The Shakespeare Mask

by Newton Frohlich

  “Don’t test my patience, Edward. Cecil and I are worried about you. ”

  “You two are relentless.”

  “Perhaps, but in exchange for your cooperation I’m prepared to be generous. Do your duty and, at the wedding reception in Rheims, the French ambassador promised me Jacques Amyot, the translator of the new French edition of Plutarch’s Lives of the Greek and Roman Nobles, will sit on your right. Pierre Ronsard, your favorite among the French literati, will sit on your left.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Save your sarcasm, there’s more. The ambassador also assures me actors from Mantua will be present to demonstrate the improvisatory techniques of commedia dell’arte.”

  “Your Majesty, I’m speechless.”

  “A rare event—remind me to issue a proclamation. Now, I’ve delivered my side of the bargain. Are you prepared to deliver yours?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “No buts. I prepared a literary and cultural itinerary for you. Follow it and you’ll accumulate enough experience, material, and technique for a lifetime of writing.”

  As she scanned her notes, he took a piece of charcoal and a sheet of parchment from the pocket of his doublet.

  “My tutor Roger Ascham wrote to Johannes Sturm, the man they call Germany’s Cicero. He’s their leading Protestant intellectual, and after you visit Paris and Rheims, he’ll host you in Strasbourg. He’s consented to discuss anything you desire for as long as you wish. Then, when the snows melt sufficiently to permit you to cross the Alps, you’ll take the St. Gottard pass and enter Italy.”

  He clapped his hands—he couldn’t help it. She smiled the kindest smile she could, given the paste. Again she consulted her notes.

  “Edward, you must avoid the Duchy of Milan. The Inquisition there tortures Protestants as well as Jews. And use the canals and rivers that make traversing northern Italy easier. You should arrive in Venice—la Serenissima—in springtime.”

  He laughed. “You sound like one of those agents who arranges grand tours for courtiers.”

  “You’re taking the trip of a lifetime, realizing a dream I’ll never fulfill. Please be so kind as to let me share your good fortune without your bon mots.”

  “Forgive me—only mal mots from now on.”

  She glared. He held up his hands.

  “It’s only my way, Your Majesty. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’re thoughtful and generous and I don’t know what to say.”

  “If the Queen of England planned my itinerary, I wouldn’t know what to say either, especially when I learned she’s considering the additional destinations of Athens and Constantinople.”

  “You really must love me.”

  “I’d like you to take time from your literary pursuits to be my personal emissary to Murad, Pasha of Turkey. Our Catholic brethren destroyed his fleet at Lepanto. While he licks his wounds, England is prepared to offer him a treaty in exchange for a military pact against Spain. You can pave the way by making him our friend. The people Walsingham calls his intelligence report that he loves falconry. Thomas Smith tells me you have an aptitude for the sport.”

  “Greece and Turkey will make my trip more risky.”

  “Another reason to do what you have to do with Nan. I asked Sir Thomas to send her the chemical waters he’s concocted to strengthen women. I also asked my doctor to provide Nan with Paracelsus distillations. I’ve done my part, now you do yours.”

  “You’ve certainly thought of everything. You have no idea how excited I am—”

  “Don’t be too excited. Cecil says a thousand brigands want to take you hostage.”

  He gave her his most solemn look. “I’ll try not to be kidnapped, Your Majesty. Now, Cecil’s clerks say my debt to you exceeds nine thousand pounds. I either have to borrow more funds to make the trip or sell some of my lands in Cornwall—and I’ll need your permission to sell.”

  “Dear boy, I mastered many details to arrange this trip, but information about Cornish real estate was not among them. Ask your father-in-law. I did write the future king of France and requested he provide you with letters of introduction to important persons in Venice. I also inquired if you might stay in the Louvre—if you can stand his mother, that is.”

  She sat back, her shoulders slumped.

  “You seem gloomy today, Your Majesty. May I be of assistance?”

  “You are intuitive, and yes, I’m gloomy. Everyone I ever thought of marrying is either wed or dead except the Frog Prince, and he’s more pockmarked than I am.” She took a sip of wine. “Edward, I’ll miss you.”

  “And I you.”

  “Don’t be impatient with Cecil. His Court of Wards needs time to appraise all your lands. Until Drake brings me more gold and jewels from the New World, your lands are my best financial hope.

  “By the way, the French court is rife with gossip about whether the future king’s bride will permit the king to style her hair for the wedding. That seems to be his condition for marrying her.” She shrugged. “What can I say? They’re French.”

  They both laughed.

  “Also, Henri of Navarre will be at the wedding. Why is it every French king is named Henri?”

  “I ought to write a comedy about that,” he said. “Of course, we might also ask why every English girl is named Elizabeth or Mary.”

  “Because half of England loves me and the other half loved my sister.”

  They both laughed, and then her eyes became dreamy.

  “Oh, Edward. How I wish I were going with you.”

  So many tasks to accomplish in ninety days, and the most important was the least welcome.

  After the goodbye party at Hampton Court, Edward took his wife by the hand and they walked to Henry VIII’s favorite bedroom. It was very late and he was tired. He glanced out the window. In the dark, he could hardly see the maze.

  He closed the door, embraced Nan, and kissed her.

  She was lovely, with a petite blossoming figure, thick brown hair, and deep-set brown eyes. She smelled sweet and fresh. They’d been married four years, yet he’d never really looked at her before.

  “Nan, can we make a new start?” he said. “I do care for you, it’s just that I never thought of you as—”

  “Edward, please.” She raised a finger to his lips and looked away. “I know you don’t love me. I don’t know if I love you either, not the way I should. I wish we were back at my parents’ dining-room table. I always thought you were smart, confident, handsome, and funny. You were my hero.”

  “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

  “And I wish we could play the way we used to.”

  “We played?”

  “Don’t you remember? You taught me to play tennis.”

  He did remember. “You were good.”

  “You also taught me to dance.”

  “You were good at that, too.”

  “I hope I can be good at what we have to do now.” She looked down at the Bible she carried. “Nobody’s told me how.”

  She placed the Bible on the table next to the bed and murmured something that sounded like a prayer.

  Now more than ever he was glad of his time with the queen—at least one of them here would know what they were doing. But the queen had made it easy for him by taking the initiative. Nan, a creation of her parents’ demands, could never seduce anyone.

  Slowly, he helped her undress.

  “Thank you, Edward.” She forced a smile. “I was too nervous to undo the buttons.”

  When she was naked, he lifted the sheet and she slipped under the quilt. He didn’t feel an ounce of passion.

  As he undressed, she started reciting. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.”

  He got under the quilt and began to caress her breasts. Her nipples hardened. He saw her blush as she said, “He restoreth my soul,” under her breath. He put his hand between her legs and gently spread them apart. Her eyes widened. “He leads me in the paths
of righteousness.”

  Should he ask her to stop praying? But she was frightened. If prayers gave her comfort, he’d have to think of other things.

  He thought of the queen.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

  Rod and staff. He smothered a laugh.

  He was inside her now. What a difference—he’d known the queen was no virgin, but Nan was tight as a vise. She didn’t complain, but tears trickled down her cheeks. He wished he knew how to make it better for her, but that didn’t seem possible. He closed his eyes and was back in the queen’s bedroom. Finally, the explosion.

  “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou hast anointed my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

  She knew so little about life. He didn’t know much, but at least he wanted to know more. He rolled off her and lay there, wondering if he should say something. Before he could think of anything, Nan moved farther away from him. Thank God she’d run out of verses and felt no need of another psalm.

  It was over.

  He’d had no doubt that Nan was a virgin, a status confirmed by a glance at the bed sheet the next morning. He said a prayer of his own that they’d made a boy—he never wanted to do this again. He wasn’t naive. He knew the odds, but he’d done what the queen asked. Besides, nobody asked him to stay until Nan conceived.

  Next on his list was to write a last will and testament. He left his property to his sister Mary and granted Nan the right to use it until she died or remarried, whichever came first. If they made a boy, the child would inherit everything and Nan would be provided for. If they made a girl, the usual provisions for the child and Nan.

  He assembled his entourage, from groom to harbinger to cooks (two). Counting Lewyn, there were eight altogether. He intended to stay away at least a year. The cost would be enormous, and Cecil dragged his feet on advancing funds. When he swore for the hundredth time that no nobleman should sell his lands, Edward decided to sell the property in Cornwall himself. Sir John Arundel agreed to pay 2,488 pounds for the Cornwall lands and manor house, in two payments on November 1, 1576 and 1577. The price seemed so good that he accepted, even if he’d have to wait two years for the first payment.

  To his surprise Cecil not only approved the sale but offered to cover the travel expenses out of his own pocket until the purchase price was paid—even after he’d told Cecil that the cost of travel could approach 4,500 pounds.

  “I’m proud of you, Edward. After Arundel pays, you’ll only owe me two thousand pounds.”

  Was Cecil mellowing, or had bedding Nan done the trick? He was so relieved that he didn’t remind Cecil the old boy still owed him fifteen thousand pounds for Nan’s dowry.

  He hoped his estimate of expenses was correct. He hadn’t a clue what anything cost, in Europe or in England. He’d never managed his own money before.

  His last task was to have a New Year’s present delivered to the queen. If not for her, he couldn’t imagine how he’d have gotten through the experience with Nan. He had no trouble convincing Cecil to add the huge cost to the balance he owed the Court of Wards. The gift was a ship made of gold and diamonds.

  In January, he was off.

  He reached Paris safe and sound. The Louvre was grand and the Frog Prince didn’t kidnap his brother Henri. The new king’s mother was as unbearable as the queen had predicted, and Henri won the battle to dress his fiancée’s hair.

  For Edward, talking with Amyot and Ronsard and seeing the commedia dell’arte performance by the players from Mantua were the high points. He was even surer now that this improvisatory technique would be crucial to his playwriting, for the serious fare as well as the comedies.

  Before he left for Strasbourg, he sketched two plays. He added a reference to King Henri of Navarre, whom he’d met at the wedding. Another Henri—the queen would love it. He used Plautus’ plot about a man searching for his long-lost twin brother, but it needed amusing touches, so he gave each twin the same name. Their servants, another set of long-lost twins, also shared the same name. For spice, he made use of an Italian play, Gl’Inganni, which hadn’t yet been translated into English.

  The other play—Love’s Labour’s Lost, also in the tradition of commedia dell’arte—included a braggart, a pedant, a curate, and a clown. The pedant would be the star—no one at court ever forget their Oxbridge professor who’d made a fool of himself with excessive displays of learning.

  In Paris, a letter from Cecil arrived with good news: Nan was pregnant.

  “I can’t believe it, Lewyn. On the very first try!”

  “Young women can be more fertile.”

  “I’m sending Cecil and Nan presents. A pair of coach horses for her and a portrait of me in a French beret for Cecil. Maybe that will broaden his outlook.”

  There is a history in all men’s lives

  Figuring the nature of the times deceased;

  The which observed, a man may prophesy,

  With a near aim, of the main chance of things.

  Shakespeare

  Henry IV, Part I

  Edward stood at the bow of the traghetto as rowers propelled it across Venice’s Grand Lagoon. His entourage surrounded him, shouting and pointing.

  “Venice looks like a juicy tart!”

  “Nah, she’s a lovely woman!”

  In addition to Lewyn and the rest of his entourage, he had two guests: Nathaniel Baxter, a Greek-language scholar, and William Russell, the future earl of Bedford and Baxter’s Oxford University roommate. They’d promised to pay their way, having no idea of the cost, but how could he deny them the adventure?

  After weeks in the saddle, crossing France, Germany, Switzerland, and northern Italy, he was tired. After the traghetto docked. Edward strode across Saint Mark’s Square without so much as a glance at the palace. He’d present his credentials to the doge tomorrow—right now he needed a bath, a meal, and a bed that didn’t roll. He wanted to see the city when he was alert. What he knew about Venice from Sir Thomas was more than enough to whet his appetite.

  “The city’s on land and water,” Sir Thomas had said. “The canals narrow as they flow into the interior, and the sun’s light is like none other on earth. As for the buildings reflected in the water, it’s a stunning display of eastern and western architecture. You’ll never wonder again why Venice dominates the world.”

  The king of France was providing accommodations at his embassy until Edward rented a palazzo. Henri said fifty thousand Venetians—nearly a fourth of the population—had died in the latest outbreak of the plague, and with many more having fled to the country, there was no shortage of places to rent. When Edward arrived at the embassy, he discovered that the ambassador had also fled and left only a skeleton staff.

  He was asleep in an hour. As usual, he and Lewyn shared a room. He awoke at dawn, dressed quietly, and crept down the grand stairway in his bare feet. He helped himself to wine and bread in the kitchen and then went out into the garden.

  He liked to take his breakfast where he could listen to the early bird. That song was best, Sir Thomas said—those that followed were repetitive. He’d already dressed for his ten o’clock meeting with the doge. Cecil said Luigo Mosenigo was crucial to restoring diplomatic ties Venice had cut when England turned Protestant.

  Having heard that courtiers in Venice didn’t flaunt themselves like the nobility in London and Paris, he went inside for a look at his attire in the foyer mirror. The red in his cape was too bright and the silver embroidery screamed. The brim of his hat was too wide and the feather excessive, but he had nothing quieter with him.

  He left the embassy and hoped for the best.

  The moment he entered the palace he felt like a peacock. Everyone here wore black.

  When his turn came, he spoke Italian a
nd talked too fast.

  “Your Excellency, I am honored to present the compliments of my queen, who desires my visit to be a first step in restoring diplomatic relations with your magnificent city. Personally, I would be grateful if you would grant me the privilege of touring the arsenal—the queen tells me Venetian craftsmen turn out a new boat every day.”

  “Our shipyards turn out six boats a day, Your Grace,” said the doge. “As for diplomatic relations, we shall give that matter due consideration when we have a better idea about what England has become. In the meantime, I am sure that increased trade between Venice and England would prove beneficial to all.”

  “Your Excellency, Her Majesty is pleased to agree, but would not a military alliance enable your ships to cross Spain’s waters more easily?”

  “Your Grace, our boats no longer require military assistance. We now transport our goods in Genoese boats—the ones you English call ‘Andrews’—and the Ragusan boats you call ‘argosies.’ ” The doge raised an eyebrow. “With regard to England’s difficulty in traversing Spanish waters, may I humbly suggest that piracy is no way to make friends?”

  Edward scrambled for a tactful response. “I would agree, Your Excellency, that England’s piracy is … shortsighted.”

  “Your Grace,” the doge said, “our ambassador in Paris reported that he attended a reading of your play The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth. He said you translated it into French and read all the parts. Would you do that for us in Italian?”

  Edward smiled. “With pleasure, Your Excellency. As soon as I complete my preparations, I’ll notify your clerk.”

  He returned to the French embassy to find Baxter and Russell awake. He dispatched them to find a palazzo to rent, asked Lewyn to obtain black clothes for a literary soiree that evening—an invitation had been waiting for him when he returned—and went to work translating The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth.