In the Shadow of Shakespeare (19 page)

Christopher
looked around for the gypsy.  She had disappeared.

“Christopher
Marlowe, the playmaker,” he handed Christopher the bag. “I know of Mare, and
the babe Mary.  Give this to her, and let her be well.”  He bowed
slightly, and jumped off the chair, heading towards the back of the room.

“Sir?”

The
dwarf turned. 

“Do
ye know of her?  The woman of my dream?”  Christopher extracted the
precious card from a pocket bag.

The
dwarf nodded.  “She shall be forged to ye – in another time.  The
breath she speaks shall be of yours, in remembrance.”  He turned again to
go.

“Sir…?”

“Be
gone now.  Sir Francis awaits.”

“Pray
tell sir, what ‘tis your name?”

 He
waved his hand in dismissal, and Christopher opened the door, positioning his
hood over his head.  He bowed slightly to the dwarf, and left quickly,
neither looking to the right, nor left, but straight ahead to the
street.   Before he turned the corner he looked back, to memorize
where the hovel was. 

It
had disappeared.

Christopher
stopped, rubbed his eyes, and opened them again. 

It
was still gone.

 ***

The
door was slightly ajar and he let himself in.  Christopher felt flushed,
as if the dirt and grime from the street still stuck to his face.  He
brushed his face with his sleeve; saw the outline of dirt.  Trying to rub
to rub the dirt with his fingers he became aware of the stillness of the
house.  Standing there waiting for the manservant, he rocked slightly on
his feet; feeling the boards creak, felt a twinge of fear.

 “Guliet?”

The
voice rang clear and sharp, feeling for any uncertainties.  Christopher
stopped brushing his shirt sleeve, and felt his muscles tense.

 “No,
sir, ‘tis Christopher Marlowe.  At your service.”  He listened,
poised and alert.

The
air felt thick, pungent with knowing.  It seemed as if Walsingham cut
through the air with his thoughts, tendrils of knowing uncurled, feelers put
forth to grip their host.  With heightened awareness, Christopher walked
into the room to meet Walsingham.
 
He did
not turn his head to greet him, but sat immobile, staring into the fire. 

 “Sir?”

 “The
matter of Baines is ta’en care…I see you are waiting to matriculate?”

 “Aye. 
That I am, sir.”

 “We
have given the order to let you proceed.  The manner in which you
skillfully made Baines…
bound
Baines, was most pleasing to her
majesty.  There ‘tis nothing more irksome to her than the seminary
situation at Rheims.  Though I have spoken to her continually of matters
that are of more import…,”  Walsingham turned his gaze towards
Christopher. 

There
is of naught that he cannot see…

Christopher
tore his eyes from Walsingham’s piercing gaze.  The fire continually
danced, bringing a soft glow to the surroundings.  On the table in front
of Walsingham lay an object of wood and glass. 

 “What
will you do now, Master Marlowe?  Now that you are finished at
university?”

 “I
shall continue in London, sir, as a scholar and a poet.” 

Walsingham
nodded, and bringing the tips of his fingers together, he placed them

near
his chin.  The effect was something like praying.  He waited for
Walsingham to again speak, and, growing uneasy at the silence, began to study
the wood and glass object that lie on the table. 

Walsingham
watched him with amusement.  “They make such things in Barbary lands, the
southwest portion of Spain. So Raleigh doth say. He brought back this
artifice.”

Christopher
nodded, waiting.  There was no use wasting time in idle conversation.

 “And
what say you, Master Marlowe?  Are you not ta’en with things
fantastical?  Did you not
conjure
Baines?”

Christopher
shifted from one foot to the other.  “The conjurer is easily conjured,
sir. But ‘tis no matter, I brought forth that which came from his own accord.”

Walsingham
laughed.  “How will thou decide, who fore art the conjured, or the
conjurer?  Are
you
not the same?  Thou art a spy Marlowe, lest
thou forget.” 

 “These
entanglements are easily unknotted, if the side thou art fashion is true and
fair.  I know my own true cord, ‘tis heart felt of queen and country. “Tis
the tapestry of my heart.”

Walsingham
nodded.  “But what of true and fair on many levels?  As such is
this?”  He gestured towards the object of wood and glass.  It was an
elaborate chess set, built upon three tiers.  The players had to maneuver
amongst all three levels. 

 “The
levels are one, sir.  Thou must remember tha –”

 “That
is the thing, these levels.  How cans’t thou remain true and fair amongst
all three: players, council, and queen?  Cans’t thou do it?” 

Christopher
felt a presence.  He felt as if the dwarf were in the room with them,
watching him. 

 “A
game, Master Marlowe?”

 “Sir…I
must beg off.  I have been too much in the world.”

Walsingham
nodded.  “Rightfully so.”

 “I
beg your leave sir.  I have affairs I must attend.”  He felt the
tension begin to drain, and the knots release themselves.  His muscles
began to relax.  He would soon be safe. 

 “There
will come a time, where we must enter into the game.  Betwixt the two of
us.  I will be in touch with you for further service.  Go to.” 

Christopher
nodded, taking his leave.  Guliet had entered the hall.  He placed a
hand lightly on Christopher’s shoulder.  Slipping a note in his hand, he
whispered in his ear.

 “Alvis
said ye forgot this.”

 “Alvis?”

 “Aye,” 
Guliet looked at him strangely.  “Ye met him earlier.”  He led
Christopher out the door.  “And Lakshmi?”

 “Lakshmi…the
woman?”

 “Aye,
the one.”

There
was a faint smell of spices and incense on Guliet.   His eyes were a
deep sea green, set in a swarthy face.  Christopher tried to read his
eyes, but Guliet shut the door, leaving him standing outside. 

Christopher
turned the note over in his hand.  It was the card that he had shown the
dwarf.  On the back were written four words.  He brought the card to
his eyes, for the writing was faint and old and spidery. 
Twinned
hearts
in time
. Turning the card over again he noticed a sun and
moon above the lovers clasped in their embrace.  And above the picture of
the sun and moon was a small eye in the middle of a doorway.  As he looked
at it it seemed to blink, and then change into the figure of a tiny woman.

Chapter 26

Alice
sat on the stoop of the doorway of their new house.   The day was
clear and bright with a thin strata of clouds in the upper most layer of the
sky.  A feeling of peace settled around her, even though she had come to
the house with a profound feeling of disturbance and agitation.  The
agitation started when Sonia and Brad ran off to Acapulco a week before the
opening of
The Jew of Malta
.  There had been no word from either of
them.  The understudy for Sonia, Lucy Branard, was sick with the
flu.  And to top it all off, Derrin had been embezzling money from the
theatre company.  He had a cocaine addiction.  Alice had tried to get
a hold of Jim Schelling, but he was in London. 

The
garden trowel fell from her hand, clacking on the stone step.  White roses
surrounded her.  Roses she did not know if she would plant or not. 
White
of marriage, white of the sun
….it didn’t matter anymore.  The thoughts
trailed off while she sat thinking of white. 

Earlier,
she had placed the daffodils on the sink that Albert had given her as a house
warming present.  Of course, she thought, the only reason he gave them to
me was because of guilt – guilt that he couldn’t be here on the formal day of
house closure.  It was the first house they had owned together and now he
wasn’t here. 

She
had admired the petals of the daffodils and how translucent they were. 
The light shining through the petals cast many shades of light and white –
pale
green in the innermost sanctum of the flower…
She thought how sensual
flowers were, and why men gave them to women. 

The
late afternoon light had shifted, and a breeze began to blow.  She stuck
her legs out in front of her to capture the last warming rays of light. 
Warm sunlight felt so good after a long Michigan winter. 

In
lieu of everything that had happened it had been a phone call that had unnerved
her.  The call didn’t surprise her, but she felt that this could be the
untied rope that set the boat out to flow in the depths. 
I must be
careful to shield myself from this anxiety…

Bernie
and Selina had left for some remote region in Brazil.  It was Bernie who
had called her with barely constrained joy and enthusiasm.  He seemed to
try to cloak his jubilance because he was aware of letting her down by
leaving.  Selina had recently received a grant to study with tribal
shamans.  She would document their mythologies and relate this to her
developing thesis of the commonalities of all world mythologies.  She
would do most of her research when the shamans had undertaken
ayahuascera
,
a powerful psychotropic drug which gave its imbibers fantastical visions and
insights. Bernie had said he was amazed at what knowledge and insight he had
received after partaking in an ayahuescara ceremony.   He was
especially jubilant because he said the plants seemed to be communicating on a
molecular level to the people who had taken the mixture.  In fact, the
shamans claimed that it was the plants
themselves
that told them how to
mix two very specific substances together to get the psychotropic effect. 
He claimed that participants had gained knowledge of DNA through their visions
of snakes and other serpentine creatures.

She
was skeptical.  It all sounded like
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
to her. 

“Well,
now that you mention it, I believe Lewis Carrol was on opiates when he wrote
that book.”

“Maybe. 
But Bernie, what does this have to do with quantum mechanics?”

There
was a sigh on the other end of the line.  “Alice, I had to let go of that
job for awhile. This work with Selina inspires me.  We were fortunate to
be able to work together.”

There
was a crackling noise on the line.

“What’s
that?” she said.

“We’ve
been having trouble with the phones.  I’ve got to get going.  Take
care Alice.”

As
she hung up the phone she realized that Bernie’s journeys with ayahuascera were
not so far removed from her own.

A
loud thunderclap sounded, and she looked to her left down the road, amazed at
what was transpiring.  Cutting across the blue sky, a series of black
thunderclouds were making her way towards her.  They were nestled on the
horizon, punctuated with unearthly streaks of green and yellow.  Bright
bursts of lightening flashed through the black clouds. 

 
The roses could wait until tomorrow.  Now she would take a long soak in
her claw-footed tub.  She carefully snipped three roses from the potted
plants to place in a vase next to the tub. 

“Ouch! 
Damnit!” 

A
thorn from a rose had punctured her thumb, sending blood to the surface of her
skin.  Scrutinizing the small bead forming she stuck the thumb in her
mouth and sat on the steps looking down the road towards the horizon, where the
light was becoming fuzzy and unclear. 

Near
the end of the road there a small figure approached.  Alice thought it odd
that someone would be out walking with an impending thunderstorm threatening to
burst forth. It was a very isolated road, with the next house being at least a
quarter of a mile away.  As the figure neared the house it seemed to stop
near the old oak near the crossroads.  Unbelievably, it seemed to blink on
and then off – one moment it was here, and the next, gone.   

She
rubbed her eyes - surely she was tired and imagining things.  How could a
person blink on and off?  How could a person be here one moment and gone
the next?  She decided the person was ill and wandering around – possibly
out of their mind.  She stood and made her way to at the end of the walk,
hands on hips, waiting.  The figure turned towards her.  Alice
squinted, trying to make out who the person was.  He, or she, was wearing
a little red, pointed hat.  Alice started laughing –
a dwarf, that’s
what it is!  Someone from the theatre thinks they’re pretty funny, trying
to bring me out of my funk…Maybe Jim…

Smiling
broadly, she started walking briskly towards the dwarf.  The dwarf
continued to stare at her.  Alice noticed something strange about the dwarf’s
eyes.  Fascinated, she continued walking slowly.  Although the dwarf
continued to stand motionless, one eye seemed to grow exceedingly large. 
As Alice watched the eye grow in size she could see people moving inside
it.  The pupil had disappeared, along with the dwarf.  There was
nothing but this round, growing movie projection, full of people moving
around.    Mesmerized, Alice could do nothing but stare. 
She wondered vaguely if she was losing her mind, but she felt so much at ease
she decided this must not be the case.