Beatrice and Benedick (25 page)

‘And lost it?'

‘He won it of me with false dice. Or, rather, a cheat's deck. So you may well say I have lost it.'

I was grimly glad, but her desolation afforded me no comfort – I would not take another man's leavings.

‘But I have gained something else,' she went on.

‘And what is that?'

‘Wisdom. I have learned never to trust a man, be he ever so noble.' She raised her goblet in the direction of Don Pedro and her uncle at the dais. I could see the prince regarding us carefully – he seemed preoccupied by our conversation. ‘Princes and counties!' she snorted. ‘Men are only turned into tongue, their mannerly appearance is everything, their actions set at naught.'

‘That is not a man's vice,' I rejoined. ‘It is the woman's part to lie and to deceive. It is a woman's tongue which flatters while her heart corrodes with disdain.' I was starting to shout as I listed her faults; or were they the faults of all women? ‘Ambitions, covetings, slanders, mutability. All faults that Hell knows are hers.' I leaned close to her, and my head began to spin; I was near as close as when I had kissed her. But now I could think of her only in the poet's arms, kissing and crooning on the dunes. ‘Yet even her vices cannot be relied upon,' I held up a wavering finger, ‘but are changing still.'

She looked at me with a pity that riled me further. ‘
You
have changed.'

I looked at her – her face was undulating before my gaze and she seemed to have more than the usual complement of eyes. ‘The salty winds of this island have brought about a difference,' I agreed, pouring another goblet imprecisely. ‘It is amazing what foul winds puff along the shoreline, on the
dunes,
for example. You are right; I
have
suffered a sea-change. I have transformed from Benedick the Lover into Benedick the Soldier.' I waved my goblet at arm's length, encompassing the entire company as if making an announcement. ‘I have exchanged the tabor and the pipe for the drum and the fife. I will trust my brothers in arms, and no woman shall come in my grace.' I jumped to my feet, and nearly pitched to the floor. I stood at attention and lifted my goblet above my head in a salute. ‘Don Pedro!' I called. ‘Prince, brother, friend!' The
prince looked up at my toast and lifted his goblet in reply. I waxed even more lyrical, touched by his tribute, feeling Lady Beatrice's scornful eyes at my back. I began to make a heartfelt speech about our order of St James, our brotherhood of soldiery. My sentiments were so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes, but my words just elicited laughter and catcalls from the regiment, who were used to my sallies. More than one ruffle of bread had hit me in the head before my speech brought Don Pedro to his feet and to my side. He bowed to Beatrice, who was regarding me with her habitual disdain.

‘Forgive my friend,' he said. ‘He is somewhat in his cups.'

‘Cups, swords, clubs and coins,' she said enigmatically, naming the suits of the
Scopa
deck. ‘Then, Highness, by all means sweep him away.'

He made a reverence again and bore me off to his table. I know he would have given me a chair if he'd had one to spare, but he allowed me to stand behind his, and I was proud to do so. I swayed gently and kept my gaze on Lady Beatrice, who had exchanged chairs with Hero to allow the little maid and Claudio to converse. My misery was complete when I recognised that I envied my young friend – his summer friendship was well planted and had blossomed over this past month, to grow strong roots for future regard – but mine and Lady Beatrice's friendship had become a canker in a hedge, something to regret; and forget.

As the pipers struck up to begin the dancing I noted that even they had been affected by the malaise of the evening; for they did not play a sink-a-pace or a Scotch jig, but a sedate pavane of fifty years before. Few couples took up the floor, and the mournful ostentation persisted.

But the lady Innogen stood up, quite suddenly. I thought she would lead her husband in the host's dance but she did not so much as glance at him. She walked forward to the very centre of the dance floor, looking neither left nor right.

All chatter stopped, every hand stilled on his trencher; all eyes looked at her. Even the musicians faltered in their playing, but she waved them on with an elegant gesture of her hand. Then she began to dance; alone. Slowly, elegantly, her arms moving in graceful arcs, her feet pointing to describe wide circles on the ground.

It was not at that moment improper, or scandalous, but curiously moving. Don Pedro looked on in disapproval, but said nothing; Leonato looked like the volcano, dark and glowering and about to explode, but could not reprimand his wife publicly.

I looked at Beatrice to see how she would take this extraordinary behaviour. She was smiling for the first time that night, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Suddenly kneed in the stomach with longing, I pushed my chair back and took my sorry self off to bed.

Beatrice:
The morning after the feast we were back in the courtyard where one month ago we had greeted the Spanish.

I stood on the same tiny jewelled tiles set into the mosaic floor, and watched the same cast of characters revolving under Medusa's eye. There were the same Spanish faces from the major characters – Don Pedro, Claudio – to the bit-part players – the skinny Conrad, the portly Borachio. Only the pennants were different. Now the red and gold Spanish standard took precedence everywhere; no longer did the Trinacria flag of Sicily flutter above the eaves. I was there under sufferance for I could not wait for the Spanish to leave and take their ensign with them.

Hero, though, was downcast – she took her friend Claudio's hand most sweetly, and kissed his cheek. I wandered away from them. The Spanish were brave in their scarlet as ever. They hurt my eyes. I could see no sign of Benedick among the throng.

Don Pedro took an affectionate leave of Leonato, who seemed much diminished from the man who had greeted the cavalcade a month ago. The prince was as charming as ever, but kept casting an eye to the skies, where the burning sun was already riding high among dandelion puffs of cloud. He glanced about him, shifted his feet and tapped his teeth with his gauntlet.

His deputy spoke in his ear and I was close enough to hear. ‘Sire, we must be gone – the tide awaits.'

Don Pedro shook his head slightly. ‘A moment longer, Captain. He will come.'

I was sure ‘he' would; for no one who had heard Signor Benedick's impassioned speech the previous day at dinner could be in any doubt that his heart lay with this regiment. It was just that he had shipped enough sack yestereve to make him hug his mattress this morning. But I began, despite myself, to hope, with every moment that passed; would he stay?

The cavalry mounted, all excepting Don Pedro, and the watchman opened the great gates. As the light flooded the courtyard, picking out the gold in the mosaic, a figure came down the stairs.

He was tall, dressed
cap à pe
down to the last detail in the scarlet and gold uniform of a Knight of St James. His sword and rapier hung sheathed in his scabbard. His hair curled damply about his face, and his cheek was clean shaven. He was Signor Benedick.

In the sudden hush he walked forth to Don Pedro. Chatter began again and horses neighed, their shoes clopping on the ground, fresh dung dropping from beneath raised tails on the gilded mosaics. I edged closer to the prince and Benedick, and in the melee could easily overhear what was being said.

‘Well, Benedick? Will you stay and marry the lady, or come to gather glory?'

I hid behind the broad fellow they called Borachio, my heart thumping.

‘I would rather live in Hell than marry her. In fact, I am wondering what sin I may comfortably commit, so I may be sent there and away from her sight.'

‘You are sure?' asked the prince gently enough.

‘Indeed,' came the reply. ‘For I would rather live quietly among Beelzebub and all his fiends than in her presence.'

I could not believe what I had done to deserve such censure.
I
was the wronged one;
I
was the one who had found his trick
deck of
Scopa
cards.
I
was the one who had been falsely won, with a hoax that he must have used on every maid from Trento to Napoli.

Borachio shifted and Don Pedro caught sight of me. He smiled and looked a little sheepish, with the same expression I had caught upon him yesterday. Under his breath, he murmured to Benedick, ‘Look, here she comes.'

I had no choice but to nonchalantly approach, as if I was coming to take my leave anyway.

But Benedick merely turned and looked upon me as if I was a stranger. His raised his voice, and addressed the prince with his eyes on me. ‘Now I will sail with Your Highness to the world's end, on any voyage you may devise,' he was playing to the gallery now, ‘rather than hear another word from this harpy. Tell me you have some employment for me?'

Don Pedro answered quietly, ‘You know I have. Come away now.'

But Benedick had one more insult to hurl at me and said it right to my face. ‘Willingly: for I cannot endure my Lady Tongue.'

I stood rooted to the spot, hot tears needling my throat, with every eye in that courtyard watching me, every ear hearing me mocked into air.

At this my aunt, understanding something of what had passed, swept forward. She was tall enough to look Signor Benedick in the eye, and I expected her to leap to my defence; but she was clearly in a different mind as to who was really responsible for the tribulations of the last month.

She looked down upon Don Pedro, with a disdain that belied their ranks. ‘Prince. Leave this house now and do not come back into it while I am alive.'

Don Pedro stepped back as if struck. He actually put his hands up as if to ward off a blow. ‘Lady …' he began, but could say nothing more. The Spanish were all as silent as
errant schoolboys, and even Signor Benedick had halted his tongue.

I looked at my aunt's face – implacable, unafraid – and saw Guglielma Crollalanza staring out of her eyes. I suddenly knew that Hero would be all right.

Don Pedro, his face curiously set, mounted his horse without another word and Benedick did likewise. Then they spurred their mounts and moved off through the great arch, as close as two Templars, with the rest of the cavalry behind them. Claudio in his purple turned back and waved to a tearful Hero, but Benedick sat in his saddle, his broad back straight as a rod, and did not turn at all.

I clenched my fists in frustration. I had to have my reply.

I ran as fast as I could out of the gate, and over down the mountain path, prickly with cactuses, where there was a short cut to the corner with the shrine upon it. There I stood on a rocky outcrop high above the road. And the procession passed below me.

I did not know what I wanted to say, but knew I had to have the last word. I spied Signor Benedick's golden head and screamed like a fishwife. ‘Aye. Go, then!' He looked up, and Babieca stumbled. ‘For I promise to eat all of your killing!' But he turned his stony face to the road, and spurred his horse to catch up his sworn brother Don Pedro. He had made his choice.

I scrambled down to the shrine, and looked after the train until it was gone from my sight. Suddenly desolate, I brushed the dust from my skirts. I felt someone watching me and turned to the roadside icon of Mary. She regarded me from her almond eyes.

I straightened up, and raised my chin. I did not need a husband. I would live free, speak my mind, and henceforth I would dance alone.

ACT FOUR

Benedick:
I, Benedick, born of merchant stock in Padua, was sitting in the presence chamber of the man they called the most potent monarch in Christendom.

We had travelled directly from Messina to Madrid, and thence to El Escorial, a vast palace of creamy stone, with towers and domes and roofs of pewter-grey slate. Here, as the sun lowered behind the pollarded trees outside, we were to attend, with all Spanish nobles, the king's legendary
Junta de Noche.
The Colloquy of the Night.

It was an ironic title; for they said that His Spanish Majesty had a command so wide that in his lands the sun would neither rise nor set. It was always day somewhere in his empire; it was said he could command the sun. I hoped so. For from the hints I had gleaned along the way about the enterprise he planned here this night, he would need to command the sun, the moon and the four winds too.

I was sensible of the honour of attending such a conference, and was looking forward to serving so great a king. But I had been seated for hours now in the great chamber that looked on to the beauteous gardens, as the golden afternoon wore away. I'd sat through numerous separate colloquies on the subject of munitions, arms and armour, and the provision of ships. It seemed that every eventuality had to be covered, and I yawned discreetly through the endless talk. The chancellery legislators had even laid down the exact form of words which were to be
followed should anyone happen upon treasure in the course of this mysterious mission.
‘Let each man who finds a trove lay his hands upon it and say the following form of words … His Majesty shall vouchsafe a tithe share of the treasure to the finder, and ennoble him in the rolls of Spain.
' I did not really listen, for such a provision seemed overly optimistic.