In the Shadow of Shakespeare (21 page)

Mare
looked despondently at the girl. “I don’t know this one’s name.  I found
her wandering the street, almost starved.  I brought her back here. 
A good nurse she is.  She took an instant like to Mary.  Never leaves
her side.”  She looked at the girl. 

 “How
long have ye been here sweet?”  Mare said.

The
girl looked at her feet and mumbled something.  She looked traumatized, as
if she had seen things that she shouldn’t.  Her eyes were big and
haunted. 

“We
must take care of one another.  Who else will?”  Mare looked at
Alice, tying her shawl around her shoulders. 

 “And
may I stay with you Mare?  I have no one else.” 

Mare
checked her appearance in the mirror against the wall.  She smoothed her
blond hair from her face and spread something from a little pot she pulled from
her dress pocket on her eyes.  Stepping back, she admired the
effect.  She watched Alice from the mirror.

 “Aye. 
You mays’t.  I knew when I first saw ye that would be the case – thou was
alone.”  She motioned towards a trunk in the corner.  “I ha’ a spare
gown in that trunk.  You mays’t wear it and accompany me to the
Mermaid.”  Alice hesitated, and Mare stopped applying her makeup and
turned to face her. “Go to.  It shall fit ye.”

Alice
swallowed a lump in her throat, thinking of the difficulty that this scenario
presented.  She walked to the trunk and opened it, pulling a gown of
mulberry from its depths.  She felt the cloth, rubbing it between her
fingers, and held it to her body.  Standing behind Mare, Alice looked at
the effect.  Gingerly holding the gown to her, she pressed the extra
fabric around her waist. 

 “I
think the gown is too big.” 

Mare
looked up exasperated.  She set the makeup pot down and stood behind 
Alice.  “Pish.  The gown is fine.  Look, I can pull it in.
See?”  She showed Alice the drawstrings in the back.  Alice looked at
these doubtfully.  “What say you now.”  Mare threw the gown on the
bed. “Ye ha’ next to nothing to wear.  Put it on.”  Mare stood
looking at her. 

Alice
tentatively picked up the dress from the bed and began removing her shorts.

Mare
laughed.  “Why dos’t thou take off these underthings?” 

The
girl looked up surprised.

 “My
underwear is underneath.”  Alice removed her shorts and stood in the
middle of the room in her underwear.

Mare
walked over and pulled her underwear back, peering in.  “Ah, ye are a
woman.”  She snapped the underwear back in place.  “The thing
stretches!”  She laughed, looked at the girl.  The girl smiled.

Alice
stepped away from her, quickly pulled her shirt over her head, and pulled the
gown on.  She stood in front of the mirror, admiring the
affect.   “I don’t see what is so funny.  Can someone help me
with these?” She pulled the drawstrings behind her, but they were too loose to
pull tightly. 

Mare
stepped over Alice’s clothes on the floor.  Grabbing the drawstrings, she
pulled tightly, and deftly tied the strings in a knot.  She stepped back
from Alice.  “’Tis truly a gown made for you, Lady.”

The
cloth was light, a finely woven mulberry, with intricate beadwork sewn in the
bodice.  The top of her bosom was exposed.  She knew gowns were
designed for breast feeding, or, when whores were trying to sell their wares,
the breasts could be released from the gown.  Alice fingered the silk
fabric sewn into strips in the skirt of the gown.  She pulled the pin from
her bun, and her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders. 

Mare
winked at her admiringly. “Ye shall have all the pence ye may need with the
likes of those on display.” 

 “Please,
Mare. I won’t be doing
that
.”

Mare
frowned.  “What?  With the airs again, I see.  Come Lady, let us
take leave.  The time is late.”

Alice
cringed.  The thought of drunk and drooling seventeenth century men made
her stomach clench.  She thought of lice and venereal disease.  She
thought of their hands pawing her flesh. 

 “I
think I will…wait a few moments.  Go without me, Mare.  I know where
the Mermaid is.”  She offered a weak smile, hoping to deter Mare for as
long as she could.      Mare smirked, opened her mouth to
say something, thought better of it, and walked out the door.  A whoosh of
dust blew behind her as she left.  The thin light that filtered through
the window illuminated the floating specks.  Alice stood looking at them
for a few moments, and then turned to the girl on the bed. 

 “I
don’t think I can do this.”  Alice said quietly.

The
girl quickly looked away. 

Alice
walked to the window.   The light was fading, covering the street in
mellow gold and soft shadow.  An old blind beggar walked slowly down the
street, tapping a cane in front of him.  When he was almost out of view he
stopped, and carefully set himself down a few feet from a street vendor. 
Most of the market people had left, but there were a few late proprietors.  
A woman selling bread reached into a basket and gave a small roll to the blind
man who sat next to her stall.  The beggar gratefully took the bread and
lifted his hat to her. 

 “Will
you tell me your name?”  Alice said, still looking out the window. 
She didn’t expect the girl to answer, but it was worth a try.  Silence
covered the room.  Alice turned and looked at the girl.  Her hair was
dirty, and she didn’t look up.  Alice came and sat next to her. 

 “My
name is Anne.” 

She
said it so quietly that it seemed to come from a ghost.  Alice wondered if
she imagined it.  “What?”

 “Anne. 
My name is Anne.”

 “I
thought that’s what you said.”  She patted her hand.  “Will the baby
wake soon?”  Alice looked at the sleeping baby in the cradle.  The
baby looked peaceful enough sucking on her finger. 

Anne
continued to stare at the floor.  Alice realized that the girl was
probably deeply disturbed.  She wondered how much time Mare had for
her. 

 “Are
you hungry?”

Anne
nodded.  She then sighed.  It was a deep sigh that seemed to reach to
the bottom of her feet.  “I want for sleep too, Lady.”  Anne lay back
on the bed and pulled her hands up to her chin.  She pulled her body into
a fetal position, and her eyes became glassy.  Alice became alarmed. 

 “Anne?”

Anne
lifted her head. 

 “Don’t
fall asleep yet.  I’m going to get you something to eat.”  Alice
stood and began looking around the house.  She walked from the back
bedroom to the large room in the front.  Large wooden beams lined the
ceiling.   Amongst the sparse furnishings there was a jug on top of a
wooden side board.  Alice poured the contents into a small earthen
cup.  She lifted the cup to her nose.  It smelled like sweet
wine.  Taking a sip she recognized the potion was sack – a cheap wine
found abundantly during the Renaissance.   

This
won’t do…I need water.

A
trunk stood against another wall, and Alice pulled the lid open.  She
pulled out a few gowns and tiny baby dresses.  In the corner of the trunk
was a small wooden box, carved with the initials MM.  She opened the
lid.  It was empty.  Alice put the contents back in the trunk. 
Sitting back on her haunches, she put her arms around her legs, trying to
think.  She felt something small and hard press into her leg. 
Feeling on the outside of the gown she discovered a small pocket.  Alice
excitedly groped inside the pocket, pulling forth some coins.  She
examined the coins – two pence.  Jingling the change in her hand, she
quickly walked out the door. 

Across
the street the bread vendor was putting her wares away.

 “Wait!” 

The
woman looked at her quizzically.

 “Yea?”

 “Do
you have any more bread?”

 “Surely
I do.”

 “How
much for a pence?”  Alice held the coin in her hand.

 “Even
dozen.”

 “Here.” 
She handed the woman her coin, and realized she had no way of carrying the
bread.  The woman looked at her doubtfully.

 “Do
ye live near?”  The woman asked.

 “You
wouldn’t happen to have any water?”  Alice gathered the bread in her
skirt.  “I have another pence.”

The
women looked around. “The water I brought today.”  She picked up an
earthen jug.  “’Tis half full.”  She handed it to Alice and collected
her pence.  “Good even Lady.  I hope you fare well.”  She
nodded, and continued to place her bread in baskets. 

Alice
began walking across the street, managing to twist her skirt around the bread
forming a sort of bag, carrying the water jug in the same hand.   She
extracted a roll and bit into it, realizing how hungry she was.  The bread
had a hard crust and a soft interior.  It melted in her mouth. 

As
she approached the house a shadowy figure appeared outside the door.  Her
heart began beating faster.

She
held the jug tight between her finger and thumb, ready to use it as a
weapon. 

 “How
now, pretty Lady?” 

She
recognized the voice but couldn’t place the face. “Who is it?”

“It? 
It is a thing, and I am no thing , Lady.  Perchance a thing of jest will
riddle you.” 

He
stepped in front of her. 

“Aaron?”

“Aye,
the one.”

Feeling
instant relief, she stopped in front of him.  “What are you doing out
here?  It’s pitch black.”

“I
protect the fair ones of this house.  Mare might not say so, but ‘tis
true.  I watch them well.”

Alice
bit into her roll.  “Want one?”  She offered the bread from her
skirt.

“Gramercy
Lady, I am starved.”  He took the bread, and, after taking a bite, did a
backwards flip.  Surprised, Alice laughed.  It seemed as though he
had vanished into a blur of green and white. 

“Where
do you live Aaron?”

“Hadeus.” 
He looked embarrassed. 

“Hadeus,
then, where do you live?” 

“Where
I can, Lady.  Where I can.”  He deposited his roll into a side
pouch.  “I know not when I eat again.”  He bowed before her. 
“If thous’t grant me the chance to be so bold…The question Lady – what parts
dost thou hail from?”  He watched her carefully, and Alice felt he was
memorizing her face. 

“I..ah…from
the low countries.”

He
nodded.  “I ha’ been across the sea to the place.  Perchance you hail
further then that?  I know not of your accent.”  He looked at her
slyly.  “Perchance, a place we have not heard of?”

Alice
said nothing.

“We
both have something to hide Lady.  I am a Jew, and thou dost know
it.  You are conjured…from a far place.  I dost know it.  I will
say naught to a soul, Lady.  Thou can keep a secret with me.” He smiled in
the dark – white teeth gleaming.  She wondered how he had managed to keep
his teeth this long. 

“What
do you mean by that, Hadeus?  That I am conjured?”

He
shook his head.  “Some things cannot be spoken of, Lady.  Some things
are known, but not.  It is a magical art.”

Alice
felt confused.  “You sound like Mare.”

“Aye. 
We are all in the theatre, one way, or another.” 

“That
sounds suspiciously familiar.”

“Familiar?”

“The
world is but a stage…You know, from the play?”  Alice stopped, realizing
he wouldn’t know.  The play hadn’t been written yet.

“Ye
know of playmaking?   Are ye a poet, Lady?”

“My
name is Alice.  And yes, I do write plays.”  She smiled broadly,
wondering if her teeth gleamed as his did.

“I
ha’ naught heard of a woman…playmaker.” 

A
dog began barking.  Alice turned towards the sound and then turned back
towards Aaron.  “I must make my living somehow.  I’m afraid Mare
thinks I must be a whore to make money.”

He
nodded. “ ’Tis hard for a woman.  If you must make your keep, ye can try
your luck at the Mermaid.   Many of the whores make change there.”

“I
don’t think you understand Hadeus.  I don’t want to become a whore.”

He
scratched his head. “There is a playmaker that stays late until the night
working.  Perchance you could speak with him.  He knows of much
theater work.  I do jests in all of his plays.”   He puffed his
chest out proudly, and Alice expected him to do another backward flip, but
instead he bowed.  “I must take my leave Lady, ‘tis late and revelers will
be about.  They expect to make merry on my head, and I need to take
care.” 

Without
so much as a glance back he disappeared into the shadows, and Alice was left
standing alone in the night.  The dog had stopped barking, and the night
was growing still and quiet.  A cricket chirped close by her feet,
startling her.  She pushed the door open.   She walked towards
the back room and found Anne holding the baby.  A candle flickered on a
nearby table.  Mary had begun to get fussy, and Anne was bouncing her in
her arms.
 
With her wails growing
increasingly frantic, Anne began to look increasingly harried.