Kissing Shakespeare (7 page)

After Shakespeare returned to the minstrels’ gallery, I noticed Stephen heading toward an outer door. I danced a few more times, once with Fulke and then with a boy who said he was a neighbor. Afterward, I wandered outside to look for Stephen. Cut adrift from all that was familiar, I felt a little lost when he wasn’t around. I strolled through the courtyard, hoping to spot him. I thought I saw him, but when I called out, I realized I’d interrupted a man and woman kissing, locked in an embrace so tight they looked like one person. Mumbling an apology, I hurried on. By now I’d made it to the outer courtyard, where I could no longer hear music or voices.

It was so still and quiet here. No traffic noises and no artificial light. A solitary bird sang in the night, and a light breeze rustled through the vast forest. So different from my world, where absolute silence existed in very few places. Maybe above the Arctic Circle.

“Miranda?”

I jumped. “I wish you wouldn’t call my name like that, just out of nowhere. And you’re supposed to be calling me Olivia.”

“A slip of the tongue,” Stephen said. “Were you not looking for me?” He was seated on a stone bench, just beyond the outer courtyard. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand and pulled me down next to him. “Did you tire of the revelry so quickly?”

I snorted. “Time travel can be exhausting.”

He gazed at me for a second but didn’t comment. “This is the tilting green. The benches are provided for watching the jousts.”

Briefly, I conjured up a vision of King Arthur and Lancelot. “Do you do that? Joust?”

“On occasion. I’m very poor at it and would far rather protect my own skin than gain the worshipful notice of the ladies. Tell me about your dance with Shakespeare.”

“He offered to deepen my knowledge of poetry. I felt really special until Jennet informed me he was teaching her to read.”

Stephen chuckled. “Aye, that would be part of it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Jennet is here to learn how to manage a home and probably to continue her education—what little she may already have had. Her father most likely requested it, for Puritans are keen on everyone reading the Bible. In English, of course.”

“I’m afraid I offended her.”

“Indeed? How so?”

I related my comments to Jennet and her reaction.

“You must try to hide your modern views, Olivia! Many girls and women of this era cannot read, even those from wealthy homes. And it is best not to make an enemy of anyone.” I could hear the disapproval in his little lecture, so I decided to tease him with my theory about Jennet.

“She has a major crush on Shakespeare, you know.”

“A … what?”

“A crush.” I thought for a second. “She fancies him.”

“You’ve had one conversation with her and deduced this?”

“It’s more than just from our talk. I’ve been watching her watch him.”

“And what of Shakespeare? Does he fancy her?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“Your job will be more difficult if he’s already besotted with someone else.”

Which would force me to stay here even longer! “If Will fell for Jennet, he wouldn’t run off to become a priest, would he? Maybe you don’t need me after all.”

“Ah, but a Puritan girl will not allow any … physical demonstrations of affection, shall we say. In your time, young ladies have no such inhibitions.”

“You mean we’re willing to have sex with just anybody. Is that what you’re saying?”

When he didn’t answer, my temper flashed. “Well, you’re wrong, Stephen! Not all of us are … experienced.”

“Calm yourself, Olivia. I do not mean for you to slip under the coverlet with Will, at least not immediately. But there’s no harm in letting him believe you might.”

I seethed. I’d better set some limits on what I was willing to do, even to save the genius Shakespeare. “Well, if you think—”

“Soft! Someone could overhear us,” he cautioned. Stephen reached for my hand, but I yanked it away. “Kate the Curst,” I heard him mumble under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“ ’Twas nothing.” He looked up and said, “I missed the night sky when I was in your century. Even in moonlight, the stars glow passing bright here.”

I relaxed a little. He was right. With no artificial light to dim their effect, the stars rocketed out of the darkness. I was spellbound until Stephen’s voice called me back.

“Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-browed night
,

Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die
,

Take him and cut him out in little stars—”

Recognizing the lines from
Romeo and Juliet
, I joined in:

“—And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night
,

And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

“Have you played Juliet?” he asked.

“I wanted to audition for Juliet in last year’s play, but my mother thought I was too inexperienced. Of course, she’s played her dozens of times. Now she’s too old. She dreads being relegated to roles like the nurse.”

“But she is playing Cleopatra at present, is she not?”

“How did you know that?”

“I heard you talking to your friend Macy about it.”

God, it was weird to think Stephen had eavesdropped on some of my conversations. “She
is
playing Cleopatra. Stage makeup does wonders for wrinkles. And of course, she’s had work done.”

“I do not understand—”

“In my time, doctors can surgically remove sags and bags and wrinkles. It’s called a face-lift.”

“Amazing. And which of Shakespeare’s ladies is your mother most like?”

“Lady Macbeth,” I blurted out.

Steven laughed. “You mean she would dash your brains out to further her career?”

“If that’s what it took, probably. But she’s always arranged things so that wouldn’t be necessary. What would her fans think if she murdered her only child?”

“Surely you are too hard on her.”

“You don’t know what she’s capable of,” I insisted.

“Perhaps not.”

Something was puzzling me. “How can you know Shakespeare’s work well enough to quote from it? How do you even know it’s worth saving?”

“ ’Tis a long story.”

I looked straight at him. “I have all night.”

He sighed, probably wanting to keep his secrets. “I had to gauge the authenticity of the information I’d gleaned about Shakespeare. I spent many months in your time studying the plays, watching performances, and—as you already know—acting. It was no easy task passing myself off as a modern youth, years younger than my true age of twenty. But it was essential to my … work.”

I hadn’t guessed Stephen’s age, although I knew by now he had to be older. Hiding my surprise, I said, “How did you get away with it?”

“By cowering in my lodgings whenever I was not in a library or school or at a performance. Distancing myself from everyone. In truth, I did not venture out except to purchase food, and of course clothing when I first arrived.”

“And you lived … where?”

“Cheap inns. It makes no difference.”

“How did you get money?”

“I was able to acquire some of your currency with gold coins.”

I had a sudden vision of Stephen hurrying off after every rehearsal, always making an excuse when the rest of us were going out for pizza. “You must have been lonely.”

“Aye, very, but I couldn’t risk too much exposure. My ignorance of modern society was all too obvious.”

“Just as my ignorance of Elizabethan society is.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes. “But you have me to assist you.”

“There is that.”

Rising, he said, “Let’s go in. We’ll need to be up early tomorrow.”

I could see I wasn’t going to get any more out of him tonight, so I followed him toward our chambers, where we wished each other an awkward and rather formal good night.

I
N A LIGHT DRIZZLE
, Stephen helped me onto my small horse, which he called a palfrey. We were out beyond the stables, and no one else had joined us yet. This morning we would ride to the town of Preston, five miles from Hoghton Tower. It wasn’t long before the grooms were leading the other horses out, walking them around while waiting for their riders. The air was redolent with dung, dampness, and the unique odor I was beginning to associate with riding.

“This is a smaller horse, good for ladies,” Stephen said. “You can rest your feet on the planchette.” He pointed to the footrest hanging down on the horse’s side. “Or you can place one knee over the pommel and turn yourself toward the front. Try it.”

“What’s her name?” I asked, easing my right leg up and hooking it over the pommel. My left foot stayed on the planchette. Awkward, but I thought I’d feel more in control if I was facing forward.

“Peg.” I felt Stephen’s hand wrap around my foot. “Where are the pattens I gave you this morning?”

I grimaced. “I forgot all about them.” Earlier, he’d given me some very weird-looking wooden overshoes. They had slightly raised heels, and according to him, were supposed to prevent your slippers from getting wet and muddy. Leather straps held them in place.

“Your feet will be wet and cold without them.”

I hated to admit it, but he was right. “I’ll run and get them.”

“I’ll walk you in.”

“Oh, don’t bother. I’ll be fine.”

I found my way with no trouble. After strapping the pattens on, I hurried down the stairs and came face to face with Master Thomas Cook. Without any hesitation, he offered his arm. “May I have the honor?”

I nodded and we strolled back toward the horses. “ ’Tis a pity about the weather,” I said.

“ ’Tis indeed.”

My turn. “How long before you travel to Oxford, sir?”

He looked down at me with those piercing blue eyes and a hint of a smile. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Perhaps he thought it was none of my business. I felt my cheeks growing warm.

But he answered me easily enough. “I am in no hurry. Master Hoghton has a fine library and has allowed me the use of it for my studies. I do not need to be at Oxford until Trinity term begins.”

Whenever that was
. “And what do you study, Master Cook?”

“I am a teacher of religion and philosophy. Latin, too.” He smiled kindly. “How long will you and your brother remain with your aunt and uncle?”

“I am not certain,” I demurred. “It is for Stephen—and my father, of course—to decide. A month or so, I suppose.”

“Much time for enjoyment. We never lack for pastimes here at Hoghton Tower.”

Will Shakespeare, astride his own horse, waited beside mine. Master Cook inclined his head slightly toward me before handing me over to him. A groom helped me remount the little horse. “I would be honored to escort you to Preston, Mistress Olivia,” Will said, taking hold of my horse’s reins.

“Good. Excellent. Thank you, sir.” Will looked like he might laugh. Oh my God, why couldn’t I just stick with short answers?

When Jennet appeared, she glowered at me. As one of the grooms helped her up, Stephen guided his horse over to her and stayed by her side. I wondered how he’d maneuvered this, me with Will and himself with Jennet, who obviously would have preferred Shakespeare as her escort. Stephen said something to her, and I caught her smiling, so she must have adjusted pretty quickly. Well, it was fine by me. I’d much rather chat with Will than deal with Stephen’s sarcasm and big-brother attitude.

Everyone was mounted and ready, clustered together talking. We were a small group, Masters Hoghton and Cook, Fulke, Will, Jennet, Stephen, and me. When our procession finally got under way, I felt like one of the stars of a movie about Queen Elizabeth or her mother, Anne Boleyn. As hooves clattered over the cobbled outer courtyard, Hoghton liveried men, dressed in black doublets with white trim, assumed their places at both the front and rear of our group.

For the outing, I’d worn the russet travel outfit and wrapped myself up in a heavy wool cloak with a hood. Before long, the rain had soaked into my cloak, which now hung cold and sodden on my body, and my hands were freezing. No wonder people in these times caught every disease in existence.

I hoped the long ride down the approach road counted as at least one of the five miles to Preston. Will had been riding a little ahead of me, but now he slowed his horse so we were side by side. “How do you fare, mistress?”