“We’ll split up here,” said Will. “Nobody knows you were with me, so there’s no sense you catching any trouble.”
“I’ll take my share if it will help you, Will,” said Hamnet, shuffling his feet on the cobbles.
Will put a grateful hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiled. “I know you would, Hamnet. But for now, the best thing for us both is to lie low for a few days.”
“Will, look!” Hamnet exclaimed suddenly. He was pointing back they way they had come.
Will turned quickly and saw to his horror the mounted figure of Old Lousy crossing Clopton Bridge, with his minions filing along behind him.
“Go!” said Will, giving Hamnet a firm shove.
Hamnet nodded and darted off down the High Street to the Sadler family home. Will dashed up Henley Street to his father’s house. Like the other houses on the street it had a frame of sturdy oak timbers filled in with walls of clay and mortar, the latticed windows shut tight against the cold.
The winter of 1578 had been grievously hard, especially for the Shakespeares, whose daughter Anne had died of a chill aged only five. The new year still hadn’t wriggled loose of winter’s grasp and Mary Shakespeare fretted anxiously over the rest of her children every time they set foot outdoors. Will knew she wouldn’t be pleased to find him soaked to the skin and caked with muck. As the eldest, he was expected to set an example for Gilbert, Joan and little Richard.
Opening the door as quietly as he could, he crept up the hallway, hoping he’d be able to clean up before—
“Will? Is that you?”
It was his mother’s voice, coming from the kitchen dead ahead. Before he could twitch a muscle, the door opened and Mary Shakespeare strode out, dusting flour from her hands as she came. She pulled up with a start and stared.
“Will! You look like somebody’s used you to plough up a field!”
“I fell,” Will said lamely.
His mother took a firm hold of his collar and steered him through the left-hand doorway. This was John Shakespeare’s workroom and he was bent over his table, cutting out a glove-shaped pattern from a stretch of soft kidskin.
There were oak rafters overhead, a brick fireplace and a floor that was a patchwork of broken stones, fitted together like the pieces of a puzzle. Animal hides in various states of preparation hung from the walls alongside a variety of blades for cutting them to shape. The far wall was covered by a painted hanging showing their local hero, Guy of Warwick, slaying the monstrous Wild Dun Cow. The cow had been a fairy beast that provided the whole county with milk, until a witch milked it dry and turned it into a man-eater. It was John Shakespeare’s favourite story.
As his wife and son entered, John looked up from his work and set aside his curved, razor-sharp knife. “What’s the bother?” he asked.
“You tell me!” answered his wife. “You said he was out running an errand for you.”
“Did I?” John Shakespeare hooked his thumbs into his leather belt and did his best to glower at his son. “Well, what have you been up to, Will?”
Will understood that this was one of those times when the best course was to tell the truth. “I was over in Charlecote Park, hunting for rabbits.”
His father sighed. “I took you out of school to help me at my work, not to poach off Charlecote land.”
“I thought I’d do us more good by bringing some food into the house instead of stitting around sewing up leather,” said Will. “I’m no good at that work anyway.”
John Shakespeare scowled a moment, giving his wife a sidelong glance to check that she approved of his stern demeanour. Then he leaned towards his son and asked in a conspirator’s whisper. “Did you catch anything?”
“That’s not the point, John!” Mary Shakespeare protested.
Will grinned and laid his bag down on the table. He yanked it open to proudly display the contents to his father. John Shakespeare raised his eyebrows appreciatively and poked the fat rabbits with his forefinger.
“Well, I’ll say this and not be denied: you’re a better poacher than you are a glover.”
“Maybe not,” Will said hesitantly. “We nearly got caught…and one of Sir Thomas’ men spotted me.”
Mary Shakespeare gave a start of alarm, but her husband raised a hand to calm her. “How good a look did he get?” he asked Will.
“Not good, but I heard him say the name Shakespeare.”
John Shakespeare rubbed his chin and pursed his lips, a sure sign that his shrewd brain was hard at work. “At a distance, on a grey day like this – we can deny it, make out you were elsewhere. Given time I can call in a few friendly witnesses.”
Right then a fist pounded at the front door and a voice bellowed, “John Shakespeare! Open up there!”
Will’s heart leapt in panic. “It’s them!” he gasped. “I’m caught!”
“Oh, look at the state of you!” fretted his mother, touching a finger to Will’s damp, dirty jerkin. “We can’t pretend you’ve been home all day.”
“Steady yourselves,” said John Shakespeare in a commanding tone. “I’ve a few tricks in hand yet. Mary, you answer the door, but take your time opening it. Fiddle the latch like it’s stuck. If they ask about Will, say he’s off in Wilmcote with your Arden relatives. Been there a day and a half.”
“John, you’re making a liar of me!” Mary accused. “Again!”
“You’ve such a pretty a tongue for lying I hate to see it wasted,” said John, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. He took Will’s bow and arrows and stashed them under the table with the bag of game. “Come on, Will, it’s out the back way for us. We’ll give them the dodge!”
Will couldn’t help but smile. His father was the fiercest schemer in all of Warwickshire, and even now, with his fortunes at their lowest and troubles on every side, his wits still leapt to a challenge, like Guy of Warwick drawing his sword on a dragon.
“John Shakespeare!” bellowed the voice again. There was more beating at the door, louder this time.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Mary Shakespeare called, moving down the hallway in tiny steps. “Give me a moment to make myself decent!”
Father and son bolted through the kitchen and out of the back door into the yard. There were two outbuildings here where John Shakespeare stored the supplies he needed for his leather business, as well as other items he traded in on the side, like wool and grain. Dodging behind one of these, they made sure the coast was clear before slipping out the back gate.
Looking as casual as possible, so as not to draw attention from passers-by, they
