The Prince's Doom

by David Blixt

  Here we have the trial scene from The Merchant Of Venice, something I never meant to write. It just happened, with the sidebar of Pietro's interview with Antonio (Antonio the Merchant, not Antonio Capulletto! Argh!) the night before the trial. I was so inspired watching Mike Nussbaum's breakdown as Shylock, I had to play out the consequences of that terrible verdict.

  Here too we have the first meeting between Beatrice and Benedick, perhaps my favourite of Shakespeare's couples. Her line in Much Ado is 'I know you of old.' There is far too much life in those five words to leave them alone. And the chance to have a discussion between Shrew's Kate and Much Ado's Beatrice was just too tempting to resist.

  There is one thing I would do over, if I could go back and tweak all of my books. Benedick would be named Benedetto, just to be a little less ham-fisted about things. But alas, while I changed many names in MOV, I started with Benedick there, so he remains proudly Benedick here.

  Speaking of Much Ado, there is a lengthy section in here dealing with Don Pedro's courting of Portia from Merchant. Like most people, I'm intrigued by Don Pedro's backward proposal to Beatrice in Much Ado: “Will you have me, lady?” And at the end, Benedick's mocking: “You are sad, Prince. Get thee a wife. Get thee a wife!” Since Shakespeare had used the Prince of Aragon as one of the suitors for Portia in Merchant, the chance to tie the bit with the caskets to his reluctance/unwillingness to marry was irresistible. He took an oath! Because, seriously, why isn't Don Pedro married? He's pretty great (except that part where he denounces Hero on her wedding day. That was shameful – yet ties nicely into the pride he shows in the scene with Portia. He's clearly grown up a great deal in the interim, but not enough).

  The cumulative effect is an awful lot of Shakespeare. This novel has more of his characters running around than ever before. I can only say that this volume was intended to bring together all the threads I had tugged before, weaving them to one ultimate moment. Verona was poised to take over the world, and it's important that all of Will's Italian characters be there to witness its fall.

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  Speaking of falls…

  As most of my readers know, I met my wife playing Petruchio to her Kate, lo these many years ago. There is a sequel play by John Fletcher called The Tamer Tamed, which starts with Kate dead and Petruchio remarrying a woman named Maria. Seemingly mild until the wedding, Maria vows not to have sex with her new husband until she can 'turn him and bend him as I list, and mold him into a babe again.'

  The hell with that. Dismissing Kate is unthinkable. Perhaps personal reasons make me overfond, but Kate and Petruchio have ever been my ideal couple for this series. I've given them four children and a happy life together. We know from R&J that they had a son, as the Nurse points to “young Petruchio” at the Capulet ball (at that same party Capulet mentions Lucentio's wedding, we know it can't be Petruchio himself).

  Petruchio is the quintessential Veronese – witty, loud, brave, eager, brash, devoted, humourous, and loyal. There was no greater signal I could give that Verona is falling than to remove Petruchio from the stage. Happiness is gone. Joy tempered with grief was one of Shakespeare's best devices, and I've stolen it here.

  After I wrote his death, the community I am blessed to be a part of lost someone precious. Stolen from us far too early, Molly Glynn was a soul so large and giving that none of us can imagine her being gone.

  In October of 2014 we gathered to mourn her. While the outpouring of grief that night inspired the memorial scene in this book, I could never adequately capture what happened. Those who were there will understand. Love hard, people.

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  Love…

  When I was sixteen, I fell in love for the first time. I had dated before, but this was like being trampled by a horse while drinking nitroglycerin. She filled my mind and my heart, my days and my nights. My first love, in all the ways that matter. If she is not the basis for Lia, she is certainly the model for how Cesco feels for her.

  Then, after a wild two months, it was over. She went back to her boyfriend before me, a poet. I have hated poets ever since.

  I missed being in love, missed it so much that when a very nice young woman showed interest in me, I took all that feeling and heaped it on her unsuspecting head. A few weeks later, I realized I was not actually in love again, just desperate to be. So I did the worst thing possible and jumped out of that relationship just as fast as I'd jumped into it, without any explanation at all. That poor young lady never knew what hit her, or why. Even worse, I was still chasing love, so she saw me flirting and romancing others.

  By the time I was collected enough to explain my actions, almost a year later, it was far too late. Of all the people in my life who have wished me ill, that woman was among the fiercest, and had the most cause. And while again she is in no way the basis for Buthayna, Cesco's actions in regard to her are. While railing against love, Cesco has fallen into Gianozza's trap, the one that will ensnare Romeo in years to come. He's in love with Love. The only cure for which is actually falling in love.

  As for the fate of Rosalia, a character I love nearly as much as Cesco does, alas, her destiny was clear to me when I was 17 years old and playing Mercutio for the first time. Performing the Queen Mab speech, with Shakespeare's words in my mouth, it was painfully clear to me that, more than talk of war or sex, it is the thought of childbirth that brings Mercutio to his most fevered pitch, his most lost and violent state. When talking of Queen Mab, he says, “This is the hag, that when maids lie upon their backs, presses them and learns them first to bear, making them women of good carriage. This is she that—”

  Romeo has to cut him off, crying, “Peace, Mercutio, peace. Thou talkst of nothing.”

  It's Mercutio's next lines that are his most heartfelt: “True. I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy.” There was a moment, once, when he'd dared to dream. But then the woman was brought to childbed, and the dream died. Rosalia was doomed years before I first set word to page.

  And now? Cesco leaves Verona's Arena for an even grander stage. Where is he headed? England? Arabia? Spain? Germany? While his choices are as boundless as the sea, there's a hint in the title of the next book. And as for what he's leaving behind, there are several clues written in the play itself, waiting to reveal themselves to eagle-eyed readers and open-eared theatre-goers.

  It's not just Cesco leaving Verona. It's me as well. After 15 years of living with a single place in my head, I'm off to explore the world outside Verona's walls. For me, it's a chance to research new places, introduce new faces, and bring Cesco through the experiences of a changing world – and give him the opportunity to change it even more.

  Cesco is Cesco no more. He is Mercutio. But he is also the Greyhound. What is his greatest deed? What happens three days before his stabbing in a street-brawl that will usher in a new age of Man? The play begins on a Sunday, he's stabbed on a Monday. What did Mercutio do on Friday? It will take both Shakespeare and history to answer.

  But all that is still far off. There remain untold adventures, dreadful triumphs, and wonderful disasters – though I hope nothing as dark as this book until the final volume, when he must return to play out his destiny. Until then, anything is possible.

  Anything but love.

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  Like my cast, the number of people I need to thank has grown with each succeeding novel. Unlike my cast, I am not trying to bump any of them off.

  First and foremost among them is my friend Anna Lerario, Veronese film-maker and soul of creativity and perseverance. Along with her husband Antonio Bulbarelli, Anna contacted me in 2013, having just completed her documentary about Cangrande. Wisely, she had refrained from reading my work until after her film was complete. But once she did read THE MASTER OF VERONA, she reached out to ask if she could use the title for the English language version of her film. Seeing the film, I agreed at once. I did a little work on the English translation for the film, and she
reciprocated by making a book trailer from the footage of her Veronese films. Suddenly we were thick as thieves, releasing a joint book/dvd edition of our works.

  Then Anna contacted Gianni La Corte at La Corte Editore, asking on my behalf if he'd be interested in publishing an Italian version of MoV. Gianni was enthusiastic from the start, and turned it around in record time. At the same time, Anna arranged for the city of Verona to pay my passage, so for the first time since my son was born Jan and I headed to Verona to see old friends and make new ones as we promoted the Italian release of my first novel. It was a dream come true.

  Through Anna and Antonio I met dignitaries and scholars, like the real Giovanni Rapelli, who went with us on our tour of Santa Maria in Stelle, curated by the charming Luigi Antolini. I met the cook Gioco, as well as the very real Yuri and Fabio – Yuri actually played Cangrande in Anna's film, so it was fun for me to put him into this book as one of Cesco's Rakehells. Certainly our nights out in Verona were memorable – or would be, if I hadn't drunk so deeply.

  Through Anna I also met Joyce Stewart, an American journalist and ex-pat living in the best apartment I have ever seen, a stone's throw from the Arena. We were lucky enough to be welcomed into her home for most of our stay.

  The exception was our night at La Foresteria, the apartments on the estate of the Serego-Alighieri family – an estate bought by Pietro in 1353. After a gap of twelve years, Jan and I were again able to interview the Count, this time for pleasure, not work. He told us marvelous stories of his father, and I was able to give him copies of all the novels I had written about his ancestor, including the newly-published Italian version of THE MASTER OF VERONA, rechristened IL CAVALIERE DELLA PROFEZIA DI DANTE.

  Other Veronese friends remain constant: Marina Bonomi, Antonella Leonardo, Rita Severi, and David Osborne. Closer to home, I have to thank Tara Sullivan, Rick Sordelet, my parents Al & Jill Blixt, Sharon Kay Penman, C.W. Gortner, M.J. Rose, Constance Cedras, Judith Testa, Alexandra LaCombe, Michael Denneny, Mary Matthews, and the redoubtable Joe Foust, the bravest man I know.

  Between the MSF company and the Patches, theatre continues to feed my soul, while giving me an endless supply of inside jokes. Truth is truth. In the face.

  My children inspire me, and bits of them have snuck into this book. Dash, Evie, forgive me.

  As ever, I could not have done this without my loving wife, Janice Lee. I have forgotten all their names, because they are not you.

  The next novel is entitled THE PRINCE'S DOOM.

  Ave,

  DB

  About the Author

  Consistently described as 'intricate,' 'taut,' and 'breathtaking', David Blixt's written work combines a love of theatre with a deep respect for the quirks and passions of history. His novels span the early Roman Empire (the COLOSSUS series, his play EVE OF IDES) to early Renaissance Italy (the STAR-CROSS'D series) up through the Elizabethan era with HER MAJESTY'S WILL. His latest novel, WHAT GIRLS ARE GOOD FOR: A NOVEL OF NELLIE BLY follows the early career of pioneering undercover journalist Nellie Bly as, fueled by outrage and compassion in equal measure, she breaks into the newspaper business and sets about her journey to the madhouse on Blackwell's Island.

  As an actor, David has made a career out of Shakespeare, with especial attention to Romeo & Juliet, in which he has played every major male role save Benvolio. Other favorite roles include Macbeth, Iachimo in Cymbeline, Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing, Mark Antony in Julius Caesar, Petruchio in The Taming of the Shrew, Leontes in The Winter's Tale, Kent in King Lear, and Orsino in Twelfth Night. David is the resident fight director for two Shakespeare companies, and for 8 years has taught stage combat at the Chicago High School For The Arts.

  David continues to write, act, and travel. He has ridden camels around the pyramids at Giza, been thrown out of the Vatican Museum and been blessed by Pope John-Paul II, scaled the Roman ramp at Masada, crashed a hot-air balloon, leapt from cliffs on small Greek islands, dined with Counts and criminals, climbed to the top of Mount Sinai, and sat in the Prince's chair in Verona's palace. But David is happiest at his desk, weaving tales of brilliant people in dire and dramatic straits.

  Living in Chicago with his wife and two children, David describes himself as “actor, author, father, husband. In reverse order.”

  www.davidblixt.com

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