The Mercutio Problem

by Carol Anne Douglas

  Sita finally spoke. “What were the circumstances when Lear killed the Duke?”

  Beth stared into her shake. She didn’t want to answer that question, but of course it was necessary. “Lear had attacked me. I tried not to fight back, but I had to. I had dropped Mercutio’s sword and fallen, and the Duke intervened to save me. Lear killed him and ran off.” She fought back tears. “I didn’t want anyone to die for me.”

  Her friends all exclaimed at once.

  “You should take me with you! I’d fight for you,” Kevin contributed.

  Arnie frowned at Kevin. “That’s all she needs for a perfect storm.” He turned to Beth. “Richard didn’t know that anyone would save you. You’re the one he’s trying to intimidate.”

  Sita shook her head. “No, he knows how hard it is to intimidate you. He’s trying to force you to get killed as soon as possible. He’s more afraid of you acting as Mercutio than he is of Mercutio himself. You need to keep fighting back.”

  “And let Mercutio stay dead longer?” Beth bristled. “Maybe I should die and get it over with.”

  “Please don’t talk like that.” Arnie put a hand on her arm. “I don’t like this whole mission. I don’t want you to die for Mercutio. Who knows what it would do to you in real life? Dying’s an experience that could change you forever, even if you do it in another body and return to yours. Assuming you can come back. Do you know whether any other human has died as a character to save a character? At least ask Merlin that question.”

  A white-bearded man in a sports coat and British walking cap came to their table and drew up a chair.

  Beth almost fell out of her chair. Merlin had never appeared to her friends before.

  The wizard sat there silent, for effect, while the others realized who he was.

  “This is a private conversation,” Kevin said.

  Arnie stared at Merlin. “I think he has an interest in it,” Arnie said.

  “How kind of you to join us,” Sita said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “You’re ruining your teeth with those sugary drinks,” Merlin declaimed, frowning at all of them.

  “What business is it . . . ?” Kevin began.

  “Be calm,” Beth said. She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t let the whole restaurant know you’re amazed. This is Merlin. Remember, act calm. Pretend that he’s one of our teachers.”

  “So how are you going to help Beth?” Sita asked the wizard.

  “Your friends are unmannerly, but no worse than I expected,” Merlin told Beth. “I came to answer Arnie’s question. Yes, in fact a human being did come and die as King Arthur so that King Arthur could go to the Blessed Isles and sleep instead of dying.”

  Kevin’s mouth hung open.

  “Thank you for your response, sir.” Arnie inclined his head. His voice was as courteous as if he were Sir Galahad. “But going off to centuries of sleep is not the same as living. I believe Beth is trying to bring Mercutio back to life. And my next question is, what happened to the human being who sacrificed his life for King Arthur?”

  “He lived,” Merlin said, picking up Beth’s milkshake, frowning at it, and putting it down again. “He is known today as Sir Thomas Malory.”

  Of course, Beth thought. The man who wrote perhaps the most famous book about the life and death of King Arthur.

  “That’s a pretty fable,” Sita said, “but there’s absolutely no reason why we should believe it.” She put a spoon into her soda, pulled out a bit of ice cream, and ate it. No one else had paid attention to their food since Merlin had sat with them.

  “Beth, you should not share these secrets with your friends,” Merlin chided her. “You used to be discreet.”

  Beth ignored his scolding. “I suppose you know that Richard has had both Rosalind’s father and Cassius killed. I’m worried about Mercutio. I’m worried about Bottom. And I’m getting worried about myself. Just missing death by a sword is a bit intimidating.”

  Merlin shrugged. “I have told you that you would not die. Not as Beth Owens. I do not know what you would experience dying as Mercutio. It doesn’t matter what Richard does to the other characters. They’ll all be resurrected sooner or later. What does matter is what he does to the plays. Worry less about Mercutio and Bottom and more about the plays.”

  With that, the wizard tossed down some money to pay their bills, rose, and walked about of the deli.

  “How nice,” Sita said. “He treated you to a chocolate milkshake in exchange for dying in another world.”

  “That was really him?” Kevin asked. The power of speech had returned to him.

  “That was really he.” Arnie always used proper grammar.

  “Why are you so antagonistic to him?” Beth asked Sita. “Are you still angry that he didn’t choose you instead of me?”

  “Of course I’m angry that he didn’t choose us both.” Sita ate more ice cream.

  “What he said changes nothing,” Arnie said. His brows furrowed. “I still think what you’re doing is too dangerous, Beth.”

  “He’s right,” Kevin chimed in. “You shouldn’t do it.”

  “You’re wasting your breath,” Sita said. “She will.”

  Beth drained her milkshake. “It’s my choice. I choose Mercutio. And Bottom. And Shakespeare.”

  “That’s an excellent speech.” Arnie’s voice rose, which it seldom did. He glanced around the restaurant and lowered his voice. “But Shakespeare’s work has endured all these years without your help, and I believe it can continue.”

  “I hope so.” Beth wished they understood the pressures on her. “I don’t want to be conceited. But I have to believe Merlin and try to do my part. I’d appreciate whatever help you have to give.” She changed to a brisk tone. “Kevin, has Richard tried to communicate with you lately?”

  He shook his head. “No. I guess he was just using me for the reading of that play.”

  “Don’t count on it.” Sita finished her shake. “Let us know when he reaches out and touches you again. Come on, Beth. Let’s walk home. We’ve had enough excitement for this afternoon.”

  Beth hoped that was true. She didn’t know what excitement was waiting for her in the other world. She rose and left with Sita.

  “Where should I return when I travel?” she asked Sita as they stepped over a slush-filled curb and crossed the street. She watched out for black ice. Stepping on it could cause a nasty fall.

  “Richard doesn’t want you to go to the Forest of Arden, so perhaps you should go there.” Sita rolled her eyes. “Or maybe he does want you to go there and is just pretending he doesn’t.”

  Beth groaned.

  “Wait up, please.”

  They turned. Arnie ran across the street. “You should find out where Mercutio is. He has to be somewhere, even if he’s unconscious.”

  “Beth isn’t a missing persons bureau.” Sita frowned at him. “Doesn’t she have enough to do?”

  “Arnie’s right.” Beth avoided a patch of ice. “I do want to find him.”

  Chapter 16

  BETH HURRIED TO THE auditorium for the drama club’s second practice of Twelfth Night on the stage, and their first of several dress rehearsals. She adjusted her costume. The breeches were tighter than she liked, but they were the appropriate style. Her doublet held in her breasts.

  She thought Sita’s breeches and doublet looked better on her. Sita always looked impossibly stylish. Her new haircut was perfect for Feste.

  Arnie’s doublet needed pressing and his hair needed combing, but his tone was just right for Count Orsino.

  As Cesario/Viola, she asked him how he would feel if he knew another woman loved him as he loved Olivia.

  “Make no compare between that love a woman can bear me and that I bear Olivia,” he said. He waved his hand dismissively.

  “Aye, but I know . . . ” she said. Sh
e strove to look at him with love, but not too obviously.

  “What dost thou know?”

  Viola had to turn her face so he wouldn’t see the love she attempted to hide. “Too well what love women to men may owe.” She strove to keep her voice sounding slightly masculine. “In faith, they are as true of heart as we.” He wasn’t Arnie. He was the man she loved.

  Orsino had the last line in the scene as he bade her go to Olivia again. “My love can give no place, bide no denay.”

  Arnie exited stage left. Beth walked to the back of the stage. A light plunged from the ceiling and crashed just two feet away from her. She jumped. “What!” she cried out.

  She tried not to collapse. She could hardly believe what had happened.

  Ms. Capulet leapt onto the stage and ran to her. She took hold of Beth’s arm to steady her.

  Arnie rushed in and grabbed her other arm. He was shaking as much as she was.

  Kevin also ran onto the stage. “Beth? Are you okay?” His face was white as chalk.

  “Were you working the lights?” Ms. Capulet demanded.

  Kevin nodded. “Something slipped.”

  “It certainly did.” The teacher glared at him. “I want to have some words with you.”

  Sita dashed over and thrust her face close to Kevin’s. Her voice was low, but Beth could hear her. “Was that deliberate, or is Richard acting through you without your knowing it?”

  Kevin’s face reddened. “Deliberate? Are you crazy? I’d never hurt Beth.”

  “Come aside, all three of you.” Ms. Capulet’s voice was strained, and there was little of mercy in it. “Stay here, Arnie.”

  Arnie squeezed Beth’s hand, then let go.

  Ms. Capulet led the others to her office.

  Beth fell into a chair. Her breath still came out in audible gasps.

  As soon as the teacher had closed the door, Kevin said, “I didn’t do anything. It was an accident. The light was loose.”

  “I checked the lights early this morning.” Ms. Capulet’s voice was as grim as Hamlet’s father’s. “Nothing was loose.”

  “I didn’t do anything.” Kevin’s voice rose. “Don’t blame me. I like Beth. We’ve been friends since first grade.”

  He looked so miserable that Beth felt sorry for him. “I know you’re my friend. I don’t blame you,” she said.

  “I do,” Sita said. Her voice was cold and hard as a weapon.

  “Let me handle this,” the teacher told them. “Kevin, I’m certain that the so-called accident was Richard’s doing. Why were you working the lights anyway? That’s not your job.”

  “The guys who are supposed to do them didn’t show up. So I thought I should try. The idea just came to me. I want to learn everything about the theater, so I should try to work the lights.”

  Sita snorted.

  “So how did you feel when the idea came to you?” Ms. Capulet asked. “Was there anything different from how you had felt when you walked into the auditorium?”

  “I felt a surge of power. Like I could learn anything I wanted, be anyone I wanted to be.” Kevin’s eyes widened. “That felt great. Was it wrong?”

  The teacher groaned. She looked him in the eye. “Normally, that feeling would be good. But it sounds as if Richard sent you that feeling.”

  Kevin rubbed his eyes. “Great. Now if I’m feeling good, I’m supposed to worry that Richard is using me?”

  “Possibly. Especially if you are doing something anywhere near Beth.” Ms. Capulet’s voice lowered. “It’s frightening that Richard is able to use a person in this world. You have to examine everything you do.”

  “Do I need an exorcist or something?” Kevin trembled.

  “No.” The teacher touched his shoulder. “Once Beth has defeated Richard in the other world, you’ll be fine. All we need to do is help Beth.”

  “So now Kevin’s my responsibility?” Beth exclaimed. The weight of all her responsibilities sat like a rock on her shoulders. “I have to save Kevin from trying to hurt me?” She let loose a long, loud, “ARRRGH!”

  “Or Kevin could be locked up for his own good,” Sita said, putting her arm around Beth.

  “Thanks a lot.” Kevin scowled at Sita.

  “No one’s going to lock you up,” Ms. Capulet said. “But you must be very aware of everything you think and do. All of you.” Her look included Sita. “Remember who the real enemy is.” She turned to Beth. “Are you able to rehearse now?”

  Beth nodded. “I’m all right. The show must go on.”

  They returned to the auditorium. Sita sang “the rain, it raineth every day” the whole way.

  The other kids were waiting for them.

  Amelia rushed to Beth. “I heard the light almost fell on you. Are you all right?”

  “I was just a little bit unnerved. I’m okay now,” Beth said.

  “Hey, Belcher,” Arnie said, poking Kevin in the arm. But Arnie’s gaze was fixed on Beth.

  “The noble Sir Toby probably has a hangover,” Frank said. “Let’s get on with the show.”

  AFTER THE REHEARSAL, BETH went to the drama classroom. She wanted a few minutes alone. She sat in her usual chair and gazed at the poster of Shakespeare on the wall.

  “I’m trying to do my best for you,” she said.

  She spun, and landed in a forest. Sunlight streamed through the trees. Little white butterflies played in the sunbeams. A red squirrel with pointed ears dashed from one tree to another.

  Beth thought it was the Forest of Arden, but she wasn’t sure. “Bottom!” she called out. “Bottom, are you there? Bottom?”

  Two young women strolled into the clearing. One of them was Rosalind.

  Beth wanted to hide her face. She wondered whether Rosalind knew what had happened to her father.

  “My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal,” Rosalind said.

  “Or rather bottomless, so that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out,” said the other girl, who was undoubtedly Rosalind’s cousin Celia.

  “Love is bottomless,” Beth said, bowing, remembering that she was Mercutio. “Though bottoms have something to do with it. But I must not be crude, sweet ladies. For, pardon me, I do see that you are so beautiful that you must be ladies. Nor do I have leisure to speak of love. For our world is indeed Bottomless. Nick Bottom the weaver is missing and the Midsummer world grieves for him. I have come to search for him because he might find this forest congenial.”

  “We have not seen him, but you should ask our good fool,” Celia said.

  “This forest is not congenial.” Rosalind’s voice was hollow. “Some wretch killed my dear father, who was so brave in exile.”

  Beth noticed that Rosalind’s eyes were red. “Whoever did that foul deed, I am sure King Richard instigated it,” Beth said.

  “I know that well.” Rosalind sighed. “My heart is weary, but I shall work against evil. I would like to know who struck the blow on behalf of that vile king.”

  “Be leery of Lear,” Beth said, and hurried away in search of Touchstone.

  She came upon a man in motley. He sat on a log with his arm around Audrey.

  Beth bowed. “Good day, lady fair. May I ask whether this gentleman is the noble Touchstone?”

  Audrey gave Beth a suggestive look, but put her finger to her lips.

  “I am Touchstone,” the fool said. “In the forest I touch stones a-plenty. In the court I touched pearls and velvet, but here I touch bark and clods of earth. Here no one covets my stones and bark, so I am happy, or so I say.”

  “I am seeking Bottom the weaver. Have you seen him?”

  “I have seen the bottom of stones, with grubs attached. I have seen the bottom of trees, with more grubs. I have seen the bottom of streams, with little fish. And I may have seen other bottoms.” Touchstone pinched Audrey, and she g
iggled. “But I have not seen the bottom of a weaver.”

  “Excellent jests, but Nick Bottom is missing from the Midsummer world, and the rain it raineth every day there,” Beth said. “I am certain that Richard III has kidnapped him and hidden him in another play. I thought it might be this one.”

  At the mention of Richard, Touchstone jumped up and pulled Audrey with him. “I have nothing to do with courts, and especially that king’s court. If other courts might be full of toadies and braggarts, his is filled with murder.”

  Touchstone hurried Audrey away, but as they disappeared among the trees, Audrey turned and blew a kiss to the one she believed was Mercutio.

  Beth returned Audrey’s air kiss. No luck. She had been foolish to hope that Richard had hidden Bottom in a congenial world. The poor player was probably in some world where he was lost indeed.

  Beth returned to her classroom. She watched the poster of Shakespeare, but of course it didn’t move.

  Beth tumbled through fog to the banks of the ghost Thames. Fog surrounded her so deeply that she felt as if she were dead already. There was nothing but gray.

  She shivered and started walking to try to warm herself, but her steps moved slower and slower. Her legs felt paralyzed.

  An icy hand touched her shoulder.

  Beth screamed. She was immediately embarrassed because she didn’t approve of girls screaming at every little thing, but this was too much.

  A hollow laugh sounded behind her. “Girls do not usually scream at my touch, except with delight.”

  She spun around.

  Marlowe’s ghost stood before her. His shoulder-length hair was trimmed, as well as his mustache and thin beard. He would have been handsome except for the blood dripping from the eye that dangled from his gory eye-socket.

  “Has Richard III approached you?” she asked.

  “What a civil greeting. No preamble, no niceties. You come from a savage age. But not savage enough for me.” Marlowe laughed again.

  “Why would such an illustrious writer listen to Richard?”

  “Why, indeed.” He mocked her. “Who better to rewrite Will’s dabblings?”