Prologue
Denmark's Royal Family was dead. Even Laertes, who might have had a claim to the throne if he had known about Ophelia and Hamlet's clandestine wedding, was dead, killed by Hamlet's own sword. The tragedy of it all was almost more than I could bear. Although Hamlet's death was the one I felt most poignantly, Gertrude had been like a mother to me, even after she had married Claudius. My tears for my best friend mingled with my tears for the mother that he had come to despise. The world I had known had died with them. I had been raised at the castle under the protection of the royal family. Not only was the royal family dead, but the castle would be used as the seat of power for Fortinbras of Norway who would now rule Denmark. What was left for me? Well, I'll tell you. As Hamlet lay dying he expressed his regret that he would leave behind a name so tarnished and asked me to tell his story. That is exactly what I intend to do.