Ophelia

by Jackie French

  The queen let her arm drop. Her face was calm, but I knew the effort it took. ‘You must be tired, my son.’

  I could see the strength needed for Prince Hamlet too, to keep his voice steady. ‘I expect to grow more tired of many things, madam, and quickly. If my welcome has been not as I expected, will you welcome my attendants at least?’ He turned to his servants. ‘Let my mother help you to her marriage feast. As her son, I will seek what sun there still is in Denmark while it may last.’

  He strode between the tables and out the door. The cold air battered at the candle flames. The fires withered, then roared back.

  For a moment I thought the queen would follow him. King Claudius grasped her wrist. She stood as still as the gravestone under which her dead husband lay, then forced herself to smile at Hamlet’s servants.

  ‘Kind gentlemen, I bid you, stand on no ceremony. Let your travel clothes be tokens of our joy that fate brought you here in time to share with us this feast.’

  Already, lords were moving tactfully down their benches, making space for the new guests. They sat awkwardly. Servers placed trenchers in front of them and filled goblets. Mouths full of food can’t argue for rebellion, I thought. Already one of the men was lifting a wing of pheasant to his mouth.

  I glanced at the queen. In truth, I always watched her, as a lady-in-waiting should. Even when I had looked at Hamlet, I had been aware of her too. She nodded to me, so slight a movement that no one in the lower tables noticed. I stood and made my way up to the high-backed chairs where she sat with our new king.

  I curtseyed, deeply. ‘Your Majesties.’ I let my voice linger on the plural.

  ‘Go, find my son,’ the queen murmured. ‘If beauty can tame a beast … well, you are beauty.’ And sensible, said her look, if not her words.

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  Triumph rippled through me like a spring stream through the snow. Once again the queen had announced almost as openly as saying out loud: ‘This is the girl I want my son to marry.’

  But if I was ever to be a queen, I must tame an angry prince now.

  Chapter 4

  My father didn’t notice as I slipped between the tables. Laertes did. Not much escaped this brother of mine, it seemed. His eyes narrowed as he watched me go, but he didn’t rise to stop me. He must have seen the queen speak to me. One does not question the orders of a queen.

  The corridor was empty, the lords and ladies all in the banquet hall, and most of the servants carrying food and drink up from the kitchens. I lifted my skirts so I could run. Once Prince Hamlet reached his chambers, I wouldn’t be able to talk to him. Even Her Majesty would not command an unwed girl to be alone with a young man there.

  A porter flung wood on the fire in the entrance hall. He looked at me, startled, and I saw a wine skin by his bench. He had expected a quiet time during the wedding and banquet.

  ‘Have you seen Prince Hamlet?’ I asked as he bowed to me.

  ‘He and his attendants went to the banquet hall, my lady.’

  ‘No, just now! By himself.’

  The porter shook his head. ‘No one else has been this way, my lady. Not a peacock nor a sausage, though if there had been a sausage, it would have been my supper.’

  Fool, trying to ape the clever speech of his betters, I thought with half my mind. Or maybe not a fool. A clever porter might become a footman. Prince Hamlet must have gone through one of the doors I’d passed — to the library, or the music room, or up one of the smaller flights of stairs … I stopped. I knew where the prince had gone. The royal garden, where his father, the king, had died.

  The royal garden was the one place in the palace no one could follow him, except his mother, and the new king now, unless they gave permission for others to accompany them. The garden’s walls gave privacy, except from the towers above. Royalty needs to be alone sometimes.

  I had walked in the garden with Her Majesty while Lady Annika dozed on one of the stone seats. In summer, the garden was sweet with roses. In winter, the stone walls trapped the warmth. That must have been why the king had lain there the day he died, in the brief midday winter sun, more delicate than gold and a hundred times more precious.

  But it was afternoon now, and the air was as grey and sombre as the silks of court. As Prince Hamlet’s thoughts must be.

  Did Prince Hamlet know his father had died in the garden? Poor prince, to lose a father and a kingdom and his trust in his mother in one short breath. The queen was right: her son needed comfort. But not from her, today.

  I hesitated at the door to the garden. But the queen had told me to find her son. That must mean I had permission to enter her garden too.

  I opened the door and looked outside. The sun hung low atop the garden walls, as if it was too tired to rise any further, waiting to drop as soon as possible into night. Snow had fallen while we were banqueting, and the paving stones, walls, grass and rose bushes were all so white in the last beams of light that they hurt the eye. The cold bit me like a winter wolf. I shivered in my silks.

  I had been right. There was Prince Hamlet, his cloak black against the snow, standing at the far end of the garden, staring at the fountain, its water frozen glass.

  I stared at him, this prince I had planned to marry. I hadn’t had time to see beyond his loneliness, his shock and his anger before. He was taller than either his father or his uncle, but his shoulders were narrow — a scholar’s physique, not a swordsman’s like my brother’s. He stood tall and straight, but he didn’t look like a king, alone there among the bare thorns of winter’s roses.

  Shame bit me, hard. I had been dreaming about the position, without care for the man who held it, nor thought of his sorrow for his father’s death and the humiliation he must feel now. A poor king with no kingdom, who must wait for his uncle to feed him a crown like scraps from the high table.

  I must have made a sound. He turned. I curtseyed deep, as I would to the king or queen. ‘Your Royal Highness?’

  Prince Hamlet stared at me, his face twisted with anger. ‘Not so high, it seems. Lower than majesty, benched with the courtiers, not enthroned. Oh, stand up,’ he added, when he saw I wouldn’t rise until he told me to.

  I rose, wondering if he had any idea what it felt like to stay in a low curtsey wearing a tight bodice while a prince made a speech. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. I am sent by your royal mother.’

  He snorted. ‘I did not think you had come to lead an army to my side. Not one man in that room had the courage or loyalty to stand with me, son of their great king.’

  Not so great a king, I thought. A man who had won a kingdom with a bet; who had ruled it with so little love that both my father and his queen doubted that the people would fight for his son if Fortinbras invaded. Prince Hamlet’s father’s lack of greatness had led to this.

  ‘My lord,’ I said carefully, ‘your day in the sun will come.’

  ‘When summer comes?’

  ‘You are still heir to the throne, my lord.’

  ‘I was that a month ago.’

  The snow was seeping into my silken slippers. I moved my feet back and forth under my dress to stop them freezing. I tried not to stare enviously at his boots. ‘And you are still the heir, my lord. May I speak frankly?’

  ‘What frankness can you offer me?’ He looked at me as if I were a performing bear. ‘Do you have honeyed phrases to woo me back to that farce they call a wedding feast? A thrifty man, my stepfather, the funeral leftovers furnishing his bridal banquet.’

  ‘I would rather leave honey for the bees, my lord. I prefer to taste what is, rather than wasting sweetness to disguise bad butter.’

  ‘Well, I have reason to be bitter. And I have no wish for honey. Speak, if you must.’

  The sun dropped below the wall. Shadows claimed the garden now. Day’s brief reign had ended.

  I stepped towards him, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. ‘My lord, they know you not. True, you have no friend at court, but no enemies either. Nor is the new king well-
loved. Let the court come to know you, sir. A few months as the new king’s heir, a few years perhaps, then the court will say, “Look, the old king dodders.” They will remember he is no true king. They will see you — young, handsome, vigorous, the man to lead them.’

  The anger had left his face. He looked almost amused. ‘You promised me no honey.’

  I looked at him steadily, or as steadily as I could with frozen feet and a nose about to turn to ice. ‘Nor do I give you any, my lord.’

  He said suddenly, ‘You are cold.’

  Is that the genius they teach you in Wittenberg, I thought, that a girl in silk in a snowdrift might be cold? ‘Yes, my lord.’

  I hoped we would go indoors. We could talk by the fire in the great hall.

  ‘Here.’ He swept off his cloak and placed it around my shoulders. He was close enough that I could smell his breath: peppermint and musk. His hands felt warm. The cloak was warm from his body too; thick black leather and fur-lined, so long it trailed on the ground. He looked down at my sodden slippers, then scooped me up and placed me on a wooden bench, kicking off the snow in one swift movement.

  Instinctively I curled my feet up under the cloak. He grinned and wrapped the cloak around me as if I were a baby. He looked quite different when he grinned.

  ‘Are all the ladies of the court like you?’

  ‘No, my lord,’ I said honestly. ‘But I try to appear like them.’

  ‘If I had known there was one like you here, I would not have stayed so long at Wittenberg.’

  He was flirting. I answered seriously, ignoring his sudden playfulness. ‘No, my lord. You shouldn’t have stayed away so long. Especially now, with young Fortinbras on the border.’

  Even my brother had come home from Paris for the country’s crisis. But not Prince Hamlet.

  ‘Fortinbras? What about him?’

  ‘He has an army, and marches at our borders. You did not know?’

  ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘My mother’s letters never mentioned him.’

  ‘Perhaps Her Majesty did not want to worry you and disturb your studies.’

  We exchanged a quick glance.

  ‘Or perhaps,’ he said, ‘she did not want me to worry and come home.’

  He pushed the fur of his cloak closer to my cheek. His hand touched my skin, soft as a butterfly. He looked at me, eyes serious. ‘What else should I know about my kingdom?’

  ‘In truth, sir, there is little that should worry you.’

  ‘Beyond an invasion? Or my mother marrying my uncle? Or my kingdom being stolen by my uncle?’

  ‘It is still your kingdom, my lord, if you will stay to take it. And Fortinbras? Even if he invades, each lord has an army to bring to battle, and they will. They may not love your uncle, but neither do they want a stranger ruling over them.’

  ‘I … see.’

  I saw that he did.

  ‘As to the rest,’ I continued, ‘the land is quiet and well-ordered. The summer harvests were good, and the stockfish was laid in plenty for the winter. The barley granaries are full. The palace has a full twenty-five tons of salted butter, nearly two tons of new cheese and thirty-two of old —’

  ‘Hold.’ He looked amused. ‘Who is this, with a face like summer’s roses and all the wisdom of a chancellor?’

  ‘The lord chancellor’s daughter, sir. Who listens. And reads.’

  ‘A woman who reads. A miracle indeed. And who listens too. Then you are Ophelia.’

  ‘I am, my lord.’ I smiled at him over the fur of his cloak. ‘You last saw me up an apple tree.’

  ‘I have never climbed an apple tree.’

  ‘No, my lord. But I did.’

  He laughed. The gloom had vanished. Even the low afternoon sun had rolled out from below a cloud and now tinged the snow with gold. ‘I remember you now. Eating apples.’

  Actually the apples had been too green to eat; I’d planned to throw them at my nurse when she discovered me. I would have pelted him too, if he hadn’t been a prince.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. One does not argue with a prince.

  His smile faded. He looked at me steadily. ‘Well, Ophelia of the wheat-gold hair, will you be my guide to Elsinore? Help me to win the court to my cause?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ I meant it too. Not because he was the prince who might one day be king, but because I had never spoken to a young man like this. I had never spoken so openly to anyone before, except a ghost, if he had been real, and not a dream.

  ‘An army of two,’ he said. He lifted my hand and kissed it, his lips upon my skin. I shivered and saw him smile; Prince Hamlet had kissed women before. ‘Will you help me because my cause is just?’

  He would be able to tell if I lied. I knew that I didn’t do it well.

  I said softly, ‘Your cause is just, my lord. But I think I would help you even if it weren’t.’

  ‘Why? For love of me?’

  He spoke lightly, but he meant it too. I loved him then. Not because he was a prince, whose position I had loved long before I saw the man. I loved him for his loneliness. All my life at the court, I had never seen anyone as alone as he was. He seemed as fragile as an icicle that could be burned away by the sun. I loved him because he needed me, not as a decoration for his table, not to keep the linen mended, but for everything I truly was.

  I said quietly, ‘Yes, my lord. For love of you.’ My blush burned my ears.

  He knew I didn’t lie. I thought he might laugh, but he just nodded. He looked almost as shocked as I.

  ‘I thought to have a kingdom by this day’s night,’ he said. ‘It seems I have a kingdom of the heart, not of the land.’

  He bent and kissed me lightly on the lips. He tasted of snow. His kiss lingered long after his lips had gone. When he spoke again, his voice was light, but I could tell he was serious. His gloom had vanished and there was an edge of laughter in his voice.

  ‘Well, wise counsellor, what do I do now?’

  ‘You wait upon your mother, when she goes to her room to change after the feast. I will fetch you,’ I added quickly. ‘So you may see her before your uncle comes to her.’

  ‘To tell her that I approve of her marriage to my father’s brother? Frailty, thy name is woman! By my life, I cannot.’

  ‘No, sir. Nor would your mother believe it. But tell her you will accept it — for her sake, and the country’s.’

  And because you have no choice, I thought.

  He hesitated, half amused at my presumption, but wholly serious as he listened to my words. At last he nodded. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Sir, your nose is turning blue.’

  He smiled again. ‘Can you still love a man with a blue nose?’

  ‘I could love a man with a violet for a nose. But I’d rather that you kept your own.’

  He laughed. I felt a thrill run through me, that I had turned his sadness into joy. His moods changed as suddenly as cream turning into butter.

  ‘Inside then,’ he said. I scrambled down. It was time we left. Darkness had shrouded his face. The last of the thin winter sun had left the air. He offered me his arm. ‘I will walk you to your father’s house, Lady Ophelia. You need to change from those damp clothes.’ He saw my look, and laughed. ‘No more than to your door, I promise.’ He lifted my hand again. ‘There will be time enough for more. Just say once again that you can love me.’

  ‘Yes, my lord, I tell you truly that I do.’

  Nor did I lie. Would I have loved him had he been a woodcutter’s son, or even the lord of the exchequer’s? I thrust the question from my mind.

  Chapter 5

  Prince Hamlet left me at our front door, as he’d promised, two servants with flaming torches to light our way. It seemed he did not know about the small door that connected our house and the palace. Or perhaps he wanted the people to see that he escorted me: prince and lord chancellor’s daughter together. That is what I would have chosen if I were him. But if I were him, I would not have spent so many years away.

  A kingdom needs
tending, just like a cheese. Leave a cheese too long and the whey settles to the bottom and sours the whole. Leave a kingdom for too long and others rise to the top and take the whole. I hoped Prince Hamlet was beginning to think like a ruler now, and not the student he had been.

  Gerda clucked at me, and changed my stockings and petticoat and slippers. My overdress was damp, but it would do. I slipped along the torchlit passageways and back to the banquet hall. The queen raised her eyebrows as I sat back in my place. I nodded slightly to show her all was well.

  The prince’s attendants were well into the wine now, slicing cheese and eating pickled herring as well as olives and candied chestnuts sent from France. All the court were eating and laughing. Too determinedly laughing to show their new king that no treason was being plotted.

  The banquet ended early; perhaps because neither bride nor groom was young and wished to dance away the night. More likely, they, like all the court, wanted to find out what Prince Hamlet was doing. Sending messages to any lords not here at court to ask for their support? Stripping the treasury of jewels to pay an army? I was sure the man I had met in the garden would do neither. Probably he had been away from court too long for either even to occur to him. But the palace would be a hive of bees tonight, buzzing with gossip.

  I waited till Lady Hilda and Lady Anna had removed the queen’s headdress, and Lady Annika was dozing as she warmed the queen’s shift before the fire, then kneeled before her.

  ‘Madam, there is one who would speak with you.’

  Her eyes met mine. She knew this game exactly.

  ‘May I have leave to fetch him, Your Majesty?’

  She gave me her hand to kiss. ‘You may.’

  I heard silence as thick as clotted cream behind me as the maids opened the door. Two of them accompanied me, walking behind except to open the doors that blocked the winter draughts. Earlier, those doors had been left open to let the royal procession pass without waiting. The prince’s rooms were one floor up, towards the main tower; the same rooms he’d had since childhood. A footman joined us along the way. One of the mysterious charms of the palace was the way servants appeared just as you needed them, though I knew the magic was in training a good servant in the art of watching. And what not to see while watching.