Page 46 of Love, Will

“...as it would be honourable for a former patron towards his artist,” I added quickly, knowing propriety would force him to accept my request.

He nodded and walked towards the open doors which lead in the massive garden, without waiting or looking back to see if I followed him. He walked decisively towards the fountain and stopped two steps next to it, clearly wanting the sound of the water to mask our conversation from any prying ears.

When I reached him, he did not look in my direction and asked, “What more do you want from me?”

“I beg your pardon,” I replied, puzzled. I had hoped that his coldness towards me was merely an act for the court, not a reality.

“Why are you haunting me, Will?” he asked, this time turning his head slightly to look in my direction.

“Henry, I missed you so much. I have suffered so while you were away,” I murmured.

“Suffered? You have suffered?” He looked at me with contempt. “You do not know what suffering is,” he uttered slowly.

“Henry please, I just want...” I tried to say while raising my hand to touch him but he shoved it away, taking a step back.

“You will be careful now,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “You will respect me!” he threatened.

I had never seen this side of him, harbouring so much hate and, for some reason, it was directed towards me. I realized that no matter what I said or did in that moment would not sway him, so I thanked him for his time and returned to the men to help set the stage.

The night passed painfully slowly, placing me behind the curtain for hours on end, watching the Earl move from one conversation to another and sipping heavily from his golden goblet. I watched his wine stained lips and only survived through the evening from memories of their softness and delicate taste.

“To the King’s Men,

The King will honour me with his presence at my residence in Titchfield next week and I am extending the invitation to his loyal theatre company, whom we hope will entertain us for a night with a lovely new play.

As a sign of my gratitude for your travel, I offer double the rate and will send some horses to aid your journey.

With thanks,

Henry Wriothesley

Third Earl of Southampton”

I offered to travel with the men even though I was no longer acting andinsisted they playedLove Labour’s Lostin the King’s honour. Since it was a comedy, they did not protest much and started rehearsing immediately, wanting to make a great impression on His Majesty and his guests.

Within three days, we were on the road towards the home Henry and I shared for over a year. I recognized the tree lines, the rivers and even remembered what were the best inns to stop at. When we arrived, the villa was crammed with nobles and servants, all fussing around to find their place or a partner to talk to.

Several footmen who had attended me while living there came to aid us with stage equipment and costumes, some of them recognizing me and greeting my return with a silent nod.

We received accommodation in one of the rooms on the third floor and were told to prepare for a performance the next evening. Food and drink constantly flowed while we prepared, only this time it did not arrive with a note from the lord of the house.

I was drowning in memories, smells I recognized around the house that woke up vivid images of how happy my life used to be with the Earl under this very roof, but I remained silent and helped the men as best I could.

The performance was a success, and the King laughed so hard he spilled his wine several times. The nobles were cheerful and content after our play, chatting and laughing while heading for the dining room. We decided to clear the stage and head back to London early the next morning, so we stayed up until late hours of the night setting all costumes and prompts back into place, ready for travel.

Once we finished, the men headed upstairs to rest for a few hours while I expressed my creative desire and told them I would stay and write for a while. So I remained behind, on my own, listening to the laughter and cheer crossing through from the dining room. I could distinguish Henry’s laughter from the rest and I felt joy and peace. He was finally achieving his wish of being an important member at court.

I decided to go for a walk around the house, aware of my movements and keeping away from the rooms I knew were for entertaining, and decided to visit my old room, which was now probably housing a lord and his lady. I walked through the halls, caressing the walls I passed by so many times, envisioning a happy Henry walking up and down, always in a hurry, always too young to take a break.

“I would ask if you were lost, but I know that is not the case,” I heard a voice coming from the hallway entrance. I would recognize it amongst a thousand others, so it was not a surprise to see the owner of the house staring at me when I turned.

I smiled sadly. “Memories, I was just collecting them.”

“Why did you choose that play for tonight?” he asked.

“I thought it would be fitting.” I smiled again.

Henry looked at me and I stared back at him, both remembering the nights when I read that same play to him and he had laughter attacks. He always said it was my best comedy and would sometimes even recite it to me, particularly when I had done something foolish.

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