CHAPTER XXII
"I can't do this," Coby whispered, pressing herself against the back of the tent that formed their tiring house. She was dressed as Columbina, in a full calf-length skirt and a tightly laced bodice that would have shown far too much cleavage, if she had any. She twisted the mask in her fingers, wishing it were full-face to hide her blushes.
"Of course you can," Gabriel said. "You were very good in rehearsals, you know."
"Really?"
"Really. All those years watching me and Dickon didn't go to waste, that's obvious."
She forced a smile. Dickon Rudd, their old troupe's clown, had been killed in the same accident as Master Naismith.
Perhaps realising he had said the wrong thing, Gabriel struck a comic pose, sticking out his padded stomach and splaying his feet in their long slippers. He had been given the part of Il Dottore, since the character of the doctor would allow him to walk with a stick and talk elevated nonsense that no one was supposed to understand. Coby couldn't help but smile at Gabriel's antics; for such a handsome young fellow, he made a very convincing old man, all quavering voice and bowed legs.
"That's better," Gabriel said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Now go, before the audience gets restless. And don't forget what I told you."
She took a deep breath and ducked out of the tent. The low stage had been set up directly in front of it, with a wide circle of bare earth beyond that where the audience sat or stood. A hundred or more pairs of eyes gleamed in the light of the torches set on tall stands to either side of the stage, though the eyes were not on her but on the troupe's leader, Zancani. As Pantalone, he represented the archetypal Venetian merchant: rich, miserly and lecherous. Coby was sure she had bruises on her behind where the little Italian had taken his role rather too seriously during rehearsals. Fortunately her first scene was not with him.
She waited until Pantalone had made his speech and departed, then climbed the short flight of steps onto the stage. You are not Coby Hendricks, Gabriel's voice said in her head, you are Columbina, young and lovely and full of mischief.
"Arlecchino!" She put her hand beside her mouth, to emphasis the action. "Arlecchino?"
Someone in the audience laughed in anticipation. Coby crossed the stage.
"Arlecchino?"
Sandy emerged from the wings opposite, dressed as Il Capitano in his striped sash and a big-nosed mask. "Columbina?"
Coby made an extravagant gesture of mock alarm. "Capitano?"
Sandy bowed clumsily, then drew his sword. It was made of several jointed wooden sections and wobbled comically. The audience laughed at the bawdy image. Coby tutted and wagged her finger, and he put the sword away. Or tried to. It took several attempts, since the blade waved around as he moved it. The audience were helpless with laughter by now, and Coby began to relax. They were not watching her at all, she reminded herself. They were watching Columbina and Il Capitano.
Sandy began making gestures of love, kissing his hands and then stretching them out towards her. She folded her arms and shook her head. He advanced a step and repeated the pantomime. Still she refused him. He pulled a bunch of silk flowers out of his doublet and knelt, holding them out. She pouted, took them – and then hit him over the head with them. There followed a chase around the stage, with the audience cheering them both on.
"Asino! Stupido!" she yelled at Sandy. "Bamboccio!" When she ran out of the Italian insults she had learnt from Zancani, she added a few French ones for good measure. "Bricon! Crapaud!"
At last she paused for breath, fanning herself with the flowers, and Sandy pounced, taking her in his arms. She pretended to struggle until he bent her back over his arm and leant over her, feigning to kiss her. At least, that's what she expected from rehearsals. His dark eyes gleamed in the torchlight and his lips brushed hers, warm and wind-roughened. For a moment, memory of another stolen kiss took over and she kissed him back, then the audience's whoops and catcalls brought her to her senses. As she started to push him away, the juggler cartwheeled onto the stage as Arlecchino, Columbina's lover. Il Capitano took fright and dropped Columbina, who landed on her backside to more roars of laughter. Whilst the two men chased one another around the stage, Coby made a hasty retreat to the dressing-tent, biting back tears of pain and humiliation. How dare he kiss her like that, and in front of everyone!
Backstage the other players congratulated them on a scene well played, but Coby was in no mood for praise.
"What do you think you were doing?" she hissed at Sandy when they were alone again. "You only pretended to kiss me in rehearsal."
He shrugged. "This was not the rehearsal, it was the real thing."
"So that gives you the right to kiss me?"
"It is just a play."
"You're as bad as one another, you men," she muttered, and fought her way out of the tent. Zancani had arranged tonight's play so that his newest performers had only a couple of scenes each, and it would be a while before she was needed again.
She strode across the market square to the well, still hidden from the audience by the bulk of the actors' tent. Hauling up a bucket of water burnt off a little of her anger at Sandy. She pushed up her mask and splashed some of the water on her cheeks, which cooled her temper some more. Footsteps scuffed in the dust behind her.
"If you've come to apologise–"
It was not Sandy but a short stocky man in the rough garb of a farmer, perhaps one of the audience. He leered at her and said something in the local dialect.
"I suggest you leave before I call my friends," she told him in French, not expecting him to understand.
The man just leered again and stepped towards her. Without thinking she crouched in a fighting stance. The man laughed and made a lunge for her. She sidestepped and kicked him hard in the arse so that he stumbled. Cursing now, he turned to face her again.
He spat in the dust. "Puttana!"
"Don't you call me a whore," she muttered.
Stepping quickly forward she grasped his right arm in both hands and twisted it. The man cursed and lost his footing. Coby hooked a heel behind his ankle and threw him to the ground, releasing him as he fell. The man snatched at her leg. She brought the heel of her hand down sharply on his temple, and he slumped to the ground again, moaning.
She strode back towards the tent. Gabriel hurried to meet her halfway, stumbling in his overlong slippers.
"Are you hurt?"