Wasn’t that a bit unkind! Although it was true – Prospero had lost Miranda, for she’d soon be Ferdinand’s wife. But he knew perfectly well that Alonso would think he meant that she’d died, and Alonso fell for his trick.
‘If only,’ he said sadly, ‘your daughter and my son were alive and well, and were king and queen of Naples!’
How my master must have laughed inwardly as he heard those words! And how teasingly he smiled as he led King Alonso to the mouth of his cave and pointed in to where Ferdinand and Miranda were sitting, playing chess and looking lovingly into one another’s eyes!
So, in the end, our story has a happy ending. Gonzalo, that good and wise old man, summed it up when he said:
In one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
And Ferdinand her brother found a wife
Where he himself was lost; Prospero, his dukedom
In a poor isle, and all of us ourselves,
When no man was his own.
Listen to those last words again: ‘When no man was his own’. Gonzalo was right, wasn’t he? Everyone changed that afternoon, when their minds were so full of my magic that they couldn’t think straight.
Ferdinand and Miranda fell in love and changed from boy and girl to future king and queen.
King Alonso changed from traitor to friend, and from grief-stricken man to proud and happy father.
Prospero changed from a great magician to a serious duke, and where Alonso gained a daughter, he gained a fine son.
Then there were the two clowns, Stephano and Trinculo, who’d wanted to rule this island and had ended up being dragged through thorns, and dumped in muddy pools, and chased by hounds. I rather think that, in days to come, they looked back and saw their whole adventure as a kind of drunken nightmare. I don’t think they’ll ever have ideas above their station again, though whether they changed much is anyone’s guess. When I finally fetched them and delivered them to Alonso, they said they were sorry – but who knows how sorry they actually felt.
And what about Antonio and Sebastian? Did they really change? Did the hardships they suffered make them see the error of their ways and become good and noble men? Were their consciences pricked when they were shown their sins?
Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that Prospero, who knew they’d tried to murder Alonso, could very easily have ruined them by telling the truth, and he chose not to. They knew he knew, though – so once they all got home to Italy, they’d have to think hard before they tried any more of their tricks. They’d have to at least appear to be good and noble men.
And that is the end of my story of The Tempest. After resting in Prospero’s cave, the royal party boarded their ship for the journey home, and the very last piece of spriting I did was to promise them calm seas and gentle winds. Then off they sailed to plan another wedding, leaving the island to me, and to Caliban. And oh, what a wonderful sight it was to see that royal ship disappear over the horizon! What a marvellous feeling it was to be as free as the air, at long, long last!
Now, you know how I changed from slave to free spirit, but what about that monster Caliban? Did he change, when he got his freedom? Was he at peace when his hard work and punishments were over, and this island his at last?
I’ve often wondered, and so I’ve looked for him today, hoping to find out. I’ve flown over the sands and peered into the cave that used to be his prison, thinking perhaps I’d see him dragging his logs as he always did. But I haven’t managed to find him, and now it’s time I flew off, for evening’s come and there are a thousand other places I want to be.
Shall I tell you what I think, though? I don’t think Caliban did change; because Caliban didn’t need to change. I’m sure that he’s somewhere on this island right now, catching fish in a stream, opening oysters with his claws, or simply sitting with his feet in a warm rock pool, gazing at the clouds’ reflections and humming a melody from long ago. And if he’s humming it tunelessly, you can be sure he knows how it should sound. He remembers how I sang it, and that’s the way he’s hearing it in his head.
But there’s one more person who did change. Do you know who it is?
It’s someone who saw the tempest, and heard my music, and saw all my spriting. It’s someone who, from this day onwards, can see me if they simply shut their eyes. Then, they can be whisked back to this island in the twinkling of an eye, and when they’re here they can swim, or dive into the fire, or ride on the curled clouds with me. It’s someone who’s understood the story of The Tempest, and who knows that everything is possible if you are free to use that one magical power that you possess: your imagination.
For Ariel changes everyone he meets; and – believe me – he’s changed you, too.
About the Author
Franzeska G. Ewart was born in Galloway. She now lives in Glasgow, but still likes to spend time by the sea, lochs and rivers of south-west Scotland, which were an inspiration to her as she prepared this retelling of The Tempest.
Franzeska writes for all ages. Her The Pen-pal From Outer Space and Shadowflight were both Guardian Book of the Week. She has written three books for A & C Black, all about Bryony Bell and her meteoric rise to stardom. Bryony’s proving very popular with ten year olds, and Franzeska spends much of her time demonstrating the magic tricks from Under the Spell of Bryony Bell. These include sawing a lady in half, which is a particular favourite!
When she’s not writing, Franzeska loves to play treble recorder and look after her two cats, Lily and The Woozle.
SHAKESPEARE TODAY
SHAKESPEARE TODAY
SHAKESPEARE TODAY
To Marina Jenkyns, with love and thanks
This electronic edition published 2007 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Text copyright © 2007 Franzeska G. Ewart
Reprinted 2010
First published 2008 by
A & C Black
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP
www.acblack.com
Illustrations copyright © 2007 David Wyatt
The rights of Franzeska G. Ewart and David Wyatt to be identified as author and illustrator of this work respectively have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
eISBN 9781408163368
A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.
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The Tempest Page 5
