Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story they belong to, my love, William Shakespeare.
Viola was walking along a beach. She was wet. Her dress weighed a hundred pounds. Her hair was stuck to her face. She had lost her shoes. Sufficient to say; she looked ghastly.
Viola could not say that she was upset about the Shipwreck. Sure, she was sorry for all those who had perished, but seeing as one of the unlucky passengers to sink to the depths of the ocean was her disgusting husband she couldn't help but smile a little. In fact, she dealt with her new found widowhood quite well. She even did a little dance, as she walked, thinking of how wonderful it was to be free and alone on this desert island.
It took her an hour, or so, to realise two things.
One: she had no food, no water, no shelter and no way to get dry and warm.
Two: She had no idea where she was or how to get back to London to her beloved playwright who may have heard of the shipwreck and be mourning her death this very minute. Or even killing himself, as his Romeo did, at word of his love's death.
These were two substantial worries to suddenly weigh on her mind. It was not as though she hadn't considered the impossibility of returning to England or of surviving for very long by herself in this strange place, but the euphoria she felt at the death of Lord Wessex had clouded her mind to anything else. Or at least, it did, until she heard the far off cry of some terrible wild beast and felt a cold shiver as the night drew in around her.
So she focussed all her thoughts on finding somewhere to sleep out of the wind. She was slightly successful, she found a part-cave-part-alcove of rock which didn't do a fantastic job of keeping the cold out but it was full of a host of splendid things.
It seemed that some old sailors had once lived in this same little nook and they had either died or left in a hurry because they had left all their things behind. There was a canvas bag full of old, tattered clothes, a long-dead camp fire, several empty crates and a fishing net.
Viola took off her soaking wet dress and hung it over the branch of a nearby tree which had long since deceased. Then she hung the fishing net over the entrance to her cave in a vain attempt to keep out any wild beasts. Then she put on the sailor's outfit that was the least torn, put her hair up in a bun to avoid its dampness making her neck cold and curled up under the canvas bag and the rest of the clothes.
She nearly froze that night. Her poor little feet were like ice when she woke up at around one in the morning and she was shivering from head to toe. Her hair wasn't even dry so she tried wrapping it up under a sailor's hat and she buried her feet in the sand.
The next time she woke up it was daylight and she felt like death. She wasn't even sure that she could get up and fetch her dress. In fact, Viola was fairly sure that the only thing she could possibly do was to go back to sleep.
Unfortunately she couldn't because somebody poked his head into the cave and said, "Hello! What have we got here?"
And Viola tried her level best to look at this intruder and tell him to leave her alone because she wanted to sleep but she couldn't seem to work out where his voice was coming from.
And then all of a sudden she was flying, flying through the air, and she was so sure she was going to be sick. Then she realised that she must be dead. Everything went very quiet and very dark.
Viola awoke suddenly as whoever had been carrying her lay her on something soft and covered her in something warm. She felt so safe and small that she could have curled up into a little ball and fallen asleep forever. But luckily she didn't do that. Instead she opened her eyes and looked about her. She was in a small room on a small bed. The curtains were open and daylight was shining through an open window.
A man came bustling in carrying a bowl.
"Oh, you're awake are you?" he said, placing the bowl by Viola's head and taking from it a cloth soaked in warm water to place on her forehead.
"I thank you, kind sir, but please, can you tell me where I am?"
"Why, in Illyria, and goodness me if you aren't a woman!"
Viola was confused on two parts, firstly she had never heard of the Illyria and secondly she couldn't fathom why this old man would think her a man.
"What do you mean by that sir?"
"Well, when my boys carried in a young man in sailor's attire and a sailor's hat."
Viola laughed, she really had to get this cross-dressing habit of hers under control.
"Can you tell me, which way to London please?"
"London! Goodness me, you won't get to London from here except by boat and the Duke and Lady Olivia own the only two boats big enough to travel that far and I doubt either will be willing to lend you one."
Viola sat up, something she really shouldn't have done as her head seemed to weigh a lot more than usual.
"But, sir, I must get to London, the love of my life is waiting there for me, he will surely think I have perished in the shipwreck."
"A shipwreck and true love? That's a nasty business miss."
"How can I gain the favour of this Duke or this lady?"
"The lady will see naught strangers, mam, and the Duke is a peculiarly melancholy soul."
"Is there any way I could get a job with him?"
"Not as a woman I'm afraid dear."
"Well," said Viola, "luckily I'm well versed in both genders."