by Lisa Klein
“Thoughts for the prince. Pansies for you, my lord. Think of me,” I said, my small voice striving to rise above the noise. I had chosen the words myself, wanting to show off my French, hoping to please my father by bringing attention to us. And I wanted to touch the hand of a prince.
But I was disappointed. Hamlet reached out and took the flowers, not touching my fingers nor marking my words. As he went on, I saw the pansies spill from his gloved hand and fall to the ground, where they were trodden by the feet of many horses and men. I must have sobbed aloud.
“Do not waste your tears, little girl,” said Horatio. “We boys are ever careless of flowers.”
“Yes, give us swords or sticks instead,” laughed Laertes, pretending to spar with Horatio. Still I pouted.
“Look,” Horatio said kindly, taking my hand. “Yours are not the only gifts Prince Hamlet neglects. He cannot carry so much at once.”
Indeed I saw the ground strewn with dusty ribbons and crushed flowers wilting in his heedless wake.
Chapter 3
I had been disappointed in my attempt to gain Hamlet’s attention on his birthday. But soon thereafter, when I least wished for it, his notice fell upon me, causing me great embarrassment.
It was a busy market day in the village. Laertes and I were bickering. His companion, a dull-witted older boy by the name of Edmund, had thumbed his nose at me, putting me more out of temper. Suddenly a cart laden with bleating lambs rolled past, and one of the smallest creatures wiggled through the wooden bars of its cage and tumbled to the street. Finding itself suddenly free, the lamb trotted off. Laertes saw the chance for some sport and gave chase. A fast runner, he easily caught the lamb and pounced on it. Then Edmund ran up and began to poke it with a stick. The lamb’s weak bleating roused my pity.
“Stop, Edmund!” I cried, but the stupid boy only laughed at me. In a rage, I threw myself at Laertes, sending him sprawling in the dust.
“Get off of me, you she-devil!” My brother, choking on dirt, cursed me, but still he held fast to the animal.
“Let it go, you mongrel cur! It’s only a tiny, innocent lamb,” I cried, pummeling his back. “I hate you!”
“What’s that? Who’s there!” exclaimed a voice in surprise.
I looked up from where I sat astride my brother. There stood Prince Hamlet and Horatio. Edmund had run away.
“Je le pensais. I thought so!” said Hamlet.
Later I remembered that he spoke in French, and I wondered if he meant to show me that he had noticed my gift of the pansies. But at the time I blushed furiously to be seen by Hamlet while entangled in a fight with my brother.
“Why, ‘tis the rowdy girl and her brother.” He said to Horatio, “They are kin, you see, but not so kind to each other.”
As it was too late to regain my dignity, I resolved yet to free the lamb. I pinched Laertes’ elbows and with a little cry, he released his hold on it. The creature struggled a bit, then dashed away, unharmed. I dismounted from my brother’s back and stood with my fists on my hips, pretending defiance though my legs felt weak.
Laertes scowled at me. Indeed his shame was greater than mine, to be mastered by a mere girl. I pitied him a little; still I savored my triumph.
“Look here. I’ll show you how to bag the little shrew,” said Hamlet, winking at my chastened brother.
He seized me about the waist and lifted me above his head. I was too surprised to utter a sound. The pit of my stomach flipped with excitement. I grasped Hamlet’s forearms to steady myself, and he whirled me around until I screamed with a desperate delight. Then he swung me down onto a pile of hay, where I sprawled, breathless and dizzy. Horatio reached out his hand, pulling me to my feet again.
“You will make the girl ill,” he said, holding my arm while I wavered unsteadily.
“Oh, no! Do it again, my lord, please!” I begged, but Hamlet had already turned to my brother.
“Come on, boy, let’s wrestle,” he said to Laertes.
I watched my brother and the prince grapple, saw Laertes’ fiery speed meet Hamlet’s calm agility. The lamb was forgotten. A crowd of boys had gathered, and they clapped and cheered while Horatio stood by with an amused look. Now and then I shivered at the memory of the spinning and the thought that the prince had held me with his hands tight about my middle.
Laertes emerged from the match dusty, breathless, and, it seemed to me, defeated. But he was proud, his humiliation forgotten.
That night, my brother boasted for our father’s benefit, “Did you see, Ophelia, how I pinned his arms most firmly until I let him go?”
Having no desire to renew our conflict, I merely nodded. Father was pleased, for he had high hopes that Laertes would become, like Horatio, a trusted courtier and confidant of Hamlet.
“Serve the prince well and one day you will serve the king,” my father instructed. “Serve him poorly, and our days are numbered!” He drew his finger across his throat. It was a simple fact known even to children that to anger a king, even one so good as King Hamlet, could mean death.
To please our father, Laertes took every chance to engage in fierce competition with Prince Hamlet. He knew that to advance at court, he had to master all manner of sports and combat. In time, he became skilled and could sometimes defeat Hamlet in an archery contest.
One day I watched them practicing their swordplay with sapling branches. I noticed that my brother, though younger in years, was growing near in height to the prince. Wielding their harmless foils, Hamlet and Laertes thrust and feinted with a mortal seriousness. I held my hand to my mouth to suppress a laugh.
Horatio, who stood nearby as always, bowed to me and surprised me by speaking.
“I’ll put my wager on the prince. And you, my lady?”
My skirt was torn and my hair unkempt. In truth, I was more tomboy than lady, despite being past my tenth year. But I do not think Horatio mocked me, for his smile was kind.
“Why, naturally I bet upon my brother,” I replied shyly.
I was not being entirely truthful, for I could not say whom I favored. Laertes was more agile, but Hamlet was more skilled. I watched the prince. His bright eyes focused on the battle, and the muscles of his legs and arms were taut with his strength. He allowed my brother to gain an advantage, then reversed their positions by parrying his thrusts. After a time, they called a truce, sweating and showing the welts and scratches from their makeshift weapons.
“A fine swordsman you will be, and a worthy opponent���” began Hamlet. I saw Laertes thrust his shoulders back and swell with pride.
“���in ten years’ time!” finished Hamlet, laughing. I noticed his voice was that of a man now.
Thus life at Elsinore, even for children, was full of competition. We were also used to roughness and cruelty. The blows of the cook’s wooden spoon, the harsh words of the schoolmaster, and my father’s neglect were evidence of the world’s indifference to my feelings and well-being. Yet it did not occur to me that someone might intend to cause me serious harm. So I was unprepared when Edmund, whom I considered a common bully, began to present a more menacing aspect to me alone. One day he caught my arm and spoke lewd words to me. I did not know what he meant by them until I saw the motions of his hands. Then I simply turned away in disgust. Another day he pulled me behind a tree and offered me a com if I would lift my skirts for him. Without a word, I ran from him like a startled deer.
“If you are going to tell your brother, I will say to him that you thrust yourself on me like a harlot!” he shouted after me.
More out of shame than fear of Edmund’s threat, I did not go to Laertes. So when Edmund found me next, in a corridor of Elsinore, he boldly pushed himself against me and tried to kiss me.
“You will like this, and if you do not, then you are worth nothing,” he said with a note of contempt in his voice.
This time I was afraid, though I did not know exactly what he meant to do as he fumbled to reach inside my skirt. I pushed at him, but to little avail,
for he was stronger than Laertes. Then by chance my knee found a tender spot between his legs and he doubled over, cursing me as I fled.
I did not see Edmund for several weeks, and thinking I had finally deterred him, I resumed my usual habits. I was used to swimming alone, imagining myself a great sleek fish such as I had seen pictured in an ancient book. With slow, silent strokes I would glide until I reached the bend where the brook curved away from the castle. There the current, after running over rocks where village women scrubbed their clothes, widened into a calm pool. One day I floated there on my back, my eyes closed, listening to the rattling cries of a bird, a kingfisher that skimmed the water’s edge and crossed from shore to shore. I heard a small splashing but imagined it to be the kingfisher diving for its prey. Then I felt a hand grip my ankle and drag me under the water. I thought it was Laertes teasing me, but he would have let me go at once. I kicked and thrashed, but the hand did not loosen its grip. Another hand bore down on my shoulder. I grew desperate to take a breath. I must not lose my wits. Letting my body go limp, I hoped my opponent would think he had subdued me. Indeed I felt his hold on me loosen, so I twisted my body in a swift movement and slipped away. I broke the surface of the water and gulped air greedily. It was Edmund who swam away from me with fast, wild strokes.
“You foul, creeping snake! You toad, you wart!” I cried after him. He did not turn or look back.
As I choked on the water I had swallowed, strong arms grasped me from behind. Again I struggled, until I saw that it was Prince Hamlet who pulled me onto the grassy bank. My thin smock clung to me, and my arms and legs trembled weakly.
“What great monster of the deep do you strive against, little Ophelia?”
“That wicked boy. I hate him! But he is no match for me,” I said with a feigned bravado. “There goes the toad.”
I pointed to the stream’s far bank, where Edmund sneaked away among the tall grass. Hamlet scowled.
“That knave is the son of my father’s treasurer, a deceitful man. Proof that the apple does not fall far from the tree,” he said. Seeing that I shivered, he took the short cloak that he earned and dropped it over my shoulders. “You should not be in his company.”
“Do you think I sought him out?” I cried. “No, he assaulted me!”
“You should carry a dagger. I cannot be always at hand to rescue you from harm.” This time he smiled, and his blue eyes were suddenly merry.
“I do not need to be rescued,” I said, though I shuddered to think of the harm Edmund would have done me had Hamlet’s appearance not frightened him off. “I can swim like the trout that live in this brook,” I boasted, to cover my fear.
“One needs only to tickle a trout and it will jump into one’s hand.” Hamlet winked at me and wiggled his fingers.
Supposing that he meant to tickle me, I shrugged off his cloak, slipped into the water, and pushed off from the bank.
“You cannot lure me like a fish,” I said, for I disliked his teasing.
“No indeed, for you are the proverbial eel, always slipping away from me,” he called.
I swam upstream, feeling the current against me. Hamlet followed along the bank, mimicking my swimming motions.
” ‘Tis a mermaid indeed! See, a woman above, with the tail of a fish.”
I had none of a mermaid’s curves, for my body was as slim as a boy’s. Why did he taunt me? I turned on my back and kicked, trying to splash his fine clothes and force him to retreat. But he only laughed, pinching his tunic to show me that it was already water-soaked.
When I came to the place where the willows arched over a deep pool in the swift-running brook, I paused to tread water. I was growing breathless. My bodice and skirt lay draped over a branch of the tree on the bank, at a distance I would not cross under Hamlet’s gaze.
“Good day, Lord Hamlet,” I said, inviting him to be gone.
He smiled, bowed, and turned away. Up he climbed through the meadow that swayed with golden-eyed daisies.
“I come anon, good Horatio! I have just caught a mermaid. I never thought to find such sport away from the sea!” he called out, laughing all the while.
I saw his friend at the crest of the hill, a witness to our encounter. Behind Horatio, the stark parapets of Elsinore were barely visible.
When they had gone, I crept from the water and in the shelter of the willow boughs put on my sun-warmed clothes. My heart beat fast with excitement.
Chapter 4
Someone must have spoken to my father about my unruly ways. Soon after the incident at the brook, he gave me a new satin dress and horn combs for my hair. With fingers unused to such tasks, he untangled my hair and brushed it until my head ached. Then he instructed me to follow him while he attended the king and to curtsy and nod in the presence of Queen Gertrude, but never to speak.
“Do not gaze at the sun, lest you go blind, but stand in its light and let it warm you,” he instructed me. This was one of the many sayings he made me commit to memory.
Indeed Gertrude was so grand and beautiful that I was afraid to look at her, even when she touched my curls and asked my name.
“She is Ophelia, my daughter and my treasure, the exact copy and very picture of her departed and lamented mother,” said my father grandly, before I could open my mouth.
Gertrude lifted my chin and I looked up into eyes that were deep and gray and full of mystery.
“She is sweet of countenance, a most fair child,” she murmured. “And a lively one, I daresay,” she added with a smile.
Feeling a vague longing come over me, I lowered my eyes and made a deep curtsy.
With Queen Gertrude’s words of approval my fortunes changed, and I became a member of her household. A servant was sent that very day to fetch my small trunk. My father smiled to himself and hummed, pleased for his own sake.
I, however, was unwilling to go. Though I felt no great love for my father, his company was familiar to me. Nor did I wish to change my ways.
“I do not want to leave you and Laertes,” I said in a pleading voice.
“But I cannot care for you. I have no idea how to raise a young lady. That is a task best suited for women.” He spoke as if this were a truth evident to anyone with a speck of reason.
I planted my heels firmly and resisted the pull of his arm.
“Come now, no more dallying,” he said, though more gently. “Attending the queen is a great honor.”
“But what shall I do if she is not satisfied or grows harsh with me?”
“Obey her. That is all! Go now, girl, and do not prove a fool,” my father said, impatient again. Then he pressed something into my palm. It was the tiny portrait of my mother in its gold frame. I felt a small flame of courage begin to flicker within me.
It seemed a long journey from my father’s quarters at the outskirts of the castle to Gertrude’s rooms at the heart of Elsinore. We turned many times, until I felt myself to be lost. I followed the servant past the lodgings of courtiers and ministers greater than my father. I followed him through the guardroom, where men slept, talked idly, or played at dice. They gave us barely a glance as we entered the hall leading to the queen’s dwelling. My steps slowed as I marveled at the long gallery that overlooked the great hall below. It was lined with lifelike tapestries depicting gods and goddesses, soldiers and hunters, ladies and a unicorn. I began to think it might be exciting to spend my days amid such splendor.
When we came to a room near the queen’s bedchamber, the servant left me, and I was alone. Narrow but drenched with sun, the room contained a bed, a stool, a crooked table, and a rush mat. There was a grate where I might build a small fire for warmth. A window faced south, and I looked out to see the garden and a labyrinth far below. Not knowing what would befall me next, I clutched my mother’s image, feeling all at once abandoned and chosen, despairing and hopeful.
Heavy wheezing and a shuffled step heralded the arrival of someone at my door. A woman of advancing years came into my room. Stout and short of breath, s
he dabbed constantly at her moist forehead and neck. From under her cap sprang white curls like sprigs of pale moss. This was Elnora, Lady Valdemar. It had fallen to her, like some undeserved misfortune, to teach me courtly behavior and guide my education. She let me know at once that the task was an impossible one.
“I hear that you are wont to throw off your skirts and swim! That you run about the castle grounds rousting with boys!” Her voice rose with disbelief at the end of each phrase. “That will cease now, for nothing could be more unbecoming a lady of Queen Gertrude’s court.” Her curls Jiggled as she shook her head in disapproval.
I felt it was unjust of her to scold me, but I only said, “I desire to do what is pleasing.” My father would have been proud of this reply.
“Of course you do. Else you will be sent back to that cave from whence you came. What is your age now? Eleven years? You have been without rule all that time! Pah! No horse will take the bridle and bit after so long.”
I did not like being compared to a horse.
“I can rule myself with study,” I said. “I can sit for hours without moving if I am reading Ptolemy or Herodotus.” I longed to show her that I had some virtue and no lack of education.
“There will be no more study of philosophy or the ancients,” she said firmly. “No man wants a wife more learned than he is, for fear that she will prove a shrew and make him wear the skirts.”
“I would not become a shrew!” I said, thinking of how I had often bested Laertes. But I held my tongue after this retort. Would I always be so contentious? “Please teach me how I should behave, then,” I said mildly.
“What you must learn of proper decorum would fill volumes,” she said with a weary sigh. “In those of noble birth, virtuous behavior resides within. Others can practice and learn it, but the difficulty is very great.”
I began to despair, but reminding myself of my skill in learning, I vowed to master this new subject.
Then Elnora made me remove my clothing, and she examined all my limbs and fingered the heartbeat in my wrist.
