some unforeseen Hellespont of orthodoxy and security.” And I found myself alone with nothing to prove that the whole encounter had not been imagined, save for the warm place where his hand had rested on my thigh, and the hoots of my companions upon my apparent failure to gain the youth’s company for the evening. Shortly thereafter I returned to my lodgings to work out a guise for the following night, and to wonder if it were by chance or intent that the boy had referred so exactly to the mythic theme of my current work.
The following night, soberly arrayed as Machiavel, I wandered through the hall, looking for the lad. There were rivers of strong wine and wassail bowls liberally laced with brandywine readily available. I drank deeply, and as my stomach had been all but empty, I was soon far from sober.
I almost failed to recognize my quarry when I found him—or rather, when he found me. He was dressed as Hero, and not just any Hero, but my very creation, from my unfinished poem Hero and Leander. I was stunned by the advent of my imagined heroine in the all-too-physical flesh. The lad had copied the description of the robe exactly, the impertinent whelp, right down to the Venus with Adonis at her feet embroidered on the sleeves—only the veil was missing. His long dark hair, worn loose over his shoulders in glittering auric waves and I was fascinated to see that it had been pomaded and liberally powdered with gold-dust.
Hero made a deep curtsy. “Will you dance with me, my lord?” The neck of the robe gaped for a moment and I had a clear view of the small breasts it concealed. With a shocking shift of reality, I realized that my beautiful boy of the night before was indeed a woman. I was repelled, yet also unaccountably attracted. Yes, very attracted.
“Lady, I cannot,” I answered in a shaken voice. No woman had ever had such an effect on me before and damned few men.
“Then we shall speak together,” she said, tucking her arm through mine. My head was whirling. I thought of Tom, whom I had loved, and of the bitter quarrel that had parted us. He was making a great show of indifference, which hurt me as badly as any of the cutting things he’d said, worse even than his throwing my humble birth up in my face. We crossed through a room of tables setup for the gamblers, many of whom I knew, from their patronage of the playhouses. One of them started to stand as we entered. Ingram Frizer. Good, I thought, then Tommy was bound to hear of this and be sorry, or better still, as hurt and angry as I. My companion gave me no time to stop, however, but drew me into a private parlor beyond, and Frizer dropped back into his seat, muttering to his tablemates. There was an outbreak of bawdy laughter as the door was pulled shut and bolted behind us.
There were many pillows spread before the fire and a tray with drink and sweetmeats. She pulled me down beside her and poured wine red as blood into fragile cups of Venetian glass. My hands were shaking as I took the cup she handed me and garnet drops stained the ragged white frill at my wrist.
“Speak to me,” she said, “about yourself. Oh, not those things that anyone might know,” she added, with a low laugh. “Tell me what lies hidden here,” and she laid a cool hand upon my heart. I was repulsed by her forwardness but, even against my will, still more attracted and we conversed for a time. Her soft questions drew the answers from me as if my mouth had become a wound she had opened, bleeding my memories away, and no way to stanch the flow.
I described to her my childhood years, spent in the shadow of Canterbury’s great cathedral, of the games the churchmen, both religious and secular, played with the choirboys, but held back my own time spent as an alderman’s catamite. I told her of attending the King’s school, that had led to Cambridge, Cambridge led to London, and London had given me success, and Tom. I trailed off, thinking of him, of the wounding words he had flung at me like so many darts, of the void in my life where I had grown used to seeing him. My companion seemed to sense my distress, and asked