Ophelia (23 page)

I followed the curve of the bank where Hamlet had watched me swimming when I was still a child. I reached the wallow tree, the very picture of Nature weeping. Its branches grew upward in a graceful arc, then flowed to earth and trailed their ends in the water. I watched falling leaves skitter over the watery surface, which gurgled as it tumbled over the rocks. The river was swollen and wide from recent rain. I knew the water would be cold. Ducks bobbed among the cattails at the water's edge, and a kingfisher hidden in the bushes clattered its call.

My solitude seemed complete and the familiar natural sights brought me peace. I took the garlands I had made and hung them about my neck, enjoying their sweet but fading scents. Though I knew that my enemy breathed at my back, waiting to strike, I trusted Horatio to protect me. I had not even brought my dagger, fearing to lose it in the water. I wanted to he for a short while on the sun-warmed bank and revisit some sweeter memories before undertaking the journey to my unknown future. But prudence warned me neither to waste the time nor weaken my resolve by too much thought. So I reached into my pocket and drew forth the small vial. My fingers trembled as I uncapped it and poured the contents into my mouth. The dark, syrupy mandragora, sweet and strong, slipped down into my belly. I licked the last drops from the mouth of the vial and dropped it into the water, where it sank from sight.

I had only minutes, perhaps less time than that. I did not know how soon the mandragora would take effect. Waiting in utter stillness, I tried to feel the potion working. Nothing happened yet. I sought some pleasant sensation, a comforting memory, but felt only growing panic. Suddenly I feared the coming oblivion, and a desperate desire to stay awake seized me. What if these moments were indeed the last ones of my life? Should I confess my sins and pray, in case the potion proved too strong? My breath grew short as terror rose in me. I pushed against the earth, trying to stand, and found my fingers tangled among the cool, waxy leaves of the mallow plant that clung to the marshy verges of the river. Remembering my unkept promise, I pried its roots from the earth with desperate fingers and filled my basket, hoping that Elnora would somehow find them there. The effort made me weak, and I felt myself grow light-headed. Leaving my basket at the base of the willow tree, I climbed onto a strong limb that grew aslant the brook. Deep, dark water flowed beneath me, its rushing sound filled my ears. My head began to spin and black flecks like ashes scattered across my sight. Then it seemed the world was turning upside down, and the sky and water reversed their places, again and yet again. I clung to the willow branch but the mandragora that now filled my veins had stolen my strength. My eyes drooped, and I felt sleep take hold of me. Against my will to live, my limbs longed for oblivion.

The branch bent under my weight as if delivering me to the deep, and I murmured, "I come to you, waters of death and life. Take me from this world of madness and strife."

I heard a voice cry out "Ophelia!" at the moment that my numbed limbs released their hold and I fell into the water, blackness engulfing me.

Chapter 31

I struggled to open my eyes against the heavy weight of sleep. Dimly I saw a hearth fire casting its feeble light upon the uneven plaster walls of a small cottage. I was lying on a rough bed. I tried to sit up and found that my arms and legs would not obey my will. I did not know where I was. I saw bunches of drying plants hanging from the ceiling, and their scents mingled in the warm air. This was not the crumbling hermitage where Hamlet and I used to meet. Slowly the awareness came to me that I was in Mechtild's cottage.

I was not alone there. Someone was slumped upon a bench in the shadowy corner. My efforts to stir myself roused him instead. To my relief, I saw that it was Horatio. He came and knelt by my side, weary anxiety written in the lines of his face.

"I see that I live yet," I said. My voice sounded strange and distant. "But why am I here?" I had expected to awaken in the cottage in the woods, with everything ready for my journey. "Horatio, what has gone amiss?"

"Have no fear; you are safe. Once I freed you from the earth, I had need of Mechtild's skill."

"How did you know about this place? I have always hid my path hither."

Horatio smiled. "The wise woman and her love potions are not so secret as some ladies believe. Courtiers, too, have resorted to her remedies and advice."

A shuffling step announced the old woman herself, who entered the room with the white mastiff like a sentinel at her side. She regarded me with eyes that were sharp yet kind, set deep in her wizened face.

"The mandragora brought a sleep so deep, even I doubted you were alive," she said. "I administered an antidote but hours ago. Do not try to rise yet."

She went to stir a pot on the hearth, and the dog lay down near the doorway, obeying the command of her hand.

"I told her that desperation led you to seek death. I do not think she believes me. She knows that you stole the mandrake, but she bears you no ill will," Horatio whispered.

I was ashamed that I had wronged Mechtild. But my curiosity was greater than my guilt. Like someone who has fallen asleep during an exciting tale, I longed to hear the story's end.

"Tell me, Horatio; tell me everything that happened, for the potion has wiped clean the table of my memory."

So Horatio related how he followed me to the brook where he watched me drink the potion and climb the willow tree. He told how he raised the alarm when I fell from the branch, then ran downstream, plunging into the water to intercept my floating body.

"It was cold and the current ran swiftly. Your sodden garments enwrapped you and bore you under. I lost my footing and came near to drowning myself. If not for the guard who heeded my cries, we would both have been lost. He lent his strength to pull your lifeless body from the brook. Together we bore you back to court."

"Oh, Horatio!" I cried, raising myself to my elbows. "That guard was close at hand to take my life. I did barely beat him to the prize." I explained that it was Edmund, my childhood tormentor, and described his menacing ways.

Horatio grew mortified to learn that he had been followed without his knowledge and by such a knave.

"Do not dwell on that," I said. "think instead that had you not been near, he surely would have killed me. Now continue your story."

Horatio settled himself on a stool near my pallet, resting his elbows upon the thighs of his bent legs.

"The burial service followed swiftly, for many suspected you sought your death, and hence your soul was cursed."

"A quick service, that is well and good. A long and formal one would not have gone well for me, had I awakened too soon," I said with a smile. "But what matters is only that Claudius believes me to be truly dead. Does he?"

Horatio lifted his arms in a gesture of uncertainty.

"You know, Ophelia, that nothing is as it seems at Elsinore. Gertrude wept as the rites were read, and I believe her grief was real, but Claudius betrayed neither satisfaction nor sorrow." Horatio thought for a moment, then shook his head firmly. "There is no reason for him to think that you live. He saw your body white from the water's chill, and he witnessed your burial."

"How did Elnora take the news?" I asked. She was the only person I regretted deceiving with my feigned death.

"The woman was most distraught. She anointed and wrapped your body, while weeping copious tears. She did not suspect that you only slept."

As the potion loosed its hold on my senses, it also released my emotions. At the thought of Elnora grieving for me, I gave way to tears. I knew she had washed my hair in rosemary, for the scent still clung to me. She had dressed me in my favorite gown of yellow damask over a petticoat embroidered in her own hand, her final gift of kindness to me. How her bones must have ached with the effort! As I wept, Horatio rose and stood apart from me, near the fire.

"Did you return my basket to her?" I asked. "I left it by the wallow tree."

"No, I did not see it. Had you told me of it?"

I shook my head, for I had not.

"No, I am at fault. Horatio, I have thought only of myself."

"It is no sin to desire to live, no cause for tears."

"It is a most strange feeling, to be alive yet dead to everyone who has known me—save you, Horatio," I said, feeling loneliness well up in me. I tried again and succeeded in sitting up. Determined to shake my dismal thoughts, I wiped my tears with a corner of the soiled linen sheet that clung to me. It had been my winding cloth. I tore off a piece to carry with me, thinking it would make a good swaddling cloth for a baby.

Mechtild brought me a bowl of steaming broth and stood by while I sipped it.

"This will revive your limbs," she promised. "Mixed with saffron, to shake off lethargy and quicken the senses." Even as she spoke, I felt new strength flow into my legs and feet. "I will see to Elnora's pains. Horatio shall deliver some medicine today," she said.

I marveled at her wisdom. How had she read my mind and known my guilt? I thanked her and held the warm bowl in my hands.

"Go on, Horatio," I said, nodding for him to continue his tale. Mechtild would have to be trusted, for it would be useless to try and conceal anything from her.

"You were put into the ground late in the day, and I returned just as night fell to dig away the still-loose earth. I dreaded that the grave robbers would arrive first, for they do not respect those that are self-murdered."

I gasped, for I had not considered that I might be stolen from the earth and my body opened by robbers. I crossed my arms and shivered at the memory of Hamlet's book, with its drawings of the corpse laid open, the vital parts within revealed like a pirate's booty in a torn sack.

"Fortunately," Horatio went on, "no one was about then. But I could not rouse you from this deathlike slumber. I feared you were lost " His voice faltered, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. "I brought you with all haste to Mechtild's cottage, and with the aid of a glass, we determined that you still breathed."

I felt my throat grow tight, hearing that I had indeed almost died. Oh, brave Horatio, who took such risks to save me from the water and from the earth! How can I ever repay your devotion?

"Were you seen in the graveyard?" was all I said.

"Indeed, I do not know." He rubbed his temples in consternation. "There may have been waiting thieves or a guard who saw me as I bore you away. Concern for your life overrode my caution. I am sorry."

"You have no cause," I said. "It is I who am sorry to involve you, an honest man, in deceit."

"Can this deceit be wrong, if it preserves what is virtuous?" asked Horatio.

"I am in no mood for philosophy, and I am sick of reason!" I cried, discontent rising within me. "I have betrayed Elnora's friendship. I have wronged you and Mechtild. I must leave here before you are discovered and come to harm because of me." I stood up and found that my weak legs supported me well enough. "I doubt that my life has been worth the danger you have endured, Horatio. Leave me now and hide until you deem yourself safe."

Horatio laid a hand on my arm to still me.

"No. Wait," he said, "I have more to tell. Hamlet has returned to Elsinore."

Chapter 32

Horatio's words almost knocked me from my feet. My mind struggled to understand him.

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

"While I was in the graveyard, watching the sextons dig your grave, Hamlet appeared. Indeed, I was greatly surprised."

"You saw his ghost?"

"No, it was Hamlet, in the flesh and blood," Horatio said, defying my disbelief. "We embraced, then conversed. He was no ghost."

Why would Hamlet return to Denmark, I wondered, and put himself within the reach of the murderous Claudius? It was still more foolish to come without an army if he meant to challenge the usurper.

"His return can mean only one thing," I said. "He means to kill Claudius! Will he do it this time, think you? How did he seem?"

Horatio considered my questions before replying.