Ophelia (22 page)

Then I left the castle, intending to seek the mallow root I had promised for Elnora's medicine. What I found instead was a ready opportunity to enact my plan. On everyone's lips was the news that Norway's Prince Fortinbras was marching toward Denmark, bent on revenging his father's defeat. Claudius would send his ambassadors off with a public speech that very afternoon. It was his habit on such occasions to walk among the people, with Gertrude at his side, to win their regard or quiet their fears. In this setting I would confront them and play my final part at Elsinore, with Horatio's help. It seemed that Fortune, by offering this occasion, showed she favored me.

Moved with a strange excitement, I hurried back to my chamber and dressed in my costume of a poor madwoman. As a final touch, I wove flowers into my tangled hair. When I arrived in the courtyard, a large and varied crowd of gentlefolk, servants, and shopkeepers was already waiting for the king. People sought out the patches of sunshine or huddled together, cloaked against the early October chill. I wished that I had worn shoes, for my feet were growing numb from the cold ground. I sat down and rubbed them with my hands. A stage hung with the blue livery of Claudius had been erected for the day's events. Despite the gay banners that flapped in the breeze, a somber mood prevailed, for everyone was aware of the unwelcome prospect of war.

My basket was filled with garlands and herbs I had chosen with care for the king and queen. I had quit my search for the mallow root in my haste to return to the castle, and I toed to ignore the pricking of guilt, trusting that Elnora would forgive my broken promise. Shivering, I wrapped my mantle more firmly around my shoulders. From time to time, I reached into the pocket of my skirt, where I fingered the small bottle of potion.

With nervous, darting looks, I scanned the courtyard. I sighed with relief to see Horatio but shook my head as he began to approach me. Still, he pushed through the crowd until he stood beside me.

"If you go now, you may slip away unseen," he whispered urgently.

"No, I cannot leave until I have acted my scene. Do you not remember our plan and your part in it?"

"I do, but I doubt that it will work. You will draw attention to yourself, which will increase the danger."

Annoyed that Horatio should remonstrate with me, I spoke sharply.

"The crowd will shield me. I must go forward. Trust me, and do your part!"

He relented with a sigh.

"I will keep my promise. May God go with you," he said, moving away with reluctant steps.

My own farewell, more gentle than my rebuke, was lost in the noise of a loud fanfare that signaled the king's coming. The councillors and politicians began their procession from the castle, followed by guards surrounding the king and queen. Claudius and Gertrude nodded to acknowledge their subjects, though few cheers greeted them and fewer smiles.

As they approached the stage, a sudden commotion broke out near the courtyard gate. Hearing shouts and loud cries, the crowd shifted its gaze away from the stage and began to surge toward the gate. Climbing atop a wooden crate, someone's abandoned seat, I saw the source of the tumult. It was Laertes, arriving at Elsinore.

A wave of happiness surged in me. Hope, so long crushed, rose up in my breast. My brother had come and would protect me.

From my perch I cried, "Laertes! Laertes!" but my words were like water thrown into the wind. Then my shouts died on my lips, for I saw my brother waving a sword. Behind him came a motley rabble of about thirty men armed with sticks and rocks.

"Laertes shall be king!" they called, and shouted that Claudius was a tyrant and a pig. At once the king's soldiers fell upon them, their swords smashing the men's wooden staves like twigs. Some in the crowd cheered, while others took cover as if they were afraid of being beaten, too.

"Who killed my father? Claudius? Tell me! I swear I'll be revenged for his death," howled Laertes.

Three guards seized my brother, who worthed, cursed, and spat upon them. His ragtag followers scattered like seeds on the wind.

Sadly I realized Laertes, too, was mad, sick with the contagion of revenge! Rebellious and full of rage, he could offer me no safety, only greater danger. I had no choice but to continue with my plan and face its unknown perils.

I saw Claudius and Gertrude arrive on the stage. Immediately they were circled by guards who swept them toward the safety of the castle. My opportunity would soon be lost! I stumbled off the crate and pushed through the crowd with all my strength.

"Move! Away! Let me by!" I shouted in my haste to catch the king and queen. The guards followed behind them with Laertes in their custody.

The king's ministers, with confused and pitying looks, let me pass. Nor did the guards hinder me as I caught up with them. I flung myself against the door and slipped in before it slammed shut.

Startled by the crash of the heavy wooden bolt behind me, I whirled around. The guard who had thrown the lock wore a helmet that shadowed his eyes. A scar clung to the side of his face like a giant worm, and a cruel smile twisted his mouth. I felt like a deer that has just stepped into the hunter's well-laid trap.

Chapter 29

Inside the great hall there was only dim light, as in a theater darkened for a play. Behind me was the malign Edmund, before me an angry Claudius deep in private conversation with Laertes. Gertrude stood a short distance away, her back turned to them. My brother's whole body trembled with agitation. I had hoped to confront the king and queen in the safety of a larger crowd. Now I had no choice but to play out my scene here.

Neither Claudius nor Laertes had seen me yet. The king gripped my brother by the shoulders and spoke intently. I heard him murmur, "I am guiltless of your father's death." It sounded like a lie to me, but I saw my brother yield his stiff and rebellious stance and hang his head in submission. The memory of him as a chastened boy stored my affection and I let a little cry escape me. Gertrude heard it and turned, then seeing me, she gasped and drew Claudius apart from Laertes. They withdrew to witness our sad reunion.

My brother turned. As recognition slowly came to him, his face took on an expression of great sadness.

"Oh rose of May, dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia."

Never had Laertes spoken so lovingly to me. His gentle words nearly overcame my hard purpose. I would have thrown myself into his arms, but caution prevailed in me.

"Can a young maid's wits be as mortal as an old man's life?" cried Laertes. In his voice I heard the suffering and loss that matched my own. I could not speak for the pain in my chest. So I began to sing in a thin and faltering voice. Laertes grasped my hands and looked me up and down. "If you had wits and could persuade me, it would not move me to revenge as much as the sight of you!" He clenched his teeth as anger flooded his being again.

In my brother's eyes I saw violent desire that dims the light of reason. I feared for him, and I knew I could not trust him. Alas, I must act as if I did not know my own brother. Sorting through the contents of my basket, I drew out some wilted stems.

"Here's rosemary; that's for remembrance," I said, tucking a sprig into his doublet, which had been ripped and smeared with dirt in the fray with the guards. I washed for him to remember me as I used to be, to remember how we used to study and play together. "And here's pansies. You know, that's French for thoughts."

Laertes cupped the delicate purple and white flowers in his palm and sobbed.

I turned to Gertrude. She looked away but let me approach her. Around her neck I placed a garland of aromatic fennel stalks, their flat golden blooms woven with drooping columbines. I did not expect her to know that the flowers were symbols of faithlessness, and that with my gift I rebuked her for being disloyal.

My heart pounding, I stepped up to Claudius. My entrance had undone his work of appeasing Laertes, and his face twitched with the effort of repressing his anger. From my basket I drew out a handful of leaves, which I crushed in my fist to release their strong odor. I reached for the king's hand, which he granted unwillingly, and I pressed them into the flesh of his hot, moist palm.

"There's rue for you—it is called the herb of grace," I said, meaning that he should repent his evil deeds. He could not know that the juice of rue healed the ache of the ear or that it was an antidote to the bite of venomous snakes. Thus shielded by madness and metaphor, I boldly told him that I knew of his crime: pouring poison into King Hamlet's ears. With my gift I accused him of being the serpent in the garden of Denmark. His face showed no comprehension of this, only hatred.

"And there's a daisy," I said, throwing a circlet of the white flowers with their sunlike centers. It caught on a point of his crown and hung there. With their bright innocence I mocked his evil and called him usurper. I knew that the daisy, a remedy for every ache, pain, and wound of the body, was powerless to cure the disease of his rank soul.

Claudius's eyes blazed with angry humiliation. Gertrude put a hand on his arm to calm and restrain him. Laertes, too, protected me by his presence, for Claudius dared not seize me or abuse me, and thus inflame my brother more. His sudden return had been providential after all.

Judging my play to be at its end, I withdrew. Stretching out my arms in farewell, I sang,

"No, no, he is dead,

Go to thy death-bed,

He never will come again."

Laertes ground his fists into his forehead, shaking with grief, while Gertrude made an effort to console him. Only Claudius watched me. His pitiless and hate-filled eyes locked with mine as he threw the daisy garland to the floor and crushed it with his foot.

As I approached the door, which I knew to be locked and guarded by Edmund, I feared that the castle would remain my prison forever. But to my surprise, the latch of the vast door lifted to release me.

Then I saw Claudius shift his gaze, nod deliberately to Edmund, and jerk his head sideways.
Follow her!
The gesture said.

I had tempted my good fortune too far.

Chapter 30

I left the great and gloomy hall of Elsinore for the last time. Though danger dogged my heels, urging me to hurry, a greater sadness slowed my steps. In the sunlit courtyard, people talked in scattered groups, perhaps weighing the moves of Fortinbras against the king's defense. The sudden tumult of the uprising had passed like a summer storm. But the storm still raged within Elsinore's walls, as Laertes' hot anger confronted the cold might of Claudius. Tears pooled in my eyes and blurred the world about me like rain.

My sadness gave way to colder fear. Had my play, like Hamlet's that touched on the king's murder, been a dangerous folly? Perhaps, but the scene had served as my small act of revenge. Though I could not deliver justice for the crimes of Claudius, nor rebuke Gertrude for being fickle, I did strike at their consciences. I played my scene of madness to its end so that my seeming death would not be doubted.

I crossed the busy courtyard toward the open gates of Elsinore. No one regarded me as I went, yet I felt that I was being followed. Was it Edmund? I dared not look, but I hoped that Horatio attended close behind. I prayed that Death would not outpace my trusty friend.

I walked on, passing through the gates and onto the highway. A young boy chasing an escaped guinea fowl bumped into me, but he did not ask my pardon. A cart loaded with gram rumbled down the center of the road, and I jumped aside to avoid being struck by it. I did not look behind me at the castle where I had been brought up to be a lady, favored by a queen, courted by a prince, and then betrayed by him. When I felt the sun on my back, I knew that I was beyond the cold shadow of Elsinore's walls.

When I reached the crest of the hill, I left the highway and descended through the meadows to where the river flowed. Small creatures fled and flew before my step. Never again, I thought, would I pass this way with the anticipation of delight in Hamlet's company. With my hands I parted the rustling grasses and cupped the dying flowers' heads gently, saying farewell to all that I touched.