Ophelia (24 page)

"He was both merry and sober. His thoughts ran upon the topic of death. Picking up a skull thrown out by the grave diggers, he said it was that of his father's jester, old Yorick. He mocked the mighty as nothing but dust. But he did not appear desperate, only somewhat melancholy."

"This coming is most unexpected! What happened next?"

"As Hamlet and I spoke, your funeral procession passed by with Claudius and some lords who were your father's friends. Gertrude strewed flowers. Laertes wept loudly over your sheeted body and rebuked the priest for his paltry prayers."

"When Hamlet learned of my death . . . how . . . did he . . . ?" I could not finish my question.

Horatio shook his head, and distress showed in his eyes. I steeled myself to hear that Hamlet jested about my death, or that he showed no care at all.

"Do not stint on the truth now, Horatio. Though it be painful, I will not hold it against you," I said.

Thus I heard, to my honor, how Hamlet, losing his composure, leaped into my grave to challenge my brother, who held my lifeless form. Then, like enemies, they fought with their hands at each other's throats.

"He grew quite mad. I had to break them apart, and it took much to calm Hamlet again," said Horatio, and he sighed heavily.

"Hamlet and my brother, who used to spar as playfellows! They traded mortal blows over my lifeless body?" Disbelief and anger waned within me. "They should have been as brothers, both fatherless and sharing their sorrows. Why must they rage, both of them, like madmen? There is no sense in it!"

"I do have this comfort to offer, my lady," said Horatio. "Hamlet cried out to the ears of everyone present that he loved you."

"But did he claim me as his wife?" I demanded.

"No, not in those words. But he said his love was more than that of forty thousand brothers."

"That is no comfort to me!" I said bitterly. "Let him measure his affection in numbers. What he calls love deserves not the name!" Thus I raged, but inwardly I hoped that Hamlet meant his words of love, and I wished that I had heard him speak them. My anger spent, I asked, "Does Hamlet know that I live?"

"No, he does not," Horatio admitted. "Seeing him so intemperate, I knew you would not wish it. And I would not break my promise to you."

"So you deceived your life's friend, for my sake?"

"It weighs upon me," he said simply.

"You have not done wrong," I said. "Hamlet does not want a wife, for I only hinder his revenge."

This truth hung in the air, and Horatio did not contradict it.

"I once hoped for Hamlet's return, but it comes too late," I said sadly. "I have already exited the stage. Now you must bear this news to him. Tell him that I had knowledge that could have aided his revenge, had he come sooner on the scene."

"What do you mean?" asked Horatio, bewildered.

"Fortune has been my fickle friend, Horatio. On the night Hamlet killed my father, she showed me proof of Claudius's guilt—"

"What was it?" He leaped to his feet. "Where is it?"

"—but she would not let me keep it." I held up my hand to stay Horatio. "Mechtild, was a vial of poison not stolen from you this April, before King Hamlet's death?"

Mechtild, who was following our conversation with keen interest, nodded.

"What substance was it?" I asked.

"Juice of henbane, black and deadly," she said. "Makes the blood thicken in the veins."

Horatio's eyes grew wide in wonder as he remarked, "Henbane! Hamlet told me his father's ghost did name that killing poison poured into his ear!"

"Indeed, Mechtild's word confirms that of the ghost," I said with certainty. "Now listen, Horatio. After Hamlet's play I followed my father to Claudius's bedchamber, where I found a hidden vial of poison. I held it in my hand and saw the drops of black juice that remained. Surely it was the poison that murdered the king! We contended for it, and the vial was dashed from my hand. Hours later, my father was dead, his secrets sealed forever. It was no benevolent divinity who oversaw that night's black deeds," I said bitterly.

"And you could not tell Hamlet of your discovery, for he was immediately sent away," said Horatio, grasping the situation at once. "Yet had he known of it, he could have wrought a just and swift revenge. Alas, Fortune truly is a false dame!" He thought for a moment, then added, "But why was your father in Claudius's chamber?"

"He said that Claudius had sent him there. He must have known that Claudius poisoned King Hamlet. So to prevent my father from betraying him, Claudius set him up for his death at Hamlet's hand. This I cannot prove, though I am certain of it, for my father's death gave the king reason to send Hamlet away—to his own death."

Horatio seized his head in his hands, making his red curls wild and unruly.

"Oh, what a dense and knotty path evil treads, full of twists and turns! Yet what you say is most likely. Your father played a dangerous game and diced away his very life. And Claudius is a tyrant, whose each crime compels the next one, until he bathes and feeds himself with others' blood."

"You agree, then, that all these events are linked to one another?" I said, relieved that Horatio did not think me mad.

"Like pieces of an iron chain," he said grimly. "If only we could bind Claudius with it! Meanwhile, Ophelia, you are in greater danger than I imagined."

"Yes, and being powerless to bring him to justice, I had no choice but to flee Elsinore myself."

"Take heart, brave Ophelia, for you and Hamlet alike can boast that you have cheated Claudius of your deaths," said Horatio with spirit.

"Ah, but the game is far from decided in our favor," I said. "And my brother still plays, unwary of his foe. Laertes is vengeful and rebellious. You saw him threaten the king. I fear he may be the next victim."

I had dwelt so long upon Claudius's evil that I believed I knew what his next step would be. I took Horatio by the shoulders and spoke in a low and intense voice.

"Listen, Horatio! Hamlet slipped the first trap laid by Claudius, who even now lays another. I saw the king trying to win my brother to his side and persuade him that he was guiltless in our father's death. You saw Hamlet and Laertes fight in my grave." My voice rose with growing agitation. "Claudius is stirring my brother against Hamlet, to provoke him in turn. He stokes the fires of their rivalry, these two who threaten his rule and his life. To keep his own hands unsullied, he will have Hamlet and Laertes destroy each other! Only you, Horatio, can stop them."

Horatio's eyes grew wide with understanding and his brow creased with firm intent.

"I will make it my duty to preserve Hamlet and your brother," he pledged. "But tell me, Ophelia, how is it that you, a lady of great virtue, understand Claudius's wicked heart?"

"I do not know. Perhaps by reading so much of greed and passion," I said, thinking of all the stories and tales I had savored while disbelieving the wickedness in them.

At that moment, the old woman's mastiff rose from its sleep and growled, a sound like the rumble of thunder. The door to the cottage swung inward with a creak of its hinges. A shaft of sunlight spilled into the dim room, and the cool morning breeze stirred the dust motes into life.

Outlined against the bright daylight stood the figure of Gertrude.

Chapter 33

The queen stepped into Mechtild's cottage, her leather-shod feet soundless on the earthen floor, the gold strands of her gown reflecting the light. I withered in her presence, like a flower that blooms too early and is frozen by a sudden wintry blast.

"I am undone! Horatio, we are betrayed," I cried, sinking to the pallet.

Mechtild fell to her knees with an agility that belied her age. Horatio stepped protectively in front of me. He bowed to the queen, but his hand touched his sword hilt as he made ready to spring at any sound or movement outside the cottage.

Gertrude dismissed Mechtild with a nod, and the old woman and her skulking dog disappeared. Then she addressed Horatio.

"I have come alone," she said. Horatio's tense body loosened, and he stepped aside, leaving me to face Gertrude.

"I am glad to see you alive, Ophelia," she said. I could not fathom what feeling lay behind her words.

"How . . . did you know . . . ? Why have you come here?" I whispered, confusion and fear tying my tongue.

Gertrude seated herself on a stool near me, erect as though she inhabited her throne, and began her tale.

"On the day that Laertes returned, vowing mayhem and revenge, the sight of you would have moved a stone to pity. You looked the very picture of ruined Nature, so wild and desperate that I feared you might harm yourself. I toed to follow you when you left Elsinore, but Claudius restrained me. Instead he sent a guard to watch you."

Did Gertrude know that Edmund meant to harm me? I watched her closely for some clue in her look or speech.

"He soon returned with Horatio, who earned you in his arms. A crowd followed, some in tears, others merely curious. The guard reported he had seen you take poison and cast yourself into the water. He testified with a certain satisfaction that you had 'done the job doubly,' as he said."

"How did the king react?" I asked, unable to restrain myself from the interruption.

"Unperturbed, with no show of grief, for so a king ought to take news of a subject's death," she replied with the merest hint of bitterness. "He made a show of chastising the guard for not keeping you safe. Still, the unworthy sot remains in his service."

"I should have dispatched the villain myself!" Horatio muttered to himself. I wondered what reward Edmund had reaped by my death. But I would not waste my thoughts on him.

"How did you suspect that I still lived?" I asked the queen. I recalled how often she had observed me when I thought she paid me no heed. Had I underestimated her perception yet again?

"Horatio, I bid you leave us for a time," the queen said.

He bowed and left the cottage. Gertrude and I were now alone.

"Earlier, when you sang in the courtyard and would not meet my eye, I believed you were touched by madness. But when you bestowed the rosemary, fennel, and rue, I saw that your actions were intentional. I understood you," continued Gertrude, "even if Claudius did not. I know you deem him guilty of many sins and that you accuse my failings, too."

Gertrude, then, had seen through my guise of madness. I was ashamed that I had charged the queen, my mistress, with so many faults. But I was also afraid. What had she told Claudius of me? I longed to know, but I could not speak.

"When I heard that you drank poison, I suspected you had procured a potion or brewed it yourself. Of course I knew where you and Elnora obtained your medicines and rare tonics. I used to visit the wise woman myself, before Elnora grew skilled with herbs." She paused, and I heard her skirts rustle as she adjusted her position on the stool.

"I coaxed you into ladyhood, Ophelia. I taught you the ways of the court, and watched you grow into a clever and learned woman." The queen turned her sharp gaze on me. "I did not believe you would destroy yourself from grief or rejected love. Thus I supposed that you only feigned your death," she said, with the satisfaction of someone solving a puzzle.

"It has been done in books," I whispered, thinking of the stones we read together.

"What was most natural and unfeigned, however," Gertrude went on, "was Horatio's look of desperate grief when he bore your limp, wet body, and his tears when the physician pronounced you dead. He is no actor who can dissemble his feelings."

She gave me a knowing, sideways look.

Despite myself, my cheeks grew warm. "You do not understand—"I began.

"Ah, but I do," she interrupted. "More than you realize. How is it that you do not recognize the signs of love? I know. Now your heart is shrouded, like a valley hidden in fog, but when sun returns and your sadness lifts, you will see clearly again."

Gertrude's own face clouded over and her eyes grew misty as she spoke.

"Although many thought you unworthy, I confess that I wished for you to wed Hamlet and become my daughter," she said, her voice barely audible.

Her words bathed my ears like a soothing balm. Had I not longed for years to embrace Gertrude as my mother? To have her approve my love for her son? I was sorely tempted to cry out the truth, to confess that Hamlet was my husband. But prudence and mistrust held me back. A long silence grew between us that I did not dare to break. The only sound was the popping of embers that glowed in the hearth. Gertrude seemed lost in memory. Finally she looked up again.

"So, to make my tale brief, my instinct led me here, to Mechtild's cottage. I hoped to discover the truth but, I admit, I did not expect to find you here. Now I will behold the resolution of this plot of yours and take my role in it."

My mind raced. Was she toying with me like a cat does a trapped mouse? Would she now betray me to Claudius, as a loyal queen and dutiful wife must do?

"As I came nigh to the cottage door, I heard your accusations of the king." Gertrude paused, and I held my breath. "I admit that I am frail in my flesh. I, too, fear Claudius." A deep, shuddering sigh escaped her. "And I can do nothing to save Hamlet. He is lost to me, as well as to you."