Ophelia (9 page)

"No, it becomes you better," I said, fastening the comb in her hair and avoiding her gaze.

"Does he love you back? Perhaps a word from me will help smooth the path of true love."

So Gertrude probed, while I denied that I loved anyone. How could I tell the queen that it was her son I desired? That we talked and laughed for hours together? That we pretended to be rustics not ruled by custom but free to choose our love?

I wanted to confide in Elnora but was certain that her loyalty to Gertrude would prevail over our friendship. There was no one else I trusted. And though I said nothing, everyone suspected that I had a suitor. Did my looks, though guarded, betray me? Did I murmur to myself? Surely not, but the ladies still gave me sly glances and attempted to guess the aim of my desire. It was wicked of me, but I let them believe I fancied Horatio, for his good reputation put him above all reproach.

Gertrude knew that I was deceiving her, and she in turn began to hold me at a distance. I was no longer asked to wait upon her or to read to her. While I was out of favor, Cristiana slipped into my place and worked her malice on the queen's mind.

When Gertrude spoke to me again, her tone was cold.

"I am told that you spend your days in the country with a common boy, that you dress like some farmer's daughter."

Her misunderstanding would have been comic had we read of it in a romantic fable. She and I could have laughed at the mother's blindness and pitied the plight of the unequal lovers. But this was no fiction. I merely hung my head as she poured out her disappointment on me.

"Do you thus repay my kindness by disgracing yourself?" she demanded. "Surely there is some gentleman at court whom you could favor."

I was dismayed to be so fallen from Gertrude's esteem.

"My heart is in such turmoil," I cried, unable to suppress my tears. "You are right; I love unworthily." That at least was true. "I will strive against it," I promised, a fresh lie.

"I hope that you will return to your senses, Ophelia. This madness does not become you."

I was sure that it was Cristiana who spied on me and told the queen what she saw. One day not long after the queen's lecture, I caught Cristiana in my chamber. I worried that she had searched my trunk, where my tokens and letters from Hamlet were hidden. But I saw with relief that it was still locked. I grabbed my homespun costume from beneath my mattress and thrust it at her.

"Here. Is this the proof you seek?"

"Why would you so disgrace yourself in these rags?" she said, fingering the dress in disbelief before dropping it. "Then again, I don't know why I am surprised that you love basely."

It was a wonder that Cristiana had not discovered that it was Hamlet I loved. I should have been thankful for her ignorance. Instead I loathed her pride, her lies, and her disdain of me when I should have despised myself for lying to Gertrude. But I was blinded and had no use for reason, desiring only to take revenge on Cristiana for her cruelties to me.

Chapter 10

The idea for my plot began with a ribald tale of mistaken love I had once read to Gertrude. I saw how, by imitating it, I could trick Cristiana and sow discord to the confusion of all.

I told Hamlet my plan, disguising its motive, for I did not want him to think me too unkind.

"An excellent device, worthy of a playwright." His praise was like honey to a bee, and I sucked it up.

"By this means I will test the mettle of Cristiana and her two suitors," I said.

"May it prove them false, like bad coins," Hamlet replied. While I aimed at Cristiana's pride, Hamlet relished the opportunity to trick Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. "This will pierce their puffed-up ambitions," he exulted.

"But we must hide our authorship of this work," I cautioned, and Hamlet agreed.

Our plot was to unfold at the banquet celebrating the twentieth year of King Hamlet's rule. The evening would be filled with masking, dancing, and feasting. In preparation, men and women borrowed each other's finery and planned fanciful disguises. An excited Cristiana collected feathers of every color and stitched them to a mask, for she had found this note in her pocket:

By your cloak of red and feathered face
You give me proof that I have won the race.
My prize I'll take, 'tis earned but free
Beneath the spreading boughs of the willow tree.

The verse was signed Rosencrantz, the name perfectly executed by Hamlet. Meanwhile I had copied Cristiana's hand to write the note Hamlet delivered to Rosencrantz's rival. This note read:

I can no longer hide my longing for you, gentle Guildenstern. Tonight the red bird perches in the willow tree. She awaits the hooded black crow. Catch me and I am yours.

On the night of the banquet, firelight flashed on the walls of the great hall and rush torches sent up their oily smoke. Spiced wine poured from spigots, overflowed pitchers and goblets, and was consumed like water. Tables groaned under joints of venison and pork, smoked fish, and meat pies. I drank a little wine, though not enough to make me tipsy, and sat with the ladies, sucking on plums and sweet figs. A juggler made his way through the crowd, keeping several oranges aloft at once. Dancers wearing bells stepped high, clapping to the beat of tabors and the whistle of pipes.

From his throne, King Hamlet beheld the scene, his queen beside him. In deference to the glad occasion, his foot kept the rhythm of the dance and his usually stern mien was softened. Old Yorick had died, and a younger fool now made King Hamlet laugh, though not so heartily as he used to.

By contrast, Claudius took his pleasures fiercely, carousing with his cup in hand. His mask was lifted, the better to feed himself. Drops of wine, ruby red, splashed his tunic and the floor. He pinched the curves of many women, careless of the spilled wine that stained their costumes. Before the king he made an exaggerated bow, nearly toppling to his knees. He began a speech, but the king cut off his slurred words. So Claudius seized Gertrude's hand, urging her to join the revelry. With a show of reluctance, she left her husband's side to appease Claudius by dancing. King Hamlet's look grew dark.

This drama was but one of the night's shows. My own plot was of greater interest to me then. In my dark blue cloak and plain mask I moved about the hall, watching my actors. Guildenstern arrived in a black cloak and a mask with a beak. Cristiana flitted about in a crimson gown and long cape. The musicians started to play, and the dancers paired for a stately pavane. I found myself facing Hamlet, who wore a mask emblazoned with two faces.

"Good evening, Lord Janus," I said, thinking again of the strange token he had given me in the garden.

"Will you dance with me, hidden here in plain sight?"

"It is a contradiction I delight in," I said. Taking his hand, I could sense an expectation of pleasure that matched my own. Then in the whirl of dancers, I heard Cristiana's tinkling laugh.

"Will the red bird yield herself to the crow?" I wondered aloud to Hamlet. The masks made it possible for us to speak without drawing the attention of others.

"If she does, it will devour her, I know." Hamlet spoke in my ear, sending a shiver down my back.

Then we switched partners, and I was thrust into a high-stepping bransle with the nervous Guildenstern, who nearly stumbled over his long cloak.

"I see you eyeing the red bird," I said to him.

"Methinks she preens her feathers just for me," Guildenstern boasted. He affected an accent that almost made me laugh.

"Who could she be?" I was teasing him, for I thought no disguise was sufficient to hide Cristiana's manner. But Guildenstern seemed mystified.

"Some fine lady, a newcomer to the court," he said, following the red-clad Cristiana with his eyes. She danced with many men, no doubt seeking Rosencrantz under each disguise. But Rosencrantz was not at the ball, for he had been sent by Hamlet on a fool's errand.

I was dancing with a fleshy but nimble-footed gentleman when I saw Cristiana leave the hall, the folds of her red cape billowing behind her. Hamlet signaled that Guildenstern had followed her. Pleading my weary legs, I left my partner and slipped out of the steamy, smoky hall. With light steps I made my way through the outer courtyard and the gates, descended through the meadow, and crouched amid the rushes by the brook.

Hamlet, silent as fog, was soon beside me. The night was damp and chilly. Clouds hid the moon, and the willow tree was shrouded in darkness. But Cristiana was visible, her red cloak enfolding another in a close embrace.

"See how the fish first nibbles, then swallows the bait!" Hamlet whispered with glee.

"Yes, both are sorely hooked," I admitted.

I had imagined that Cristiana and Guildenstern would soon discover the game. I expected them to recognize each other and part with embarrassed laughter. But as we watched, the cloaked figures sank to the ground without breaking their grasp. I was overcome by shame.

"We are not meant to see this private passion," I whispered.

"Then let us close the curtain on this scene," said Hamlet.

We withdrew ourselves and returned to Elsinore in silence. I turned aside from Hamlet's lips after one chaste kiss, and we parted for the night.

Instead of returning to the dance, I went to my chamber, undressed, and prepared to retire. I listened to the distant sounds of revelry while the night deepened. Though I still hated Cristiana, I took no delight in my trick. I tossed on my bed, unable to sleep. Hours later, when I heard light footsteps, I went to my door in time to see Cristiana pass by, her feathers bent and her cloak dirty. Her cheek was deeply flushed and her hair disarranged.

The next day, while I sat among the ladies in the queen's gallery, Rosencrantz paid court to Cristiana. She was breathless and coy and blushed to excess. Rosencrantz was confused, and when he left, Cristiana complained that men were so unaffected by love. Soon thereafter Guildenstern called, bringing a love token and speaking honeyed words. Cristiana was cold to him, but Guildenstern took this for discretion and left in good cheer.

I wondered greatly about what I had seen. Cristiana behaved as if it were Rosencrantz who had made love to her the night before. Yet it seemed impossible that she could have mistaken Guildenstern for Rosencrantz, even in the dark. Had Cristiana recognized Guildenstern and taken her pleasure nonetheless? Did her conscience prick her for being unfaithful? Was she willingly untrue, or had she been truly deceived? finally I gave up my speculations and concluded that in life, as in stones, foolish lovers will go to great lengths, deceiving themselves for the sake of pleasure.

Later Hamlet told me that as he shared drink with the two courtiers, Guildenstern boasted of his lovemaking to Cristiana. He and Rosencrantz came to blows, and Hamlet leaped up to part them.

"I said the lady was a light one, undeserving of their love. They both agreed, shook hands, and were friends again." Hamlet laughed, nibbing his palms together with satisfaction.

But I grew angry at the thought of the three men disdaining Cristiana. I had not intended for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to triumph from my trick and be so satisfied with their stolen favors.

"Though Cristiana is a fool, she does not deserve their scorn! They are not men of honor," I said.

Hamlet looked at me in surprise.

"What? Do you now pity your former enemy?" he asked. "How like a fickle woman," he teased.

"I have no appetite for your jesting," I said. "But when you men wrong one of my sex, I cannot be silent."

"We have not wronged the ignorant girl, but helped her to be rid of false loves," he said in a gentle voice. Then his face darkened and resembled his father's stern features. "She would surely have come to further grief, for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are deceivers both. They are vile traitors, loyal only to themselves."

Cristiana was for a time chastened. Spurned by both her lovers, she silently bore the gossip about her reputation. I did not fear her revenge, for I did not think her clever enough to suspect that I had contrived the events of that night. And loyal confederates, Hamlet and I never revealed that we were authors of this tragicomedy.