"Whither did they go?" asked Nick, both sorry and glad to hear that they
were gone.

"To Coventry, and left the master-player behind in gaol."

"Why, they dare na use him so--the Lord Admiral's own man!"

"Ay, that they don't! Why, hark 'e, Nick! This morning, since Sir
Thomas has gone home, and the burgesses' heads have all cooled down from
the sack and the clary they were in last night, la! but they are in a
pretty stew, my father says, for fear that they have given offense to
the Lord Admiral. So they have spoken the master-player softly, and
given him his freedom out of hand, and a long gold chain to twine about
his cap, to mend the matter with, beside."

"Whee-ew!" whistled Nick. "I wish I were a master-player!"

"Oh, but he will not be pleased, and says he will have his revenge on
Stratford town if he must needs wait until the end of the world or go to
the Indies after it. And he has had his breakfast served in Master
Geoffrey Inchbold's own room at the Swan, and swears that he will walk
the whole way to Coventry sooner than straddle the horse that the
burgesses have sent him to ride."

"What! Is he at the inn? Why, let's go down and see him."

"Master Brunswood says that he will birch whoever cometh late," objected
Hal Saddler.

"Birch?" groaned Nick. "Why, he does nothing but birch! A fellow can na