The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [272]
He didn’t read very well, but it was enough to expose the lapses in the playwright’s inspiration. Crowding round him they found some Udall, and Philippa, clad in her drakes’ necks, declaimed a sentence or two. Lymond, finding a ready-made balcony on some high shelf, perched himself on it, gesticulating, and recited some more. The stand rocked.
‘My God,’ said Ludovic d’Harcourt, echoing the Yeoman of the Revels, for other reasons entirely. ‘Listen to this. Love and Life, by William Baldwyn. A Comedy concerning the Way to Life. There be in it of sundry personages 62, and the play is three hours long. I bring in a young man whom I name Lamuel, who hath a servant called Lob. These two will attempt the world to seek their fortune. They meet with Lust, Luck and Love. Lust promiseth them Lechery——’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Lymond said.
‘Be quiet,’ said Philippa. ‘Go on, Ludo.’
‘They follow Luck and through Lechery be lost, then through Luck they recover. Luck bringeth them to Lordship, from which through … I can’t go on,’ said d’Harcourt, painfully. ‘It says all the players’ names begin with L.’
‘And so they do,’ said Philippa, reading. ‘Leonard Lustyguts an Epicure. Lame Lazar a Spittleman. Liegerdemayn an Old Courtier; Lammarkin, a Lance knight; Little-lookedfor, Death; Layies Lechery a Sumtuous Hore.… But the play is missing.’
‘They never did it,’ Nicholas Chancellor said. He, too, was flushed with pleasure, in this unforeseen romp in the Revels. ‘It was all full of Ls.’
‘I can guess,’ Philippa said. There was a wig box beside her. She hauled off the sock and jammed on her head a long flaxen wig, with a headpiece of spangled white sarsanet. ‘I’m Lechery, a Luscious Hore …’
‘Wait,’ said Lymond. His jerkin off, he was rummaging shirt-sleeved through the stands: a moment later, he emerged with a long Turkey gown which he tossed to d’Harcourt. ‘Come on, Hospitaller. You’re Lame Lazar. Nicholas, you can be Luck. And’—as Nicholas caught the red cloth cloak tossed him—‘and I, of course, shall be Lamuel the Lewd.’ A satin doublet of hideous orange engulfed him for a moment, and then he pulled it down, and began to tramp, without progressing, before Philippa. ‘Now go on.’
‘I’ve forgotten.… No, I haven’t,’ said Philippa. Long Sunday evenings of nonsensical charades with Kate and Gideon paraded before her, and evenings spent devising songs, and poems, and doggerel, with Ls or without.… She drew breath and started, haltingly, making it up as she went.
‘I’m Lechery a Luscious Hore
A Lady Loose who Lists to Lower
Her Limbs upon a Lance Knight’s Lap
His Lips to Buss and Cheeks to Clap.…’
‘Very good. Not enough Ls in the last line,’ said Lymond critically.
‘Then you do better,’ said Philippa, incensed.
‘Gentlemen!’ said the Yeoman.
‘And I, Limp Lamuel Longing Sigh,
Beside Light Lechery to Lie
Lo Here I Learn my Lesson Lewd
And Love and Lounge in Lassitude.’
‘What in God’s name is going on?’ said Sir Henry Sidney’s voice, from behind stacks of shelving.
‘Go on,’ said Philippa. ‘The Lazar.’
‘I can’t,’ said Ludovic d’Harcourt, clutching his gold gown about him.
‘Why not? Go on,’ said Philippa.
‘I can’t think of any words,’ said d’Harcourt apologetically.
‘Never mind,’ Lymond said. ‘Say after me:
‘Which I, Lame Lazar List to Cure,
But Light beneath the Lady’s Lure
And Lift my Crutch with Leprous Glee,
And Leap upon the Lady’s Knee … Nicholas?’
‘You do mine,’ said Nicholas, glowing.
‘No, I’ll do it,’ said Philippa, feeling her oats. She thought.
‘But I, dear Luck, will Lead you all.
On Lilied Lawns of Light to Loll (‘Bravo!’ said Lymond.)
Where Lute and Lyre will Lilt their Lay (‘Oh, bravo!’)
And Lull sweet Lovers at their Play!’ said Philippa triumphantly.
‘That’s really very good,’ said Sir Henry. ‘Is there more?’
‘Yes: Death,’ said Lymond. ‘Where are the Medioxes? Philippa?’
‘Up there. I’ll get them,’ Philippa said. Hampered by drakes’ necks, she