A Second Helping of Cat

I'm revving up for my sabbatical year starting (effectively and after some arduous exam marking and an Italian holiday) in five weeks time. Excitement is building although I shall have to be careful with my pennies.

Anyway I'm using brilliant advice from a Script Angel course yesterday to review all the stuff I've already written so I can improve it and develop my portfolio.

In the meanwhile - hope you enjoy some more Shakespeare's Cat.

As he walked through the town Will wondered if the rest of Stratford was convinced he was a cat thief. No-one met his eye. Surely they knew him better than that! What if they sided with the Miller and the cats were gone for good. In truth they needed flour more than plays, for what is a town without bread? He stopped for a moment, then remembered the look in Susanna's eyes then placed one unwilling for in front of the other. His affairs were in good stead and the house belonged to his wife's family so a roof would still be theirs. In the heavens above a skylark poured out it's heart in liquid notes, long grasses rustled in the breeze. Will ran his hand through it and felt the sharp slice of the grass blade. Even apparent softness could mount an attack when thus provoked. He sighed and turned into the lane leading to the mill.

There was a rustle in the hedgerow and the kittens popped out. Tabitha opened her tiny, pink mouth and squeaked. Why had the Miller abandoned them? But never mind - his problem was solved. Will scooped the kits into his jacket. Behind him came a sharp scratch of stone and then a substantial, rectangular shadow. He turned slowly and held the jacket behind his back as he did so.

'Will Shakespeare,' the Miller's eyes looked like chips of blue Roman glass embedded in flesh.

'Good morrow Millar, how goes it?' Will held out his hand. The Miller's grasp was such that the flesh between his fingers almost welded together and his bones were tensed ready to crack.

'What brings you here?' asked the Miller. The word cats hung in the air between them, but the Miller hadn't actually turned violent. Perhaps the Miller had made a mistake. Only a fool would remind him.

'A stroll to greet my good neighbour,' purred Will. 'It is good to see you in such fine fettle.' He felt the kittens struggle in the jacket. Time to make an exit. 'I shall leave you in piece to grind your corn.' He walked backwards hoping the struggling cats would remain unseen.

'Since it has been so long, come and share a flagon of ale with me,' said the Miller. The Roman blue of his eyes glinted.

'Alas, I have a play to write,' murmured Will tightening his hands on the squeaking parcel.

'So short a visit to enquire about my health?' said the Miller.

'Inspiration is upon me.' Will took a couple of steps backwards. The Miller put a hand of a size that could enfold a shovel upon his shoulder.

'Let us fill our cups and drink to each other neighbour.' From behind them came the sound of childish laughter. The Miller glanced over his shoulder then looked back at Will. 'Your children are well I trust?'

'As full of whims and fancies as every youth should be.'

'Your son is becoming very proficient with a bow and arrow, I hear. But not so attentive with his lessons.'

Will gawped for a moment. Hamnett was skipping school to poach? He sincerely hoped that was not the case. And to be told by the Miller, a man who could not read or write! How little he knew his own son. 'In that case good Mr Miller, I must decline your kind offer and deal with my errant schoolboy. I wish you good day.' Will walked away, not daring to rush but trying to make his feet arrows of firm resolve. As soon as he turned from the lane he dashed home and deposited the kittens into their owner’s laps. Anne kissed him but Will asked for Hamnett.

'Still in the schoolroom love.'

'Then I shall greet our young fellow fresh from his studies.'

Will entered the schoolhouse through the porch. The classroom door was open a crack. Smiling to himself he leaned forward and peeped through. Not a pupil in sight. A small movement caught his eye. The master's face was buried deep within the local tavern wench. Lord. Will felt anger tinged with envy. Still, a man has a duty, and that tavern wench was betrothed to another, so he rapped firmly on the door. He heard a pause, curses and redistribution of clothing, then the schoolmaster bade him enter.

Master Bagnall still had his back to the door when he walked in, but the tavern wench fixed him with a saucy eye. 'Just providing the master with some refreshment. Tis thirsty work teaching all those boys.'

'Speaking of boys, where is Hamnett? Surely these are still hours of learning.'

Bagnall tried to meet Will's eye but the art of focusing was beyond him. Presumably refreshment had been day long. 'Dismissed a little early so they may study their texts in peace.'

'Then maybe we should have recompense for study at home is free.'

'Please sir, would you like to sample my ale?' Without waiting for a reply she filled a tankard to the brim. The foam on top looked most inviting and the day was warm. Will drained it quickly. 'Another?' That too was swiftly dispatched.

'Is my son a worthy student?'

'Not bad, not bad.' It was doubtful if Bagnall could actually remember which one was Hamnett.

'His Latin requires attention. Otherwise how will he understand the great works of the Romans?'

'The Romans!  Dammit, yes of course, the Romans!  Apologies,' he added for the benefit of the tavern wench.

'No offence taken,' she smiled, flashing a dimple. Then she gathered up her empty jugs and walked to the door with Will. He took another look round, remembering the hours spent learning of Ovid, Horace and, of course, the very useful Plautus (thank you Plautus). And , if he wasn’t mistaken, Plautus might also hold the key to the mystery of the kittens.

By the door the pretty tavern wench held out her hand. Will sighed and handed her a penny.

'They say you write plays. Might you ever have a part for me?' Will considered for a moment.

'Alas, only men tread the boards. But who knows, one day there may be a call for the ladies.'

'When there is will you let me know?'

'Certainly, for what is a play without a tavern?' Will winked and the wench flashed her dimple again. Then he proceeded home with a certain swagger.

Anne was admiring a fine brace of wood pigeons when he arrived home. A gift from Hamnett who claimed they were a gift from the local farmer.

'Fine and plumptious aren't they?'  Will nodded and grinned. Anne looked up sharply. 'You've been to the tavern.'

'Nay, to the school room.'

Anne snorted. 'Where there is ale aplenty?' He shifted his feet and decided it was best not to explain.

'Hamnett, I see you are providing for the family now. Must have been a cracking days work with your quill.' His son had the grace to blush. Still tender, thought Will.

'The farmer...' Hamnett tried to explain.

'Oh the farmer! What a generous fellow. Did your whole class receive a brace of game birds?'

'No.' Hamnett was squirming.

'Just you? And,' he spied the bow and arrow in the corner. 'Is archery now on the curriculum?' Luckily Anne was in the pantry so she couldn't hear this exchange. Hamnett fidgeted and hung his head. 'Well boy, I'm waiting.'

'We were bored. So Falstaff went to the tavern at lunchtime and paid the girl to come round. We know he likes her. And the ale.'

'So you played hooky?'

Hamnett nodded. 'But look at these. You should have seen my shot. I took both with one arrow. Only one arrow! The others could scarce believe it. I can hardly myself.'

Will smiled in memory of his own exploits in the Forest of Arden. 'Take care my son. The Lord does not take kindly to poaching.'

'People say you...'

'Take care about what others say. Maybe tis true and maybe not. But best not repeated incase hostile ears serve to increase its broadcast.' A flash of understanding passed between the two. Anne did not need to know.

'How is my play coming on Daddy?'

Will nodded. 'I shall have it finished by the end of this week. I can see it all before me.' And he could.

The girls burst into the kitchen. 'Elizabeth and Mary are coming here in a minute. They say they've got a surprise for us.' For a horrible moment Will thought he meant the Queen but then the panic subsided. As soon as the knock sounded Susanna rushed to open the door. Elizabeth and Mary stood on the threshold holding kitten, one white, one tabby and both wearing purple ribbon about their furry necks.

'What is this?' Anne advanced towards them. The two girls stepped backwards.

'Only our kittens, Blanche and Tabitha.' Will ran upstairs and snatched the kittens from the bed. They were deliciously warm and heavy with sleep. Then he bounded downstairs. Everyone gasped.

'I have solved our mystery,' said Will. 'Two litters, one of white kittens all called Blanche; and the other of tabbies all called Tabitha. Given purple ribbons are all the rage in town and we have a perfect comedy of errors. Best buy some different ribbon or call a kitten by any other name.

'Well done Will,' Anne gave her husband a lingering kiss. Will returned it fine and hearty hoping her goodwill could be banked for later.

 And now to his new play of mistaken identity, farce and reunion. It was easy when you knew the plot.