Page 39 of Love, Will

My friend stopped for a few seconds, debating whether to tell me, “He is back,” Richard breathed while swallowing hard.

I knew whom he meant.

“I know. He wrote to me,” I replied, the words barely exiting my mouth.

“Are you going to go see him?”

“I don’t plan to,” I replied dryly.

Richard nodded in approval. We left the room talking nonsense, and I said goodbye to the men, letting them rehearse for the morning. I would come back the next day to join them, but not as an actor. That part of me died with Hamnet. I could not find the power to pretend any longer, not when every single image I had looking at the stalls was of Henry; eating a peach, licking his lips, talking to another nobleman, raising his hands in applause, smiling at me, hiding his tears. I would not relive the past. It weighed too heavy on my heart.

So I went back into my room and tried to write, an act that happened fairly seldom in the past few months. I did not find inspiration for a story, but managed to concoct a monologue about death and failure which I ended up using later on in my playHamlet. While I reread my production of the day, I heard knocks on my door and when I looked out the window, I realised it was very dark outside, so I assumed Richard had come to see me after the play and take me to an inn or a brothel to talk more.

“Am I not allowed a single night on my own?” I said half joking, while opening the door. Immediately, my smile faded. It was Henry, standing at my door, dressed so regally I almost did not recognize him.

“I apologise,” he barely said. His travels had changed him, his expression grave and face pale, the red velvet tunic he wore made his blanched appearance even more faded, his lips coral instead of bright rose.

“Earl,” I replied stupidly. Somehow, saying his name did not seem right.

“May I come in?” he pressed on the door, trying to pull it completely open.

I stepped aside, allowing him to do so. He slowly closed it after he madeway into the room and sat on the bed. I took a few steps back from him and sat on my writing chair,poured a glass of wine and offered it to him. While he accepted it, our fingers barely touched on the cup. Instantly, shivers of longing ushered through me as I remembered his lips stained with wine, my own kissing them softly, the sweetness of his tongue. I shook my head, trying to wake myself up from daydreaming.

“Everything alright?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, but I was sure he already knew.

I sat again on my chair, the furthest away from him as the small room allowed me to.

“How can I be of assistance?” I cordially asked.

“Will…” he said dejectedly. “Please don’t.”

I remained silent and swallowed hard, puckering my lips and not knowing what to say, not wanting to say anything more.

He took the lead in the conversation.

“I had to return hastily from Italy,” Henry uttered. Even his voice wore a different tonality, a graver and brasher one. He had returned home a man.

I nodded. “I have learnt so from your letter.”

“The letter you did not respond to?” he asked accusingly.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Elizabeth is pregnant,” my lover blurted out. Could I even call him that still?

I sighed. He was going to be a father. My Earl, my love, was going to have to marry and be a father.

I nodded again, looking down at my feet, focusing on a dirty spot on my shoe.

“The Queen is angry, as you can imagine. She did not know of us, there wasn’t even an us when I left for Italy, we’ve only been together a couple times…”

“That is enough with a woman,” I exclaimed without realizing.

“I know,” he sighed. And continued to do so. I raised my gaze to look at him, study him and his reactions and spotted a single tear coming down his cheek, accompanied by anguish in his eyes and regret across his body. I fought the instant urge to hug him and hold him in my arms.

“I am losing it all, Will. All I wanted, to explore the world, the chance to be a knight. I will have to stay at court and be a father and a husband,” he gasped.

“We are about to lose the theatre,” I told him my own bad news, trying to compensate for his, hoping it would make him forget his troubles for at least a few seconds.

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