“True, comedy does not thrive when tyrants hold sway,” Beth agreed. That was true in her day, too. She remembered reading about regimes that banned comedians. “But perhaps your mockery could move those who follow him to understand that his overpowering ambition is only folly and will lead them down the path to destruction.”
“It seems to me that you have wit enough yourself to pursue that course if you choose,” Feste said. “Perhaps greatness has been thrust upon you.”
“I hope not.” Beth shuddered. Was she crazy to try to challenge Richard? What difference did all these characters make? They weren’t real people after all. So what if their endings were changed?
In the sound of the rain, she heard weeping, coming from a distant land.
“I must go where the wind blows,” she said, though she had no idea why she said it.
She flew through the rain. It drenched her and the wind blew her off course. She wondered whether Peter Pan flew only when the weather was clear.
Beth landed in the Midsummer World. Even there, rain poured down from a gray sky and turned the earth to mud. It beat down flowers and silenced birds. Despite the wet reception, she was glad to be there. She hoped to see Bottom the player and wondered what lines he was mangling now. After Richard III had killed Mercutio, he had threatened Bottom in order to persuade Beth to summon Shakespeare. Sita had imitated Queen Titania’s delicate voice perfectly and ordered Bottom away from Richard’s world and back to his own.
Beth’s green velvet Mercutio attire was soaked through and clung to her. She pulled out her sword and tried to wipe it so it would not rust, but she lacked a dry cloth for the task.
The weeping increased. She saw Moth, Peaseblossom, Cobweb, and Mustardseed sobbing. Their hair and fairy garb oozed water. Their wings sagged.
A young creature of indeterminate sex sat in a tree and pouted. Beth guessed that he must be Puck. “Up and down,” he grumbled. “Why should I want to lead anyone up and down in this nasty storm?”
“Welcome, Beth! You have come at last!” Titania’s sweet voice chimed. Even though she was as damp as the others, the fairy queen retained her dignity.
“You can see who I am?” Beth asked.
“Merlin’s magic is powerful, but I would know you in any guise, dear Beth.” Titania touched Beth’s hand, and the touch was like magic. Beth was still just as wet, but she didn’t feel drenched anymore.
Rivulets of water covered the path on which they stood, and a nearby lake flooded over its banks.
“Can’t you stop this flood?” Beth asked. The sight of this beloved world in such disarray broke Beth’s heart.
“If it grieves you, I can stop it for a moment.” Titania waved her hand. The rain ceased. The rivulets ran into the lake and the lake retreated to its boundaries. Beth’s clothes dried. The fairies were no longer wet and looked as if they were ready to attend some magical dance.
“The rain is this world’s expression of grief,” Titania told Beth. “We are sad because one of our own has disappeared. Bottom is gone.” Her voice echoed, “Gone, gone, gone.”
Beth gasped. Bottom was one of her favorite characters. “But how do you know? You and he weren’t able to see each other after the play ended.”
Titania bowed her head. “I can feel that he is gone. He is not dead, but I don’t know where he has strayed or what world has taken him. The Midsummer World is Bottomless. And so our grief is bottomless.”
“Bottom is gone,” the fairies sobbed.
“Without him, our play is ruined,” Titania said. “There would be nothing but the two sets of lovers lost in the woods. Or would I awaken and fall in love with someone or something worse than Nick Bottom?”
“No!” Beth exclaimed. “The world needs Bottom. My world as well as yours.”
There is no laughter in such a world, she thought. No mistakes. Everyone’s speech is precise. Everyone does the right thing at the right moment.
The fairies’ glade is dull without Bottom, Beth thought. Yes, there’s still a Puck, but there’s no one for him to ridicule. There is only uniform prettiness with no ass for contrast. Just an endless world of nectar. Dancing under the moon with no dancers stumbling.
Was Bottom’s disappearance a punishment for her from Richard? Was it her fault? What could she do about it? Beth’s heart raced.
Chapter 5
BETH CAME BACK TO her old self. She wore her flowered tunic over tights and sat in the classroom. But Kevin had entered the room and was staring at her. He was not the person she most wanted to see at the moment, but she was so distressed that she couldn’t pretend to be calm.
“You weren’t here, and then you were,” Kevin said, sounding as if he were accusing her of a crime. “Am I crazy, or are you?”
“Bottom is gone,” Beth wailed. “I must find Bottom.”
“What are you talking about?” Kevin asked.
“The character Bottom is missing from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The play needs him. I need him, and I will find him.” She struck her fist on her other hand for emphasis. “There is no Midsummer Night’s Dream without Bottom. Without Bottom, there is no dream.”
“You’re crazy.” Kevin stepped away from her. “How could Bottom disappear from the play? And he’s just one character.”
“He’s a vital character. He’s the central character. He’s the one who puts us in the dream. I must find him.”
Disregarding whether her disappearance would shock Kevin, Beth vanished.
Where should she go first to find Bottom?
She let her mind leap, and her body thudded into Macbeth’s castle. Hitting the flagstones hurt her feet. She stood in a dark room lit by only one candle on a table.
“Dear Beth, what an unexpected pleasure to see you,” said Lady Macbeth, drying her hands. “It is the middle of the night. The owl calls. I do not remember what I was doing.”
Beth thought it was best not to remind the queen why she had been scrubbing her hands.
The owl’s mournful sound filled the night air.
“Bottom is gone,” Beth shrieked.
“What do you mean, dear? The clown from the midsummer play?” Lady Macbeth listened like a therapist, as if the disappearance was a product of Beth’s imagination. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Don’t you understand?” Beth gasped, though it was evident that the queen did not. “Bottom’s disappearance is serious. Richard must be responsible.”
The queen winced at Richard’s name. “I should think there are enough asses as it is, dear. Why should you wish for more?”
“I need to laugh.” Beth suppressed tears. “I can’t survive without laughter. Most people can’t.”
“Aren’t there enough clowns and fools in the other plays?” the lady asked. “Bottom isn’t strictly speaking a fool. That is, he is not a discerning fool, but is merely foolish.”
“Of course there are fools in the plays, but most of them are too clever.” Beth strained to explain. “Bottom is different. He reminds me of myself. I love how he wants to play every part.”
“Do you wish to laugh at yourself?” Lady Macbeth asked, uncomprehending.
“Yes.” Of course Lady Macbeth wouldn’t see herself as funny. Not ever. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. But I thought you might have some idea where I could find him.”
“I do not suppose you would want me to torture his fellow players to learn whether they know anything?”
“No!” Beth shouted, then remembered her manners, and said more quietly, “No.”
“I thought not. There’s no need to shout, my dear.” The lady’s voice was soft, unlike her character. “If you want to find a person, I suppose you should look in his favorite haunts, and I doubt that my husband’s castle is among them.”
“A stage!” Beth exclaimed. “Stages are his favorite haunts. Thank you.”
She wished herself at the Globe. Unfortunately, she landed in surging, muddy water and struggled to keep her head above it.
The water smelled so rank that it must be the Thames. Beth tried to yell for help, but she swallowed some vile water, tried to spit it out, and choked. The current pulled her under.
She held her mouth closed, kicked her legs, and tried to swim to the surface. When her head was clear, she called “help,” but then she was pulled under again.
She swam away from the bloated body of a rat.
She kicked harder. When her head next managed to get above the surface, she saw that the current was carrying her to London Bridge, where she was likely to drown or be smashed against the pillars. In Renaissance London, she could be hurt. Maybe she could even die.
She tried another call for help, and spat out more stinking water. She couldn’t speak, but she tried a silent call. “Merlin! Merlin!”
If Merlin heard her, he probably would help her escape.
She surfaced again and saw that a barge was just about to collide with her and knock her unconscious.
She tried to swim away from it. But a pair of arms reached out of the barge and grabbed for her.
Whoever it was, being with him on the barge must be better than drowning in the Thames. She kicked closer, reached the arms, and was pulled aboard.
She vomited so copiously that she was conscious of nothing but her own barfing.
“That is disgusting, and you smell like a sewer, but I’m glad that I came in time.” Adam Greenwood, a twentyish actor she knew in both worlds, handed her a cloth to wipe her mouth.
Beth wiped her mouth, then was sick again.
She lay down, unable to move. She was too sick to be properly glad to see Adam. Memories of him drifted through her mind. Meeting him when they had acted in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He had been nice about her inadvertently turning his ears to donkey’s ears. Seeing Adam playing Bottom on the Globe in Shakespeare’s time. Merlin had sent him to London to help protect her. When Mercutio met Adam, he had become jealous and claimed that he was her only protector. Maybe that was why Adam hadn’t grieved over Mercutio’s death, at least not enough to satisfy Beth. Adam cared more about acting than about anything else, she thought.
Beth felt the boat lurch into the rapids under London Bridge. Fear wiped every thought out of her mind.
The boat shot through the arches of the bridge. Water rushed over the sides, but the boat did not capsize. Whoever was steering was competent, Beth thought with relief.
Someone splashed a bucket of water over her. She spluttered.
“I think you need to clean up. I don’t want to get anywhere near you.” Adam moved as away from her as he could. “Perhaps you could go back home and reappear some other time.”
Going home and landing in her bathtub was her fondest wish, but the wish wasn’t granted. She still lay in the boat. She opened her eyes, and saw Adam standing as far away from her as was possible, at the other end of the barge.
“Thank you.” She shook herself off like a dog.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, moving a little closer. He was drying his arms with a cloth that looked too fine for the purpose.
“I’m looking for Bottom.”
“You almost found the bottom of the river. Did you want me to let you drown?”
“Not that bottom. Bottom, the mechanical. The player from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Her sides ached. She didn’t feel like talking.
“After playing him more than once, I feel a certain kinship to him. I hope he isn’t in this river.”
Without coming too close, Adam extended a wine flask to her. “I got the idea of carrying a wine flask from Mercutio. A great idea.”
Beth took the flask and swallowed some wine. It wasn’t too bad. She could get used to that. Especially compared with the Thames water. But she knew she wouldn’t drink it at home, where she could have soft drinks with caffeine instead.
“I wished to be at the Globe, but I fell short.”
“Very short. Even in the odiferous company of its patrons, you would probably be unwelcome.”
“Who am I?” Beth asked, looking at her clothes. She was wearing the clothing of Ben, the rich merchant’s son, the disguise Merlin had given her for time traveling before he had turned her into Mercutio. She sighed with relief. Being Mercutio was a strain. She was glad to be Ben in Renaissance London. And with a disguised female body, not a mostly male body.
“Do you really want to ask existential questions now?” Adam shook his head. Now Beth could detect his Old Spice shaving lotion, but it was much fainter than her own odor.
“They are very real questions to me.” Beth grumbled. She wished that Queen Titania’s power to dry her off extended to the Thames. “As you ought to know. I can see that I am now Ben. But did you know that Merlin changed me into Mercutio in the worlds of Shakespeare’s characters to try to bring him back to life?”
“How would your masquerading as Mercutio accomplish that?”
“I’ll have to die as Mercutio to bring him back,” she told Adam as calmly as she could, but her voice quavered.
“You want to die for him? You’re crazy.” Adam put his hand to his head.
“But he died trying to save me.”
“That’s different.” His voice was harsher than it had ever been in her hearing. “He’s a character. You’re a person.”
“So I guess I’d die as a character, not as a person.”
“Are you sure?” Adam shook his head.
“Not entirely.” Beth tried to make her voice calm.
“That’s completely insane. Liking someone, having a crush on him, even loving him, doesn’t mean you have to risk your life for him.” Adam offered her the flask again.
“It does for me. I guess. No more wine. I’ve had enough.” She wished for a well-caffeinated soda.
“You sure have had enough Thames water.”
“But now I’m looking for Bottom. He’s gone missing. I suppose you’ll think that’s crazy, too.”
“Not at all. I like Bottom. I enjoy playing him. But how can we find him if he’s missing? Has he just wandered off somewhere? Maybe Puck has changed him into some other creature.”
“No, for once Puck is innocent.”
“Wrong word.”
“OK.” Beth almost smiled. “Didn’t do it. I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid that Richard III’s to blame.”
“But he’s dead. We saw Lady Macbeth kill him. If Mercutio’s dead, so’s he.”
Beth shook her head. “If only you were right. But no, Richard’s back again. I’ve seen him. He’s worse than ever.”
“Maybe he’s not so bad if you don’t get in his way,” Adam said, looking over his shoulder. “I hope the man who’s piloting this boat doesn’t hear this crazy conversation. I worked for Richard once and he was a good employer. Fair pay, all the time off I wanted.”
“You were just a lowly guard. You’ve seen how many people he kills.”
“Not people,” Adam corrected her. “Just characters. We don’t qualify, and I’m glad of that. Remember that Richard saved us from Marlowe’s Tamburlaine.”
“After watching him kill Mercutio, you can still think of that?” Beth gave him a disgusted look. “Can’t you think of anything but your own skin?”
“Wrong. I also think about my acting.”
Beth shook her head. “Even if you don’t care about the characters, don’t you care about Shakespeare’s plays? Richard is gathering together a group of the fiercest characters to try to change the endings of all the plays.”
“He couldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t,” Adam admitted. “But I do know that you’re going to try to stop him. And you think Bottom’s disappearance is connected to Richard’s
plot.”
“Right.”
“But how do you know that it’s not a setup? Richard knows you’re fond of Bottom. So he might be fooling you into looking for Bottom instead of trying to fight against his plot to change the plays.”
“You may be right.” Her job felt impossible.
The boat landed at a dock. The boatman approached them, and Adam paid him.
“That’ll be extra for cleaning,” the man said, looking with disgust at the pool of vomit.
Adam gave him an extra penny. Then he climbed out of the boat and helped Beth out. She would have preferred to climb out on her own, but her legs were still wobbly. She saw that the boat had landed far from the Globe and wished they were nearer.
“You’re trying to save Shakespeare’s characters one by one, but that might not be the best strategy.”
Beth paused and thought. “Thank you. You’re making a good point. But what is the best strategy? Should I just keep on doing what I’ve been doing, going to all the plays as Mercutio and trying to enlist the characters, or at least to persuade them not to work with Richard?”
“If your efforts are threatening him so much that he’d disappear Bottom, then yes, I think you need to continue.”
“And is Bottom expendable?”
“Come on, Beth. I’m not saying that. I think the way to help Bottom is to defeat King Richard.” Adam hit his head. “What am I saying? Do I have any ambition to try to defeat one of the greatest villains in literature? I’m just an actor, not a fighter.”
“But you will help me?”
“Sure. I’m working at the Globe now. I’m the soothsayer who tries to warn Julius Caesar about the plot to kill him. Do you want me to warn Shakespeare?”
“Maybe not yet. I’ll think about it.”
Adam sighed with relief. “Good. I’d rather not. I don’t want to alienate him. I have to live in this world, after all, and you don’t. I still don’t know whether this is the world I was born in.”
The Mercutio Problem Page 6
