Meg heard her own voice rise, catch, and betray her. Will must not go to prison! He could die there like her father. She turned back to the bench but the judge was already hearing a new case. That quickly, Will was forgotten as if he had never been there.
Meg saw the smug and smiling William Burbage leaving the court. Had he bribed the judge? If he could afford that, he did not need Shakespeare’s money! She fell into step behind him. In her lawyer’s robe she resembled a thousand other men who scurried like ants in their service of their hidden queen, Justice. It would be an easy matter to rob a fat-gut like William Burbage. Then as Meg she would go to him and pay Will’s debt—with Burbage’s own money! The justice of it pleased her.
The debt paid, Will must be released from prison.
As she tried to discern where Burbage wore his purse, she saw his brother approaching. She slipped behind a pillar and strained to hear their conversation.
“Is the case concluded already?” James Burbage asked.
“Aye,” said William. “The law does not wait on you or any man.”
“Where is the young man? Did the judge agreed to our terms?”
Our terms? Meg frowned. Was James also a party to this injustice?
“I did it on my terms, not yours,” said William harshly. “Shakespeare is off to Bridewell.”
“Damn your greed!” said James. “You know he does not deserve prison.”
“Brother, you would forgive the devil himself for cheating you.” William’s laugh was scornful. “Come now; we have a meeting with Lord Leicester.”
Meg knew who was the head of the brothers’ enterprise and who was its heart. Quickly she contrived a new plan to aid Will. Coming forth, she greeted James Burbage.
“I am Matthew Mandamus and I would speak with you, sir.” Her manner was polite but determined.
“Mandamus? We command?” said James, amused. Evidently he knew Latin.
“He is Shakespeare’s attorney,” William muttered. “I’ve finished with him.”
“The judge is deaf in both ears; I pray you are not,” said Meg.
“Go on,” said James, peering at her.
“My client esteems you greatly. He did earnestly desire to be employed by you.”
“I would not hire a son of John Shakespeare to clean my boots,” said William.
“One day you will gladly pay for the privilege of licking his boots,” Meg shot back in a very unlawyerlike way.
James stepped in front of his brother and drew Meg apart. “Speak your purpose and be quick. I have other business.”
“Sir, your business ought to be with this actor destined to blaze across London like a comet through the sky. O the stage of an inn is too narrow for his greatness! Do you know he is a poet too? His pen is sharper than a sword and his words sink deep into every listener’s heart.”
Meg hardly knew where her words came from, but the feeling behind them was true. She went on. “Would you let this most excellent poet languish in prison when he could grace your stage? If you give Will Shakespeare a place in your company, you shall earn a hundred times the paltry sum his father owes.” She was trembling at having said so much.
James Burbage stroked his beard and regarded Meg. “I swear, but for your garb you resemble the young woman who came with Will Shakespeare to my theater.”
Meg reached up and touched her cap nervously.
“Pay him no heed,” said William in a surly tone. “Lawyers, like actors, are skilled liars.”
James shook his head slowly. “I doubt this is a lawyer, William.”
Meg gulped. Despite the two layers of disguise she felt suddenly naked.
“What do you mean?” said William. “He is Mandamus, a green lawyer barely out of his boyhood.”
“Nay, I have transformed many a fellow into the fashion of a woman. I know all the tricks. This is the most excellent disguise I have yet beheld,” said James in a low voice. He smiled at Meg like a conspirator.
Meg’s heart was pounding. “I do not understand you,” she said, though she understood perfectly well that Burbage recognized her.
“Mandamus,” said James, “I insist you join my players.” He leaned closer and whispered in Meg’s ear, “No one but you and I will know your secret, I promise.”
This was not the outcome Meg was aiming for. She was pleading on Will’s behalf. It took her a moment to fashion a reply.
“I will. If you free Will Shakespeare and hire him today.”
In the silence that followed, Meg feared she had overplayed her part.
“Come, Lord Leicester awaits us,” said William impatiently.
“Then go to him; say I will come anon.” James waved his brother away.
“Stay, William!” ordered Meg. “Write here that the debt is paid and sign your name.” She offered the reverse side of the summons.
“I will not!” he said.
“Do it!” said James. “Leicester will not be pleased to lose two promising players over a small legal matter.”
A scowling William signed the paper and threw it at Meg.
“Come, Mistress Mandamus,” said James, taking Meg’s arm. “Let us redeem the prisoner and restore his freedom.”
Only with difficulty could Meg restrain herself from leaping for joy.
After obtaining the services of a moneylender and emptying his own purse, James Burbage had in hand the funds necessary for Will’s release.
“This would make a most excellent device,” said Burbage as they hastened to Bridewell prison. “The hero, a rural fellow, is wrongly arrested and imprisoned, whereupon his beloved, disguised as a lawyer, argues his innocence and frees him. In the end they are married.” He rubbed his hands together in delight. “Your Will shall pen this and you and he play the principal parts.”
Meg blushed. “You misunderstand our friendship.”
Burbage gave her a sharp, knowing look. “I do not.”
Is this man a soothsayer? Meg wondered how he could know what she had not admitted even to herself.
They reached the prison to find Will not yet chained to the terrible millstone. He was relieved to see Meg, surprised to see Burbage, and stunned by the news that he and Mack were now members of Burbage’s company. James took his leave of them to attend on Leicester while Will and Meg—still wearing her lawyer’s robe—repaired to a nearby alehouse to celebrate.
“You must call yourself Matthew Mandamus,” Will said, raising his cup. “’Tis a fine name for a player. You will command the stage.”
Meg smiled, trying to hide her misgivings. How could she keep her disguise from Will and the other players when Burbage knew she was a woman? And why, O why keep up the pretense of being Mack now that Will’s debt was settled? How sorely she wanted to tear off her cap, shake out her hair, and speak in her own voice!
“Why did Burbage hire me? What if I disappoint him?” she mused.
“Pishery-pashery!” Will dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. “Today you proved your skill in feigning. Not a soul suspected you were no lawyer.”
But Burbage had known, so why not Will?
“Just think, Mack. You and I shall work together every day!”
“Too much closeness may rub and fray our friendship,” said Meg. It was a mild way to sum up her fears.
Will shook his head. “Rather, by such closeness we shall grow one conjoined heart, like twins.” He tilted his head and winked at her.
What does he mean by that? “You are in love with your own cleverness, Will. And I am in love with my mattress, for it has been a long and wearisome day.”
She rose to leave and Will followed her into the street. The brisk air sent Meg’s thoughts skittering like leaves. If she worked for Burbage, would she have to leave the Boar’s Head, leave Gwin and Violetta? And for what? A double life even more confusing than her present one. With Will, she would be Mack feigning to be Matthew Mandamus. With Burbage, she would be Meg feigning to be Matthew feigning to be whatever character he made her play.
“I’m going off to piss,” said Will, a little drunk.
Meg continued on her way, ruminating. If Will decided to visit Meg at the Boar’s Head, she would have to run ahead of him and become Long Meg again. Had she purchased Will’s freedom at the price of her own sanity?
“Stop there, scoundrel,” someone said. She paid no heed, for she was just a confused young woman on her way home.
But when she heard “I know you, Mack,” she paused. Her heart pounded with alarm. Slowly she turned to find herself facing a man with a scarred hollow at his temple, a very ugsome fellow.
“I don’t know you,” she said. “Leave me alone.”
The street was crowded with people. Will was somewhere nearby. No one would assault her in the presence of so many witnesses. Still her hand touched her leg where the dagger was hidden.
The man opened his greasy jerkin to reveal a pistol in his belt. He waved a document at Meg and said in a tone of smug triumph, “Under this warrant and in the name of the Queen’s Majesty, I arrest you, Mack, alias Long Meg de Galle, for the assault upon one Roger Ruffneck.”