The Shakespeare Code
This I disclaim: Alas, Doctor Who, I own not. Nor couldst Shakespeare be claimed rightfully mine own.
To be, or not to be, that is the question. Weeelll... More of A question really. Not THE question. Because, well, I mean, there are billions and billions of questions out there, and well, when I say billions, I mean, when you add in the answers, not just the questions, weeelll, you're looking at numbers that are positively astronomical and... for that matter the other question is what you lot are doing on this planet in the first place, and er, did anyone try just pushing this little red button? - Neil Giamen, commenting on David Tennant's Hamlet.
Chapter 1: Love Never Did Run Smooth
Wiggins had many reasons to be excited. While his friends had been down the theatre and the cock fighting pits, he'd spent many evenings spent scribbling with quill and parchment by candlelight, thinking only of the woman of his affections. Now, he finally had the right song with which to woo her. He stood outside her house, playing his lute and singing:
"Her face was like a winter's moon that lights the traveller's way.
Her smile was like a summer bloom that bursts then fades away.
My love is night, my love is day.
My love she is my world."
Just as he'd hoped, he looked up to see Lilith beaming at him from her bedroom window. "Such sweet music shows your blood to be afire. Why wait we on our stale custom for consummation?" She said, beckoning him in, and closing the window.
"Oh yes! Perhaps tonight's the night!" He grinned, hurrying forward. The door swung open before him as though fate was drawing him on. He hurried up the stairs, two at a time, and found her waiting at the curtain leading to her lodgings.
"Would you be bold to enter sir?"
"Oh I would!" He hurried straight past her, and immediately drew up short. Inside, was a darkened room, lined with ugly masks, straw dolls, hideous looking daggers and chains, and live animals, kept here and there. "Lilith, this cannot be the house of one so beautiful. Forgive me, but this is foul."
"Hush my love." She placed a hand, lovingly, on his cheek. "Sad words suit not upon a lovers tongue."
She pulled him in and kissed him deeply. Wiggins was momentarily calmed. But it only lasted until he drew away for air, only to leap back in fright. Her once beautiful face had transformed into a hideous, wrinkled monstrosity. With jagged teeth, yellow eyes, and unkempt, wiry hair. "Oh! Your kiss transformed me. A suitor should meet his parents." She grinned. "Mother Doomfinger!"
Hearing a cackling, he spun round to see a woman, even more hideous than Lilith, where there had been none stood before.
"And mother bloodtide!"
Another such figure appeared, hanging effortlessly from the ceiling.
Wiggins barely had time to process what was happening. All those stories he'd been told about women who would use supernatural forces for malicious ends were true! He'd walked straight into a witch's house! He didn't even have any time to form a fight of flight response, before the witches pounced on him, tearing him apart.
Lilith had a careful look at his guts and smiled. "Soon, at the hour of woven words, we shall rise again, and this fleeting Earth will perish! Bwahahahahahaha!"
Like Wiggins, Martha too had been presented with a lot to take in at once. Having been transported to the moon in the middle of her lunch break and been saved by this time travelling alien, who called himself the Doctor. And she'd saved him in return. As a result, he'd agreed to take her on a quick trip somewhere. To say her head was full of questions, would overestimate the size of her head.
"But what about jabs?" She said, as she gripped the console while the floor rocked unsteadily beneath her.
"Jabs?" Said the Doctor, as he tried to adjust the manual stabiliser.
"Yeah, like when you go abroad. To protect you from local diseases."
"Oh, you soak up some background radiation when you travel through time. Boosts your immune system. It's convenient like that."
"But how does it travel through time?"
"Oh, let's not take the fun and mystery out of everything." As he continued fiddling with the controls on one panel, he reached for a lever two panels over with his foot. "Hold tight!"
He kicked and the TARDIS almost seemed to somersault as it came to a halt, throwing Martha to the floor. "Blimey!" She said. "Do you have to take a test to fly this thing?"
"Yes, and I failed." He said, pulling on a coat. "Now, make the most of it. Because I promised you one trip, and one trip only. Outside this door, brave new world."
"Where are we?" Martha grinned.
"Take a look."
Martha hurried past him, out the door. Outside, was a narrow cobbled street, lined with wood and straw buildings. People were milling here and there in Tudor dress. "Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me. Oh, my God, we did it. We travelled in time! Where are we? No, sorry. I got to get used to this whole new language. When are we?"
The Doctor pulled her back, a second before a bowlful of human waste fell through the spot she was just standing in. "Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that."
Martha took a look down at the street, which was dotted with small lumps of poo, soaked up by straw and washed into the gutter at the centre of the street. Even more disgustingly, children were playing in it. "I've seen worse. Late night on A and E." She shrugged. The Doctor made his way forward, careful not to tread on anything. Martha followed. "But is it OK though, is it safe? I mean, can we move around?"
"Of course, why do you ask?"
"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race!"
The Doctor frowned. "Tell you what: don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"
"But what if I... I don't know... kill my granddad?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning to?"
"No..."
"Well then."
Martha hurried on, looking round excitedly. "And this is London!" So different from her time.
"Yes. London around... 1599."
Something else occurred to Martha. "Hold on. Am I alright. Not going to get carted off as a slave am I?" She looked uncertainly at the locals around her.
"Why would they do that?" Said the Doctor.
"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed."
"I'm not even human. Just walk around as if you own the place. Works for me. Besides, London in 1599, not so different from your time." He pointed to a couple of black women who were walking freely through the street and no one batted an eyelid. The idea of skin colour indicating inferiority hadn't quite filtered through to the British Isles at this time.
As they walked, they passed by a man collecting dung. "Look, you've got recycling." Said the Doctor.
Next, they passed a couple who were chatting, by a water barrel. "Water cooler moment."
At the first junction they came to, a man was preaching passionately with a Bible in the air. "And the world shall be consumed by flame!"
"And global warming." Said the Doctor, before a new idea hit him. "Oh, yes, and entertainment. Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark, right next to..." He let the thought hang and grabbed Martha by the hand, leading her through the windy streets, until they reached... "The Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon. Fourteen sides. Containing the man himself."
"Oh you don't mean... Is Shakespeare in there!" Said Martha, struggling to reconcile that Shakespeare, right now, was an actual person, walking around.
"Oh yes!" The Doctor offered her an arm. "Miss Jones, will you accompany me to the theatre?"
"Mr Smith, I would be delighted!"
"You could go home and tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."
"Then I could get sectioned."
The play on that night, was Love's Labours Lost. Now four years old. The richest Londoners were sat in the balconies, surrounding the courtyard. But the Doctor and Martha were right down in the crowds, standing to watch the performers on the stage, which extended right into the centre of them.
And it was all authentic. No one trying to imitate Elizabethan actors. These were the real thing. Complete with all the female parts played by men in dresses ("London never changes." The Doctor muttered.)
As the actors took their final bow, Martha applauded wildly. "Amazing. Simply amazing. Worth putting up with the smell. But where's Shakespeare, I wanna see Shakespeare." She raised her arm. "Author! Author!" Before dropping it suddenly. "Do people shout that? Do they shout author?"
"Author! Author!" A man who'd overheard her shouted. A few around him joined in, followed by those around them. Before long, the whole crowd was chanting it.
"They do now." The Doctor shrugged.
Their cries didn't go unnoticed. The stage door opened and a man stepped through. He looked a lot different to his portraits, but the roar of the crowd and the shear amount of presence he held told them this was the man himself.
Back in the crowd, the Doctor leaned down to Martha. "Genius. He's a genius. The genius. The most human, human there's ever been. Now we're going to hear him speak. Always he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words." He'd often claimed to have met Shakespeare to impress or confuse beings, but only now had he finally got round to actually hearing from the man in person.
"Ah, shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare shouted, to much laughter.
"Oh well." The Doctor frowned.
"Never meet your heroes." Martha grinned.
"You've got excellent taste, I'll grant you that." Shakespeare said, before pointing to a man near the front. "Oh! That's a wig!"
So focused were the crowds on the great playwright that none of them paid much attention to Lilith, sat in a private section by herself, stroking the doll in her hands.
"Wind the craft of ancient harm.
The time approaches for our charm."
" I know what you're all saying. Loves Labour's Lost, that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops. Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius."
Lilith recognised the right time and kissed the head of the doll. As expected, Shakespeare stumbled back as though he'd been smacked in the face.
He shook himself for a moment as he thought of what he was going to say. "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it Love's Labours Won!"
The crowd cheered, Martha clapped along, until she looked to her right and saw that the Doctor looked less pleased. He was clearly deep in thought.
"I'm no expert or anything, but I've never heard of Love's Labours Won." Said Martha, as they filed out.
"Exactly. The lost play. It doesn't exist, only in rumours. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And no one knows why." Said the Doctor.
"Do you have a mini disk or something? We could flog it when we get home." Said Martha.
The Doctor seemed to consider the idea for a moment, before discarding it. "No."
"No. That would be bad." Martha agreed. "So how come it disappeared in the first place?"
The Doctor thought for a moment. "Well... I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."
In one of the more spacious lodging rooms of the Elephant inn, Shakespeare and his two lead actors, Burbage and Kempe, were sat round a table lined with tallow candles, looking over the scripts. Dolly, the land lady, knew they'd be up late into the morning and had decided to help out. She carried in a tray with several tumblers of beer. " Here you go, Will. Drink up. There's enough beer in this lodgings house to sink the Spanish."
"Dolly Bailey, you saved my life." Shakespeare smiled.
"I'll do more than that later." She grinned, before pointing to a corner where Lilith was mopping the floor. "And you, girl, hurry up with your tasks. The talk of gentlemen is best not overheard."
"Yes maam. Sorry." The witch said meekly.
"You must be mad Will." Said Burbage. "Love's Labours Won? It's not ready. It's not due till next week."
"You haven't even finished it yet." Kempe added.
"There's just a couple more scenes." Said Shakespeare. "You'll have it in the morning."
At this point, the Doctor knocked on the open door. "Hello! Excuse us for interrupting. It's Mr Shakespeare isn't it?"
Shakespeare rubbed his forehead. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove..." He faltered as Martha appeared behind him, grinning eagerly. "Hey nonny nonny! Come and sit down next to me. You two, get to your sewing costumes. Off you go."
"Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse." Dolly shooed them out.
"Sweet lady." Shakespeare nodded at her, just to let her know he wouldn't forget about her. Then he turned to Martha. "Such unusual clothes. So, fitted."
"Er, verily." Said Martha. "Forsooth. Egads." To which Shakespeare gave her confused looks.
"Don't do that. Realy, don't." Said the Doctor. He pulled out his psychic paper. "I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS. This is my companion, miss Martha Jones."
Shakespeare frowned. "Interesting that bit of paper. It's blank."
The Doctor grinned. "Oh, that is clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."
Martha and Shakespeare gave him quizzical looks, but for entirely opposite reasons. "No, it says right there. Sir Doctor of TARDIS." Martha squinted at the paper.
"And I say blank." Shakespeare wondered if this was some sort of joke.
"Psychic paper. Long story. Blimey it's hard starting over." The Doctor said.
"Psychic?" Said Shakespeare. "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"
Martha went wide eyed. "What did you say?"
"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?"
"I can't believe I'm hearing this..."
"Political correctness gone mad!" The Doctor said quickly, knowing Shakespeare was only using the language of his time. "Martha's from a far off land, Freedonia."
"Excuse me!" Announced an angry voice. They all turned to see a man in expensive, well kept clothes stood in the doorway. "Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behaviour! A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed!"
"Tomorrow morning. I'll send it round, first thing." Said Shakespeare.
"I don't work to your scedule. You work to mine." The man snorted. "The script. Now!"
"I can't!"
"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled!"
"It's all go around here, isn't it?" Said Martha.
"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love's Labours Won will never be played!"
Lilith was listening quietly from the hallway. As the man turned on his heel to leave, she hurried ahead of him, jumped the railing by the stairs and floated down to street level without anyone seeing. Hearing him coming down the stairs, she waited until he neared the bottom, before stepping up and "accidentally" colliding with him. "Oh, sorry, sir. Begging your pardon, sir." She leaned in and slid an arm round his shoulders. "Mind you don't hurt that handsome head of yours." She ran a finger through his hair.
"Hold hard, wanton woman!" He shook her arm away, accidentally taking some hair with it. He looked around and saw that, indeed, no one was looking. "I shall return later." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Lilith hurried over to a quiet corner and attached the hairs to her doll. She opened up a telepathic link with her mothers. "Oh, my mothers. There is one who seeks to stop the performance tomorrow."
"But it must be tomorrow!" Cried Doomfinger.
"Love's Labours Won must be performed." Said Bloodtide.
"Fear not." Said Lilith. "Chant with me."
"Water damps the fiercest flame.
Drowns out boys and girls the same."
She dropped the doll in a bucket of water. Down in the courtyard, the man halted where he was and clutched at his throat, wrenching.
Martha and the Doctor had decided to have a drink before they left. Shakespeare was telling them about the man, Lynley, and his endless meddling. He'd repeatedly cut funding to the plays, then taken them down when audiences had naturally declined, but never connected those two points.
"Well, I guess that explains Love's Labours Won." Said Martha. "I was thinking it would be something more... mysterious than that."
As if on cue, several women screamed from out in the courtyard, followed by cries for help. The three of them hurried that way.
Out in the courtyard, Lynley was very clearly choking, but making very strange noises. He gagged and a stream of water shot out of his mouth. Another followed seconds later.
"Let me through, I'm a Doctor!" He pushed through the ring of onlookers.
"So am I, near enough." Said Martha.
Lilith and her mothers, meanwhile, were still chanting.
"Now to halt the vital part.
Stab the flesh, and stop the heart."
She stuck a pin in the doll's heart. "Eternal sleep is thine." She pulled the head off.
Lynley collapsed, dead. Martha put her ear to his chest, but heard no heartbeat. "Mr Lynley, can you hear me? You're going to be alright. Got to get the heart going." She tried compressing his chest, but still more water shot out. And still his mouth was full of the stuff. "What is that?"
The Doctor looked him over. "I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water. He drowned on land. And then, I don't know, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow."
Lilith listened, curiously, from an upstairs window. Who were these people?
The Doctor stood and got Dolly's attention "Good mistress, this man died from a sudden imbalance of the humours. A rare death, but natural. Call a constable and have him taken away."
"And why are you telling them that?" Said Martha.
"This lot have only just got out of the dark ages. If I tell them the truth, they'll think it was witchcraft."
"And what was it really?"
"Witchcraft."