Page 5 of Love, Will

“Alone at last,” the lord said, and smiled. I smiled as well, not knowing what to say.

“How can I be of service, my Lord?” I asked, thinking that would be the most adequate question.

“I was left wondering about your play, Master Shakespeare, and when I wonder about something, I am tormented with finding the answer. Of course, in this case, the answers can only be given by the creator, so I hoped we could have a talk about your characters.” He was so proper and staring at me with big beautiful green eyes, like an eager child awaiting sweets.

“I would be honoured, my Lord,” I replied cheerfully. I felt beyond excited that an Earl had taken an interest in my work and it tormented him enough to wait for me and discuss. I did not deserve to feel so important. Even so, there I was, at dawn, inside the theatre, in the company of a lord who had questions for me.

“Why does Valentine decide to explore the world, but he only settles for Milan when there is so much more possibility?” His tone was sharp and direct, judging the character for its limitations and, with it, me.

“He was a simple man, my Lord, and simple men have little knowledge of the world. Take our country, for example. Many men will only go to the next town and think they have done enough travelling for the rest of their life. Simple men tend to settle in their time and place,” I said, hoping it would be a good enough answer for him.

“Are you saying this from your own experience, Master Shakespeare?” He pursed his lips, wanting to investigate.

“Partly yes, my Lord. I always base my characters on real life. It is inspired by myself and many men I encountered throughout my life.” I nodded low enough, as if to make a small bow.

“I do not know if I agree with Valentine wanting to give Sylvia away to Proteus because of their friendship. I believe that love is more important than friendship and should be kept at all costs. Why would he give his lover away?” He raised his eyebrows and looked at me with a judgmental eye.

I took a deep breath. I did not think about it as a character feature, but more of a dramatic one. Thinking that the audience would like the excitement. But I could not tell the lord that. I knew for certain my answer would disappoint him.

“I cannot answer that truthfully, my Lord.” After a few seconds of trying to search for a more dignified response, I had to embrace the truth. “It was designed as a stage effect. I was hoping for the public opinion to shift and keep them interested in the moment,” I confessed with shame.

“Oh yes, I have seen that some of them shouted at him not to do it,” he replied with excitement in his voice. Once again, that smile on his face reminded me of happiness, but it was also more than that. His chin lines were delicate and his lips looked soft. They would have been the perfect lips of a queen, and with every kiss she gave, she would take the soul of her lover as a punishment for daring to touch such perfection.

“How do you know how the play will look on the stage when you write it?”

He gazed at me with thirst, as though any word that came out of my mouth could be a valuable piece of information.

“I know the stage, since I started as an actor before I became a playwright and every time I write, I imagine how the actor would look on stage. Which entrance they will use and which side of the stage they will stay on. Also, I think about the decor and how we can set up the atmosphere.”

“It must be fascinating. Knowing the inside of a theatre,” he said longingly,with distant and lingering eyes, as if dreaming of it.

“If my Lord is interested in the theatre structure, the Queen’s Men would be more than honoured to have my Lord invited for a rehearsal and visit the theatre, empty and uninterrupted.”

He almost jumped with joy. “That would be wonderful,” he agreed with cheer and that smile, which had been caused by me, might as well be my truest achievement to date.

“My Lord, forgive me...” we heard a voice coming from the entrance.One of the call boys stood at the theatre door, holding the halter of a beautiful white horse that was visibly becoming anxious and started neighing.

“Thank you for your time and your answers, Master Shakespeare,” the Lord smiled widely yet again, causing my heart to burst out of my chest.

“Thank you, my Lord. I have thoroughly enjoyed your visit this evening,” I replied courteously.

He smiled again and bowed, then walked towards the main gate where he mounted and turned to leave, but not before nodding in my direction with a farewell short greeting.

I felt a sense of pride I never knew existed which accompanied me all the way to the tavern. It was time to celebrate and, following Richard’s tradition, I wanted to enjoy the company of a lady that night. I could only hope her lips would be as soft and as dream worthy as the Earl’s.

To my delight, after our initial conversation, the Earl did not stay away. Now that I knew him, I made a habit of searching for him in the upper galleries, where the lords and court members used to sit. Every time my eyes stumbled upon him, I saw him smile with delight, sometimes nodding his head slowly in a cordial greeting or other times blatantly raising his right hand in a salute towards my stage self.

It became a ritual; me trying to find the Earl as soon as the curtain opened and him, signaling his position from the crown as quickly as he could. We shared a dance this way, one that only he and I could hear the music to, one that only the two of us could take part in. A sway of stolen looks and smiles, silent nods and waves, a way of communicating that kept us connected. The days when the Earl did not come to the theater painted my feelings grey, but I noticed that most of the time, he honoured me with his presence during my own plays. I dared hope they were his favourite.

This prancing back and forth did not go unnoticed by the other actors and made me gain a fair share of mockery, where my colleagues bowed towards me as if I were a lord myself or when Richard could not stop telling the story of how an Earl was an admirer of “the great Will Shakespeare, once call boy, now actor and playwright.”

On that particular crisp morning day, we just finished practicing the play and got ready to go for our dinner, when Master Burbage interrupted our cheer and announced a guest. “Queen’s Men, meet the Earl of Southampton,” he said proudly.

We all bowed, and I felt Richard’s mocking look on my back. I knew he was going to slide his jokes again for at least another month, but I did not care because the Earl’s visit delighted me. I had made the invitation as a courtesy a while back and did not expect he would take up my offer and appear one day in the middle of rehearsals. I felt happiness and a warm feeling in my stomach, which weighed heavier than pride.

“Apologies for the interruption,” the Earl said. “I received an invitation to one of your rehearsals as Master Shakespeare is very generous.” He smiled at me, looking me straight in the eyes while slightly bowing. And I knew he had done it just for me.

I blushed.Why was I blushing?I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I knew my face was turning red, but no matter how slowly I drew breath trying to stop it; it was all in vain. My face turned as pink as a newborn and the Earl could clearly see it.

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