Shakespeare's Lady by Alexa Schnee

Author:Alexa Schnee
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Shakespeare’s Lady
ISBN: 9780824945282
Publisher: Guideposts
Published: 2012-03-26T04:00:00+00:00

AFTER THE PLAY WAS over, William and I went down to the stage. Everyone who hadn’t congratulated him before the play did so now, and we were swarmed with people from every class. Shakespeare treated them all with kindness. He was modest about his plays; there was always a bit of doubt in his voice when he thanked the spectators. They would tell him it was excellent, and he would nod hesitantly, as if deciding whether they were right.

“Excellent, Master Shakespeare.” A man in garb nearly as fine as Essex’s patted him on the back. “You must put on another soon.”

“I will if I can actually get it written,” William joked.

I hid farther away, nearer the edge of the stage. I did not want anyone to assume that I was more than an acquaintance. William looked back at me a few times, but I could not walk over. I let him enjoy his moment.

Some people asked who I was—mostly the dwellers of the upper classes—and he replied the same every time. I was simply Emilia. I was not a former mistress to one of the most influential men in England, not the daughter of the king’s musician. I was not married to the queen’s favorite harpist. I was just Emilia. It was insulting and liberating at the same time.

I froze when I thought I saw Henry Carey with his wife shuffling toward the door. I turned away. If he saw me here, I was sure to die of shame. I hid my face from the crowd trailing toward the exit. After a few moments, I peeked under my hand to see a broad back facing me. He was leading a robust woman wearing fine lace through the door. I did not know if it was Henry, but I could not have been more relieved that he did not recognize me if indeed it were he.

Once the theatre cleared out, it was just him and me—William and Emilia. We looked out onto the now-empty seats and pit where crowds had stood. The once-busy building was now quiet. I stood next to the cannon, the one that had caused William’s appearance that day at my house.

“So.” He smiled mischievously. He pointed to an intricately carved piece of wood. “What is this?”

I recognized the game we had played at court. It seemed so long ago. Back then, this piece of wood would have been a simple stick. Henry Carey’s money had served them well.

“The scepter of England,” I replied after some time. “It has been shipped from Rome by the pope for the king’s coronation—a gift, if you will. The handle”—I picked up the prop—“is solid gold, and the cross on the top was a pendant on a necklace His Holiness wore around his neck. His alliance is supposed to be with France, but he would like to see the young country—and its young king—succeed.”

I waited for a response from William, but I received none. He was looking at me, and just me.

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