Welcome to the first Marlowe Month of 2024! With the 460th anniversary of Christofer Marlowe’s baptism on 26th February, I thought it an appropriate date to post the next chapter from The Muses’ Darling (unfortunately my proofreader is still busy so apologies for the errors it no doubt contains). This chapter brings Kit back from Kent to London and into the world he has recently begun to inhabit after his years at Cambridge University.
The featured image is of Nonsuch House, a prefabricated home built in the Netherlands. In 1578 this was transported to London where it was erected on London Bridge.
If you have missed earlier chapters and would be interested in reading them, here are the links:
The Photograph (mini biography), The New Playwright (Chapter 1), The Journey to Canterbury (Chapter 2), Back Home in Canterbury (Chapter 3), A Wet Monday (Chapter 4), A Double Surprise (Chapter 5), The Gifts (Chapter 6), One Day Leads to Another (Chapter 7), An Eventful Weekend (Chapter 8), A Tour of the Kent Countryside (Chapter 9), An Unexpected Disclosure (Chapter 10), An Overnight Stay in Rainham (Chapter 11)
The Muses’ Darling
Chapter 12
London Beckons
Over dinner Kit apprised Sir Francis and Thomas Walsingham of his time in Rainham. Matthew, who was also present, had already given them details of his contribution to the venture, ensuring he made it clear that Kit was not returning till the evening as he was following a lead. Skimming over the preliminary details, Kit concentrated on the main news, including his chats with the innkeeper, and then from the time the five “suspects” arrived and his attempts to overhear their chatting at their table in the nearby alcove which kept all, but the last man to join them, out of his view. He admitted that eavesdropping wasn’t as easy as he had hoped but he did hear enough to realise the conversation was swinging between both English and Latin, and the Latin had a theatrical ring to it. Listening intently, Kit learned that that the life of a queen by the name of Revecu was in danger, due to her disloyalty to the empire, and when Rochester Castle entered the equation, the group of plotters hoped the weather would be fine. Kit was intrigued but continued to keep a low profile, often looking out of the window while eavesdropping, when he suddenly heard a voice nearby.
“Kit Marlowe, as I live and breathe!”
“As you can imagine, I was stunned to be recognised,” he told his fellow diners at Scadbury Manor. “It was only when the man approached my table that I felt he looked familiar, then remembered we had been to school together. I searched my memory for his name, and it came to me: John Dale. We had always got along well in the short time we knew each other in Canterbury before we went our separate ways.”
“This is most interesting,” Sir Francis remarked, while the others nodded. “So, is he implicated in this plot to assassinate our queen?”
“Please, Sir Francis, let me continue.”
And while omitting the reminiscing between John and himself, Kit went on to reveal that the conversation at the inn had revolved around the writing of a play. He introduced the names of the five amateur playwrights, details of their trades and any surrounding information which might be applicable to their enquiries, finally informing them that John had lent him a copy of the script. He outlined the plot of the play but said he wanted to examine it in depth to make sure he had missed nothing sinister or suspicious when he had read through it earlier that day.
“So, Kit, do you think these five young men are involved in a plot to assassinate our queen, covering their plans with this play?” the spymaster enquired.
“Basically, no. As I said, I want to go through the play line by line to see if I can read anything between them which would indicate a seditious intent. I have the script here which you are welcome to look at, but I do intend to write out a copy for you, Sir Francis, to peruse and will make another for my own investigations.”
“A copy of the play would be advantageous. I would welcome familiarising myself with it before making up my mind about its dangers or otherwise. I shall also try to verify their story of inviting the queen to attend the debut at Rochester Castle on her 55th birthday, and whether she actually has any intention of watching this drama at a later date. I am surprised news of this hasn’t filtered down to me, but she has her own staff who deal with the entertainment side of her life, and Edmund Tylney, our Master of Revels, holds sway on such matters.
“Kit, do you know when your friend and his writing colleagues received the reply from Queen Elizabeth’s staff?”
“Not exactly, Sir, but recently as far as I could ascertain. I didn’t pry as I didn’t want to arouse suspicions regarding my ulterior motive for asking, especially knowing that you could find out accurate dates and details from Lord Burghley yourself.”
“Probably wise to continue your low-profile stance, Kit. Also, I have been out of London for a little while, but I shall be returning to there on Tuesday as I have an appointment with her majesty on Wednesday so may find out more then. Perhaps on Thursday you could visit me, Kit and we can exchange news and views.”
“Certainly, Sir. If it’s acceptable to you, I shall travel back to London tomorrow. Tamburlaine has been fully shod and should make the journey easily in the day.”
“Kit, why not stay till Monday? It will give you and Tamburlaine a day to rest and if you leave in the morning, you’ll be able to try your hand at buying the horse, all in daylight.
“Thank you, Sir, for extending the invitation, which I accept gratefully. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Sir Francis gave a wry smile.
“However, do you have a valuation for Tamburlaine from the blacksmith?”
“Yes, I do, Kit, but Thomas has the full details.” He nodded to his cousin who took over the conversation.
“Jack believes he is worth three pounds ten shillings but in London could command a higher price and there is the question of whether the saddle and reins etc would be included – if so, that could raise the cost further.”
As Thomas paused, Sir Francis took up the conversation. “Bear that in mind but please don’t go beyond five pounds, Kit. The government isn’t made of money! If Tamburlaine is not available for less than that, then we shall have to find a similar horse elsewhere for you. You can let me know on Thursday. Would 3:30 that afternoon suit you?
“Yes, Sir Francis, that would be perfect, and I hope to have procured Tamburlaine for less than five pounds well before then. That’s the equivalent of the sale of one play for me, or near enough,” Kit revealed. “so I wouldn’t want to part with that amount, even if it isn’t my own money. Anyway, if Tamburlaine is mine by the end of Monday, I shall bring you the documents to prove it when we next meet.”
“That’s good and all is settled for now. Oh yes, and if you do ride Tamburlaine to Seething Lane, you can give him shelter in the stables behind my house.”
“Thank you very much, Sir Francis,” Kit replied gratefully.
Turning to Matthew, the Spymaster asked, “What do you make of Kit’s findings against yours?”
“I think I may have got it a bit wrong,” Matthew answered looking slightly ashamed.
“Perhaps, only time will tell, but to be fair to you, my boy, Kit had the advantage of knowing this John Dale fellow so was able to get further with his enquiries. I shall also be seeking information from Queen Elizabeth about this whole play affair and take it from there. I shall keep an open mind but may want you and Kit further involved at a later stage if there is any doubt in my mind regarding the safety of our monarch.”
“I shall be happy to help, assisting Kit in any way I can.”
“Thank you, Matthew and thank you, Kit. And Kit, please join me in my office after this meal to show me the script.
“Certainly, Sir.”
Half an hour later, spymaster and intelligencer were in the office, both poring over the script.
“What do you think of the standard of the writing, Kit?”
“Not too bad, though I have been asked to improve it where I can and have already made some notes and will be going through it carefully to see if any other changes would give the audience a more enjoyable outing. Some of the Latin is begging for correction but that’s an easy enough task.”
“Do you mind leaving this with me to peruse tomorrow afternoon? It will be a relaxing way to spend a couple of post-prandial hours, and I shall return it to you in the evening.”
“That’s fine, Sir. I just don’t want to forget it as there is much work to be done on it, in terms of copying and amending, and I don’t feel I can keep it too long.”
Kit was relieved to be without the script for a few hours as it meant he couldn’t persuade himself to work on it. Instead, he decided on an early night, and looked forward to a relaxing day after the hectic fortnight or so since he had left London.
The next day proved to be cool and wet so staying inside was the only option, though Kit had made a quick dash to the stables to visit Tamburlaine before spending the afternoon in conversation with Thomas on various topics. About an hour later they invited Matthew to join them and quizzed him about himself, his studies and aims in life.
“So, Matthew,” Thomas began, “tell us a little about yourself.”
“Well,” began Matthew, “I am from rural Suffolk, and my father is a yeoman and runs the family farm, with help from my mother and paid labourers. I have an older brother called George and three younger sisters. He also studied at St John’s college at Cambridge but is now back at home tutoring the children of the local dignitaries. Having gained my BA last year and in due course my MA, I hope to follow in his footsteps but a few weeks ago agreed to join the spy ring to earn more money for my studies and to pursue some adventures. As far as I know, George was never employed by Her Majesty. In fact, he would have been more likely to enter the church as he is very religious but was also keen to be a tutor and return home to Suffolk and he has achieved his aim. He is walking out with a nice young lady called Frances and I am sure they will be announcing their desire to get married before too long.”
Kit and Thomas were listening intently and coming to the mutual conclusion that Matthew seemed honest enough but also naïve and Kit privately determined to instil some sense and learning of life into him while under his guidance. The three young men than turned to something more exciting: gambling via a couple of games of cards, followed by a session of draughts, with each coming out on the winning side more than once, and slightly richer into the bargain.
After a lazy day, which ended with Sir Francis handing Kit the Queen Revecu script, telling him that he could read nothing between the lines either, but it was possible a plot was within the written words so to look out for any hints, with Kit nodding in agreement.
“By the way, does the play have a title yet, Kit?”
“It has the working title of Queen Revecu but they are hoping to come up with one which might be a little more enticing to an audience. They have even asked me for suggestions, so that’s something else I shall be thinking about.”
“Thank you, Kit, for all you have done over this weekend and sleep well.” Kit knew he was being dismissed and wasn’t sorry to make his way to his room. After packing his belongings, he lay in bed reading the script again before placing it under his pillow, with his dagger. The 8 a.m. call woke him and after doing last-minute packing, he took his bag down to breakfast, after which he took his leave of Sir Francis, Thomas and Matthew who was also starting his journey back to Cambridge. There were secure plans in place to inform Matthew when and where he would be needed and Kit, with the charm he could turn on and off, assured him that he looked forward to working with him.
By 10:30 a.m. Kit and Tamburlaine were heading north. He decided to make straight for the stables near the imposing Nonsuch House, a prefabricated residence which stood on London Bridge along with numerous other less impressive buildings. He hoped he wouldn’t have to return Tamburlaine. As he rode, he rehearsed his best bargaining skills to use on the owner. Just after midday the premises hove into view and before long Kit was in conversation with Robert Alderson. Understandably, the stable owner was initially averse to parting with Tamburlaine, but Kit was patient and persuasive. He pointed out that while he was a few days late returning the horse, the stables would be benefiting from the sovereign he had left as a deposit for his non-return. The arguments to and fro persisted for well over 20 minutes before some middle ground was reached.
“So,” said Robert, “you are prepared to pay two pounds and forgo half a sovereign if I sell this horse to you. Is that right?”
“Yes,” said Kit, “as long as you include the saddle and the other necessities for riding a horse.”
“I’d be giving the horse away.”
“All right, if I forgo the full sovereign, would you do me the deal just outlined?”
“That would still only bring the cost to three pounds and the horse is worth at least that without the riding equipment.”
“Three pounds ten shillings?” queried Kit
“Four pounds and he’s yours, with his saddle etc.”
“Three pounds fifteen shillings is about all I can afford.”
“Then you can’t afford this horse.”
“I’m disappointed. We got on so well and I think he’d miss me.” Kit patted Tamburlaine who whinnied and, as if on cue, laid his head on his would-be master’s shoulder.
“My last offer: Three pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence and he’s yours, as he stands now.”
“He’s mine,” Kit enthused, raising his voice a little and feeling in his purse for the money.
“So, you keep the sovereign I left when I hired him. That makes my payment to you two pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence.”
“That’s right,” agreed Robert Alderson.
Kit held the money tightly in his hand, while asking, “Would you please write out a payment receipt, so I have proof of my purchase?”
“Yes, of course. I am an honest horse dealer and hirer and am happy to put it in writing. Come into the office and we’ll finalise this purchase.”
Kit followed him into a small room with a chair and desk, with papers neatly sacked at one corner. Robert sat down and proceeded to write out the details of the sale. Can you read and write?” he asked Kit.
Kit nodded.
“Good. So what is your name?”
“Christofer Marlowe”
“Christofer with an f?”
“That’s right.”
Robert continued to fill in the receipt, then slid it across to Kit to read, asking him to sign it.
This Kit did before asking, “Sorry to be a total nuisance, but would you please write out another copy for me to take as well?”
“Why do you need two?”
“Well, the horse is a gift from an uncle, and he wants us both to have proof of purchase.”
“Seems fair enough,” Robert conceded, unaware that he was signing a document which the government would eventually file away in the big cupboards where so much documentation was hoarded.
Kit added his signature again and taking both sheets of parchment, handed over the due amount and thanked Robert very much for reaching a mutually agreeable settlement and telling him he would not only take great care of Tamburlaine, but bring him along from time to time to visit him.
“Tamburlaine?” queried Robert.
“Yes, I gave him the name.”
“Did you name him after that play my wife and I saw at The Rose recently?”
“Yes.”
“Any reason why?”
“I wrote it,” replied Kit as he turned and left the office, with a wave of the documents. He then put his head round the door, and said, “I hope you enjoyed whichever of the plays you saw.”
“We did but have only seen the first so far.”
“I’ll tell Philip Henslowe, the owner of the Rose when I see him tomorrow. He’ll be as delighted as I am.”
With that Kit walked to Tamburlaine and waving again to Robert set the horse at a trot as they approached London Bridge. There were stables not far from the rooms he rented, and he decided to get Tamburlaine settled into his new home before eating.
Once across London Bridge he set Tamburlaine to trot on the familiar route home. He passed the street where he lived, turned left and into a stable yard. A young lad greeted him asking if he wanted to leave his horse with them for a while.
“I’ve just bought him,” replied Kit. “And I’d like this to be his new home. How do I go about booking him in on a permanent basis?”
“That’s for the boss to say. I’ll get him.”
The boy walked off and a couple of minutes later returned with a man Kit recognised as someone had had had some pleasant chats with in the local tavern on a few occasions.
“Good afternoon, Sir. My name is Peter Flinte and I am the owner of these stables. Do I understand that you would like to book a stable for your horse on a permanent basis?”
“Yes, that’s right but first I’d like to ask for details of costs and if I can retain the stable while I am away with my horse.”
“The usual price is 7 pence a day, which includes feed and grooming, but not renewing shoes. But for a week, it could be reduced to three shillings and ninepence, that’s six and a half pence a day, paid at the start of the week. Does that sound suitable?”
“Yes, it does, but is there a monthly rate?”
“If you want to pay monthly, the cost would be twelve shillings for the four weeks, or six pence a day.”
“That’s a worthwhile saving and I shall think about it, as it is quite an outlay.”
You can swap between daily, weekly or monthly payment. You can retain the stable by paying in advance, but as he won’t be needing food or grooming, the retaining fee would be half the weekly or monthly amount. We write and date payment slips for you so each time you pay, you have proof.
“That sounds fine. I’d like to book him in for one week to begin with, just to see how he settles.”
“A good idea, some horses settle immediately, others pine for their owners or previous homes, but we take good care of them all and eventually they look upon this as home. We have five permanent residents here so your horse will make six. What’s his name?”
“Tamburlaine”
“Unusual name”
“I got it from a character in a play.”
It’s certainly original. Anyway, bring Tam… er…
“Tamburlaine”
“Yes, bring him along please and I’ll find a nice stable for him with plenty of straw.”
“I imagine that’s a description of all of your stables?”
“Yes,” said Peter. “We treat all the horses in our stables the same, no pampering but we do give them good care.”
“Sounds perfect.”
With that Kit led Tamburlaine to the stable Peter had indicated and the horse walked in as if it was already his home.
Kit handed Peter the three shillings and nine pence for Tamburlaine’s first week in his London home and was given a piece of parchment on which the start and finish date was written, along with the amount received.
In bidding Kit goodbye, Peter told him he could visit any time he liked and see his horse.
Kit thanked him more than once and then made his way to his rooms, to leave most of his luggage, then give the nearest tavern his custom as he was starving. He would have the remainder of the day off, then start on the copying and amending of the play the next morning.
The sunshine next morning woke Kit around 8:30 and he found a plate of bread and honey outside his door, the custom of his landlord who knew his tenant kept unusual hours. Having eaten breakfast, Kit set about revising the Queen Revecu script and aside from breaking off for a light lunch at the tavern and making a small detour to check on Tamburlaine, who seemed fine and delighted to see him, he worked on the script till just after 4:00 p.m.
Pleased with his progress, he laid his quill down and got ready to visit his friends at The Rose. He decided to give Tamburlaine an outing and hoped to leave him for a couple of hours at the stables where he had bought him only the day before. He was in luck and for two farthings Robert Alderson promised to keep him safe. Kit enjoyed the early evening walk to the playhouse where he found Philip Henslowe in his office, with Ned Alleyn, the drama performed that afternoon having ended shortly before. They both greeted him warmly but, with profuse apologies, explained that they had a meeting with a new playwright in the next few minutes but hoped they could all meet up later in the week. Ned suggested a meal at the nearby tavern on Thursday – his day off from the theatre that week – and this suited the three of them. However, remembering his appointment with Sir Francis, Kit told them he wouldn’t be free till 6pm. With a wave and assuring them he would see them on Thursday evening, he left them to await the arrival of the new playwright – someone who had begun to intrigue Kit and he made a mental note to ask Philip and Ned more about this mysterious stranger in their midst.
© Chasqui Penguin, 2024
X/Twitter: @ChasquiPenguin