Part 36 (1/2)

But Simon Attwood went down to the river, and sat upon a flat stone under some pollard willows, and looked into the water.

What his thoughts were no one knew, nor ever shall know; but he was fighting with himself, and more than once groaned bitterly. At first he only shut his teeth and held his temples in his hands; but after a while he began to cry to himself, over and over again, ”O Absalom, my son, my son! O my son Absalom!” and then only ”My son, my son!” And when the day began to wane above the woods of Arden, he arose, and came up from the river, walking swiftly; and, looking neither to the right nor to the left, came up to the Great House garden, and went in at the gate.

At the door the servant met him, but saw his face, and let him pa.s.s without a word; for he looked like a desperate man whom there was no stopping.

So, with a grim light burning in his eyes, his hat in his hand, and his clothes all drabbled with the liquor from his vats, the tanner strode into the dining-hall.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

The table had been cleared of trenchers and napkins, the crumbs brushed away, and a clean platter set before each guest with pared cheese, fresh cherries, biscuit, caraways, and wine.

There were about the long table, beside Master Shakspere himself, who sat at the head of the board, Masters Richard and Cuthbert Burbage, Henry Condell, and Peter Hemynge, Master Shakspere's partners; Master Ben Jonson, his dearest friend; Thomas Pope, who played his finest parts; John Lowin, Samuel Gilburne, Robert Nash, and William Kemp, players of the Lord Chamberlain's company; Edmund Shakspere, the actor, who was Master William Shakspere's younger brother, and Master John Shakspere, his father; Michael Drayton, the Midland bard; Burgess Robert Getley, Alderman Henry Walker, and William Hart, the Stratford hatter, brother-in-law to Master Shakspere.

On one side of the table, between Master Jonson and Master Richard Burbage, Cicely was seated upon a high chair, with a wreath of early crimson roses in her hair, attired in the gown in which Nick saw her first a year before. On the other side of the table Nick had a place between Master Drayton and Robert Getley, father of his friend Robin.

Half-way down there was an empty chair. Master John Combe was absent.

It was no common party. In all England better company could not have been found. Some few of them the whole round world could not have matched then, and could not match now.

It would be worth a fortune to know the things they said,--the quips, the jests, the merry tales that went around that board,--but time has left too little of what such men said and did, and it can be imagined only by the brightest wits.

'Twas Master Shakspere on his feet, welcoming his friends to his ”New Place” with quiet words that made them glad to live and to be there, when suddenly he stopped, his hands upon the table by his chair, and stared.

The tanner stood there, silent, in the door.

Nick's face turned pale. Cicely clung to Master Jonson's arm.

Simon Attwood stepped into the room, and Master Shakspere went quickly to meet him in the middle of the floor.

”Master Will Shakspere,” said the tanner, hoa.r.s.ely, ”I ha' come about a matter.” There he stopped, not knowing what to say, for he was overwrought.

”Out with it, sir,” said Master Shakspere, sternly. ”There is much here to be said.”

The tanner wrung his hat within his hands, and looked about the ring of cold, averted faces. Soft words with him were few; he had forgotten tender things; and, indeed, what he meant to do was no easy thing for any man.

”Come, say what thou hast to say,” said Master Shakspere, resolutely; ”and say it quickly, that we may have done.”

”There's nought that I can say,” said Simon Attwood, ”but that I be sorry, and I want my son! Nick! Nick!” he faltered brokenly, ”I be wrung for thee; will ye na come home--just for thy mother's sake, Nick, if ye will na come for mine?”

Nick started from his seat with a glad cry--then stopped. ”But Cicely?”

he said.

The tanner wrung his hat within his hands, and his face was dark with trouble. Master Shakspere looked at Master Jonson.

Nick stood hesitating between Cicely and his father, faithful to his promise, though his heart was sick for home.

An odd light had been struggling dimly in Simon Attwood's troubled eyes.