Date: Sat, 30 Aug 2008 11:57:25 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: The Strolling Players 05/18 (historical)

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THE STROLLING PLAYERS
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2008
written on June 3, 1992
translated by the author
English text kindly revised by The Australian

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE STROLLING PLAYERS" is a gay story, with some parts containing
graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion,
family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better
not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't
care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my
welcomed guest.

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CHAPTER 5 - Vance, an unwillingly guest of the King

Vance got up form Horace's bed and started to dress, The young man gave
him the usual small coins bag.

"How long will you still stay in London?" he asked the boy.

"Only two more weeks. We already have engagements in other places after
that."

"So then we can meet just two or three more times, possibly four, I
don't know. I am sorry - you are one of the most agreeable boys I ever
had in my bed, do you know that? If my family were not so much puritan
about my sexuality, I would like having you in my service, to have you
with me all the time."

"But I love being an actor. I don't know if I would be a good servant. I
like you. I like how you make sex with me, but I am first of all an
actor."

"But you don't act in bed."

"Of course I don't. As much as I like going to bed, especially when I
can have sex there with a young man like you, however, the bed is not
all my life."

"Before we lose sight of each other, I would like to give you a present.
Is there something you desire and that I can give you?"

"Nothing in particular... Or possibly yes - the clothes you were wearing
the first time we met in Ilford. I would like wearing them on the stage,
when I have to perform in man's attire."

"I willingly will give them to you. I don't wear them any more and I
will be pleased knowing that you use them. You may have to adapt them to
your body, as mine is a little bigger than yours."

"I have to go. Thank you, Horace, see you next time."

"See you soon, Vance."

The boy left the inn. He was as usual hiding part of the coins, when he
caught sight of a group of men coming towards him in the half darkness
of the narrow street, and occupying it's full width. Seeing this made
him suspicious and worried. He turned back hoping to take another way,
but saw other men were converging towards him, blocking so any escape.
He asked himself what they could want from him. Rob him? Possibly. He
was no longer near the inn and all the houses in that street were dark
and silent, thus it would be useless shouting for help.

He felt strangely calm. He staid still and waited. When the men were
around him, one of them approached from the back with a lantern in his
had lighting up his face.

"Are you the so called Elton, Vance Elton?" the man asked him.

Vance was astounded. How could a man that he never met before, know his
name? The man repeated his question in a rougher tone.

"Yes, it's me... Who are you? What do you want?"

"The King's service. You are under arrest."

"Under arrest? What for? I never did anything wrong. I never stole,
killed, I never..."

"This doesn't concern us. We just know that a warrant has been issued
against your name. You will deal with it with the magistrate. Do not
oppose us. Just follow us, or we would have to use force."

"Who says you really are the king's guards? You are not even wearing his
colours. How could you know you would meet me here?"

"It's not up to us to answer your questions. Come with us without making
any fuss."

Vance looked around and studied the hard and impenetrable expressions of
the men, barely lit by the lantern. They were not robbers, it was clear.
They were too many of them to think about fighting them or simply
running away.

So he said, "Alright, let's go."

Two went at his sides tightly seizing his arms. Three men preceded them
and three more followed, while the man with the lantern made way in
front of them all.

Vance murmured, "Nine men to arrest me? What can I have done to warrant
such an escort?"

They walked in he night, at first through alleys and lanes, then through
wider streets, until they reached a stronghold. There the man with the
lantern knocked at the gate. A Judas-hole opened, the man showed a sheet
of paper and said something. After a while the gate opened just a little
without any noise, the squad went in and Vance was led through
communication trenches and wicket-doors to the entrance of a keep.

The man with the lantern knocked again, showed his sheet of paper and
again said something then Vance was pushed through the small door that
had just been opened. Here two armed soldiers, wearing the King's
colours, took the boy in trust. They took him through a corridor lit by
a few torches hanging at the walls, to a cell where they shut him. Vance
found himself in the total darkness.

"Is somebody here?" the boy asked as the door was locked at his back.

No answer, no noise, nothing. Vance stretched out his arms and
cautiously explored the space around him. Turning back, he felt the door
wood from where he had been pushed. Making his hands slip along the cold
stone wall at the right of the door, and slowly moving his feet not to
stumble over an unseen obstacle, he started to move. Following the wall
he soon got to a corner. Following the other wall, he touched something
with his knee. He bent to explore it with his hands. It was a wooden
wide horizontal surface against the wall. It was possibly a place to lay
down even though there were neither a straw mattress nor a blanket. Yes,
the size was right for accommodating a lying body.

He thought, "The best thing to do is to sleep and I will see what
happens tomorrow. They will have to explain something to me won't they?
Who knows what my companions would think if they did not see me return?
Will they look for me? Will they find me? Will I be able to send them a
message?"

With these and more questions in his head, Vance felt himself getting
sleepy. He curled on the wooden surface and felt the coins pouch, tied
to his belt, press against his hip - they didn't take it away. "Who has
money has hope" Tim used to say. "We will see tomorrow..." Vance
repeated to himself while he was falling asleep.

He was woken up by a sound like that of a cracked bell. From a small
window high in the wall came some light giving little light to the cell.
The room was small, just three times the plank-bed were he slept. In a
corner there was a bucket. In front of the rough bed was the door from
which he had pushed, with a Judas-hole closed on the outside. Nothing
else.

The walls were covered with graffiti, words, but Vance was not able to
read them. There were also a few drawings carved on the stones of the
walls. Vance smiled when he saw the drawing of two naked men, one with a
huge cock that was fucking the other.

He sat on the plank-bed and waited. The light ray from the small and
unreachable window was slowly moving from a stone to another, marking
the passage of the time. After a long while, the Judas-hole opened.

"Is the bucket to be emptied?"

"No, I didn't yet use it. How long do I have to stay here? Will you give
me something to eat? Can I meet somebody explaining me why I'm under
arrest? Can I send a message to my companions?"

"You will stay there until a magistrate grills you. Food, later. No
messages until the magistrate says you can." the voice said and the
Judas-hole shut.

Vance sat again, disheartened. Not to get bored, he started to mentally
rehearse all the plots of the plays in their repertory. When the light
ray almost reached the floor, a low window opened on the door, at the
floor level; a piece of plank with a wooden mug filled with water, a
wooden bowl filled with a greyish steaming mush and a wooden spoon, and
a greyish piece of bread, was pushed inside. The low window was closed
again. Vance picked up from the floor all and put it near him on the
plank-bed, then smelled the bowl. The smell was not inviting but not
even bad. He took a little with the spoon and hesitantly tasted it. It
was a little rancid and it could have been made of cabbage and beans.
Not so bad. He ate all alternating with bites of that stale bread then
licked the interior of the bowl. He decided to leave the water for
later.

He walked up and down in the narrow cell's space - five steps forwards,
about-turn, five steps backwards, about-turn, over and over. Always
keeping his head busy by rehearsing their plays. The sunray was now
moving upwards on the opposite wall. It was becoming dark. Vance drank a
draught of water, then moved it under the plank-bed, not risking so
hitting it with his feet when darkness came. He went to the bucket, took
away the lid, crouched on it and emptied himself. He tidied his breeches
and replaced the lid. It was almost impossible to see, at that point. He
lay on the plank-bed and looked at the light gradually disappearing.

After four days of this life, just after the meal time, he finally heard
that the door was being opened. Two soldiers went in, tied his wrists
between two wooden bars tied with a rope and lead him outside.

"Are you taking me to the magistrate?" Vance asked.

The two soldiers didn't answer. They left the keep and outside he was
entrusted to a squad of four soldiers and a man who was dressed in a
different fashion and without weapons. They passed through yards and
trenches, staying inside the fortress. The entered a two story building
against the tall embattled wall. Here, in the first room, he waited
standing amidst the four soldiers, while the man disappeared into
another room.

A few minutes later, the man came out and made a sign. Two of the
soldiers escorted Vance to another room. There was a big table and
behind it were sitting three aged men wearing wide black frock-coats
with wide white collars. The one sitting at the middle had golden
decorations on the hems of is frock-coat. On the table there were papers
and an inkpot with a goose feather in it. The one sitting on the right
and having the inkpot in front of him, read aloud from a paper:

"The King versus Elton Vance. You are charged with robbery and attempted
murder to the detriment of His Grace Lord Stephen Charles August
Walsingham, Peer of the Kingdom."

Vance listened, amazed, and exclaimed, "Eh? What?"

The magistrate sitting on the left thundered, "Silence! The defendant
has no right to talk until he is questioned! If you utter one more word,
you will be punished with ten strokes of the whip!"

Vance fell silent and looked dismayed at the three men, especially at
the one who just read the accusation.

The magistrate sitting in the centre, asked in a bored tone, "When, how
and where happened the aforesaid facts?"

The one who read the charges, looked for another paper, then started to
read, "Excerpts from the accusation report undersigned by the Lords
Walsingham, Moore and Stepley, all three present at the fact. The here
standing Elton stealthily introduced himself on Lord Walsingham's
mansion in the day 23rd of May of this year, at the Angelus hour,
striding over the garden's wall and breaking a window's glass on the
second floor. As the servants heard a noise, they warned their master
who, with his guest, went upstairs catching the here standing Elton who
with a dagger was trying to open a casket containing jewels. At the
unexpected arrival of the aforesaid Lords, the defendant dashed himself
against Lord Walsingham in an attempt to stab him at his heart, and
causing a cut on the Lord's doublet. Readily immobilized by the two
other Lords, the defendant was disarmed and carefully tied up. It was
sent to call the guards to take the defendant in custody and delivered
to the justice. This is all."

Vance was slowly shaking his head, unbelieving.

The head magistrate looked at the boy with a severe expression and
asked, "Do you confess? Do you plead guilty? If you plead guilty and you
repent, the King's Court could use clemency and sentence you to just ten
years prison."

Vance was more and more astounded and unbelieving, and with a chocked
voice murmured, "Ten years? Is this a joke? Guilty, I? It is a
nonsense... a nonsense... This is just a comedy, and even with a really
bad plot, I can assure you..."

"Do you then deny?" the magistrate interrupted him with harshness.

"If I deny? Of course I deny! I never had a dagger, I never even
imagined in a dream to rob somebody. I don't know that Lord Walsingham
or where is mansion is... Lord Walsingham? Lord Horace Walsingham?"
Vance asked while a thought occurred to him.

He suddenly understood, or he thought he did. Could it be that Horace's
father discovered the secret meeting of his son with him, and he was now
accusing him just to get rid himself with that absurd accusation. And
Vance at once understood that he could not hope to be exonerated by
Horace. It would be absolutely no use bring him up, and regretted he
said his name. He thought all this and quickly decided what his
behaviour should be.

The magistrate said, "So, you confess you know Lord Walsingham."

"Milord, I'm just an humble actor. When my company performed at Lord
Fernhust's mansion in Ilford, I remember that amongst his noble guests
there was also Lord Horace Walsingham. This has been the only time I saw
him and I heard his name."

"This does not prove you are innocent of what has been reported against
you."

"Milord, I am not a cultivated boy, but I swear that I am totally
innocent of the charges made against me. I was not arrested in that
Lord's mansion, but on the street. You can ask to those who arrested me.
If I really went in that mansion, do you think I would have told them my
name? When they came to arrest me in the street and asked me if I was
Vance Elton, do you think I would have said at once yes. Furthermore, do
you think I would not have attempted to run away, to deny? When I was
brought to this fortress I was not even tied up, you can ask to the
keep's men who put me in the cell. I am not a cultivated boy, but don't
you think that all this is rather weird?"

The three magistrates asked some more questions to the boy, who readily,
without any hesitation answered, telling them always the truth but never
involving Horace and their meetings. He was finally taken back to his
cell. Vance, worn out, threw himself on the plank-bed trying to relax
and tried to put his thoughts in order.

Yes, this was certainly Horace's father organizing revenge. Possibly
Horace didn't even know about it. If pleading guilty, he would be
sentenced to ten years jail, and if they didn't believe he was innocent,
how would they sentence him? Possibly even with death? The thought made
Vance shudder.

Five more days elapsed in isolation in that bare cell, all monotonous,
all unending. Then the door was opened once again.

The warden's voice announced, "A visit!"

An imposing-looking man, wearing dark clothes, went in and the door was
locked behind him. The man looked at Vance and gauged the boy from head
to toe. Vance stood up, slightly worried

With a low and warm voice, the man said, "Let's sit down, my boy. I am
Lord Mountbatten. I have been entrusted with your defence by Master
Martin of Greenford, who..."

"Master Martin of Greenford? He... did he know?"

"He evidently did. You can understand that he cannot expose himself and
give evidence for you, but he entrusted me your case and he will pay all
the needed expenses. He also charged me to have you moved in a more
comfortable part of the prison. He deeply appreciated your discretion
during the first hearing... you do understand me, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. It would have been of no avail to involve him, to tell
his name..."

"It would rather have worsened the situation. He also asked me to tell
you her really regrets what is happening to you."

"It is not his fault. I was rather asking myself... I think it has been
that servant he believed he could trust who instead sold me... I can't
see who else..."

"We too think so, but unhappily it is now too late to provide a remedy.
I want just warn you about a few points. I have read the verbal with the
declarations you released to the magistrates in occasion of your first
hearing. A very good defence line. Go on in that way and always remember
that in here the walls have ears. Never confide with anybody, other than
me. Just answer the questions I ask you. Is it clear?"

"Absolutely clear, milord."

"I see that you are smart and quick witted. Now, seeing you, I also can
understand why Master Martin appreciated your services so much."

"You know about them?"

"I certainly do. I am his friend and share with him some of his
preferences, tastes... if you understand what I am referring to."

"Yes, it is perfectly clear. But tell me, do you think you will be able
to take me out of here?"

"I hope it but, honestly, I cannot be certain. Anyway many things can be
obtained with money and as long as you stay in prison, I surely can have
you moved to a more comfortable place, where you can have company,
regular and good meals, changes of clothes, and decent bedding. It would
certainly not be like being in a mansion or in one's own house, but
almost like being in a reasonably good inn... even though it may have
iron bars at the windows and soldiers at the doors. I cannot grant you
anything more for the moment. Master Martin asked me to assure you he
will not abandon you."

"He could have forgotten me. Why didn't he?"

"Because he is a man of honour, and because he has really good memories
of you."

"He always paid well for my services... He owes nothing more to me."

"What you say does you twice the honour. He was right telling me that
you deserve his help. I shall now leave you. Soon you will be moved, and
once a week one of my servants will come to give you some money so that
you can get what you can need. If you have a message to send to me, do
it with much discretion. You can trust my man. Don't lose heart, I will
do my best to get you out of prison as soon as possible. Goodbye, my
boy."

"Goodbye, Milord, and thank you. Ah, I have a kindness to ask you. Can
you possibly get word to my companions about what has happened me? I
think they may be worried about my sudden disappearance."

"Surely. I think they are still in London. I will get word to them and
will tell them what has happened. For the moment, take these. Goodbye,
then."

The man gave him a purse of coins, stood up and went to knock on the
door. While he was going out he still waved a goodbye to Vance. The boy
answered with a little smile and sat again on the plank-bed. He counted
the coins and put them together with the other he had. He then lay down,
thinking back to the conversation he had just had. Hope appeared to him
again.

Two days later Vance was transferred to another prison. He again, well
escorted, passed through yards and passages between the tall walls until
he was introduced into another keep. It was his new prison. The warden
first introduced him in a wide hall at the first floor where were
several other guards, then up a narrow stairway cut in the thick of the
stone wall, to an octagonal room from which opened several doors.

The warden opened one of them, "Here, this will be your cell. You are
free to move on this floor and on the one above this that you can reach
through that stairway, but you cannot go back downstairs. Anyway there
is a closed door. I or one of my substitutes will come three times each
day to check that everything is alright. One of the three times will
come also the soldiers for the daily inspection. Some of the guests
living here have also a personal servant. If you want you can ask one of
the servants, when he goes out for an errand, to buy for you something.
Also food if you don't like what we give you or if it's not enough. On
every Sunday you can also receive visits, but only one visitor at a time
will be allowed to come here."

The warden went on so, listing all the regulations. Vane felt amused at
the fact that the Warden was calling the prisoners "guests". He looked
around. The room was small but fairly good. A wide cross window, well
closed by crossed iron bars, opening to the fortress wall and beyond it
there was a glimpse of the city's roofs and some churches bell-towers.
In a corner of the room there was a wide and massive bed with a straw
mattress and some covers. There was also a table with two chairs, and
empty shelf and a trunk for clothes.

The walls were of plain stone, but were decorated by little half columns
in bas-relief and a decorative band of leaves and flowers, also in
bas-relief. The wooden furniture was of a simple make but had a rather
sober elegance. The warden greeted him and went downstairs, locking the
stair door at his back with a big key. Vance tested the bed - it was
rather soft. He went to the window and opened it, letting the fresh air
enter. He leaned against the crossing bars and looked at the landscape.
He heard a knocking at the door.

"Come in!" he shouted turning back.

The door opened and a middle-aged gentleman, elegantly dressed, entered.

"We have been told that soon we would have a new lodger here in our
castle! I am Lord Shelley. Who are you, and why have you been shut in
here?"

"My name is Vance Elton and I am an actor. I have been unfairly charged
with attempted robbery and attempted murder. But I'm innocent, I swear!"

"Oh, we all are innocent in here. And we all are shut here with totally
different charges than the real reason why we have been put here. For
instance, I am here with the charge of treachery. In reality I dared to
refuse the advances of one of our King's sister..."

Vance looked at him astounded, "Was she then so ugly? Or else, don't you
like women?"

"Neither one nor the other. Simply, if I accepted, I would have risked
winding up in this place thanks to the husband of her highness... I
would not have had any way out. But come with me, I will introduce you
to the other gentlemen with whom you have to share... our sovereign's
hospitality."

Vance was fascinated by the light, almost easy-going way with which Lord
Shelley was talking of their situation.

The man, made him tour both the floors. At his same floor there was the
cell of lieutenant Trevor, charged with desertion, and of Master Oliver,
a goldsmith, charged with fraud, for having sold some court aristocrats
imitation jewels. The fourth cell was empty. On the upper floor were
living Lord Shelley with his servant Charles and Lord O'Neil with his
servant Stewart. Lord O'Neil was a young Irish aristocrat, just one year
older than Vance. He was in prison because he had fought for his land
independence from the English. The cells on that floor were double and
one was free. Lord Shelley showed Vance the well and the small latrine
they all had in common. There was also a communal kitchen and a small
chapel where each Sunday a friar came for the Holy Mass.

Lord Shelley's room was filled with books and papers. In that of Lord
O'Neil, besides some books, there was also a lute and a beautiful chess
set carved in precious ivory. Master Oliver passed his time carving
small and gracious wood objects, and the lieutenant was spending his
time in playing Long Patience using old and worn tarots coming from the
Middle East. Three times per day they all gathered at the upper floor
for the meals that they always ate all together. Vance understood,
without needing to be told, that Lord Shelley was practically a kind of
natural leader of that small community.

When the tour was over, Vance went back to his cell and lay on his bed.
He was thinking of Lord Lionel O'Neil, at his sad but beautiful face. I
would have liked to get to know him. He surely would have all the needed
time for that.

Somebody knocked at his door. It was Charles who was about to go out on
some errands and asked Vance if he needed anything from outside. Vane
gave him some coins asking him to buy some food and, as the servant was
leaving, he again lay on the bed.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 6

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In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to
read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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