Thomas, the youngest of the Marlowe children, who was not among them that evening. Following in his elder brother’s footsteps, Thomas was at the King’s School, learning Latin and Greek, singing in the Canterbury Cathedral choir and doing well overall. Kit was proud of his brother for wanting to further his education and was looking forward to telling him this. As he was 12 years younger, Thomas had been four when Kit had left for his student life at Cambridge in 1580, and all wondered whether the youngest Marlowe was also destined for university. Despite living so close to the school, the early starting and late finishing times for their studies had necessitated the brothers’ being boarders. Though Kit had initially resented this, he had to agree that he had benefited from becoming a live-in pupil, being away from home standing him in good stead for his years at university. In addition, the school rules had stipulated that all boys spoke Latin, even in the playground, and as a result Kit had become fluent in the ancient language.

Of course, all his family was keen to hear the latest news from London and whether the second part of Tamburlaine had been as popular as the first. Kit freely admitted it hadn’t achieved the same impact, going on to outline the reasons for this which he had predicted. Another question asked was when he had learned to ride a horse. Explaining that it had become a necessity in Cambridge, Kit told them he had paid to have some lessons. This revelation successfully guided the conversation to some hilarious mishaps he had experienced while receiving the tuition. He didn’t elaborate to his family on his reasons for learning to ride, those being that his activities for Her Majesty’s Government had taken him far and wide around the country. Using passenger coaches, with their long and circuitous routes, would have given him less cover in any clandestine dealings and risked making him late on missions. There were some secrets a man had to keep, and Christopher Marlowe kept them well.

Tired after his long journey, Kit had an early night, pleased to be sleeping in his old bed. And so his week or so back home had begun, with some surprises awaiting him.

© Chasqui Penguin, 2021

Twitter: @ChasquiPenguin