IV. Doubt

The weeks pass, as they often do, and we head toward summer. This morning, the air is bright and cool. I am, once again, in the gardens. I find it very peaceful here. If it would not be much trouble, I may bring my reading here, although I fear my father may not approve. He loves me, but there is little of which he approves.

As I make my way away from the outer wall of the gardens, I see a man standing a little ways up the path ahead. His head is bowed and he is very still; he seems to be lost in his own contemplations. Not wanting to disturb him, I turn to walk along a different route, but he lifts his head and stares in my direction.

It is the king's brother.

I drop into a curtsey. "I apologize, your Highness," I murmur, "I did not mean to disturb you."

His impassive expression lightens with a kindly smile. "No fear, child," he replies, "you have caused me no pain."

I rise from my curtsey and bow my head to excuse myself. "I shall not impede on you any longer," I say quickly.

Just as I am about to leave, he calls me back.

"One moment, child," he says.

"Yes?"

His eyes narrow as he searches my face. "You are Ophelia, are you not? Lord Polonius' daughter?"

"Yes, my lord."

I have only ever seen the king's brother from a distance. I have never exchanged words with him before. I am uncertain of how to act. Prince Claudius has a royal air about him, one charged with a majestic power and intelligence. He is so very much like the king.

"May I request my lady's permission to walk with her?"

I pause, suddenly chilled. Walk with one of the most powerful and important men in the kingdom? In my nervousness, I blurt out an affirmative answer before I have made up my mind.

We wander quickly through the gardens; the king's brother has a long and powerful stride. I do not mind the brisk pace; it is cool this morning and a cloak is not enough to conserve warmth.

"I hope I have not startled you, my lady," the king's brother says as we walk. "I do realize that this is the first time I have spoken to you."

"I am not that easily startled my lord," I answer quickly.

He chuckles. "Lady Ophelia, your nervousness is as clear as the morning sky. Please, do not cloak your sentiments on my behalf simply because I am a member of the royal family. If you are startled, I apologize sincerely."

He smiles kindly at me, a smile that I timidly return.

"What is it that my lord wishes to discuss," I ask as we turn a corner in the paved pathway, "if anything at all?"

"Is my lady interested in decent conversation?" he replies.

"If by decent conversation, you imply a discussion outside the realms of courtier gossip, I shall do my best."

We stop. He is looking at me with incredulity.

"Courtier gossip?"

I feel that he is surprised not by my words, but by the fact that I have mentioned it in the first place.

"Surely the comings and goings of the nobles are not of an interesting note," I defend myself. "Unfortunately, most of the ladies feel gossip's keen whisper when we are all attending our afternoon embroidery. I have no love for it."

"Indeed." He regards me curiously.

I must have piqued his interest. We continue to walk as I ramble on, unable to control my own tongue as I find myself uncertain of what to do in Prince Claudius' presence.

"Between you and me, my lord," I say, "aristocratic society finds the most frivolous things to take interest in. I believe we must apply our minds in more beneficial ways than discussing the rumours of a certain lord's latest conquests, or the state of dress of a certain lady."

The king's brother looks thoughtful for a moment. "So that is what you women engage in when the men are not present."

I stare at him in disbelief. For a moment, my look of shock registers on my face and Prince Claudius bursts into deep-throated laughter. My cheeks flush with embarrassment as I realize the purpose of his statement.

"A joke," I say, moving onward down the path on my own.

He follows. "Yes, my lady."

"I apologize for my reaction."

"I apologize for the poor words and lack of humour."

He says it with such straight-faced honesty that a laugh comes to me, unbidden.

"In all honesty," Prince Claudius says, "I have never had a good grasp of humour. That has always belonged to my nephew. Some days he seems more wordsmith than prince."

A light smile touches my lips. "The prince is a learned man. Scholarship brings him joy in this world."

"As it does you," the king's brother replies.

"My lord?"

"If you'll forgive my remarks," he tells me placidly, "you are the only lady who frequents the library."

"In that I see no wrong, sir," I reply defensively. "My interests lie outside the casual entertainments of the court."

"I do not accuse you of your scholarship, my lady," Prince Claudius says. "In fact, I commend you for it."

I lower my head in thanks.

"I see my nephew has had a great impression on you."

I raise my eyes and look at him as his gaze searches my face. I cannot help but wonder whether the king's brother is inquiring into the extent of my relationship with the prince. Many in court who had seen us together wondered; over the past months, I have worked hard to abolish those suspicions. I am not ready for it to be common knowledge within the fire trap of the court. Until I am – given the prince returns – I will remain "chaste" and "virtuous" Ophelia.

Prince Claudius steps back. "Have I insulted you in some way, my lady?" he asks, unsure of my clouded expression.

I am quick to respond. "No, my lord. Forgive me." Feeling lost and the sting of embarrassment on my cheeks, I curtsey quickly, uncertain of what to do. As I come up, I clear my throat and speak. "The prince is… was… a good friend. In our conversations, he opened my mind to many possibilities. One could say that he is responsible for my interest in the art of the written word."

"Believe me, my lady," the king's brother says, "that much is plainly evident." There is sincerity in his eyes. "There is a certain air about those who prefer the company of manuscripts to the company of men. There are glimpses of that air about you."

I frown. I cannot quite understand the implications of that statement. "Perhaps one must have that air to see it within others," I counter.

"Perhaps."

I am surprised; I expected him to contradict me. The next question is past my lips before I even contemplate its meaning.

"Then are you one to prefer the company of manuscripts, my lord?"

The king's brother laughs. It is a type of laugh I have heard many a time – one delivered when I am thought to be a silly, young girl.

And perhaps I am just that: a silly, young girl.

"Alas, no," Prince Claudius says, chuckling still at my question. "My interests lie in the material world rather than the philosophical one."

"Why is that, my lord?" I ask. "The philosopher strives to understand human nature. Certainly that brings them closer to others. As a member of the royal family you are positioned to help the people of this country. Surely the first step would be to understand the people who live here."

He is laughing again. Perhaps he thinks me naïve.

"You should be congratulated on your idealism, my lady," he says. "What a speech of innocence! The world, unfortunately, is not so simple. Philosophy is powered by the mind, but the mind is not enough to lead a country. What man can rule if he is not present?"

I stir briefly at this remark. It bothers me, but I thrust my feelings aside and listen has he continues.

"Philosophies withdraw the mind from where it is needed the most," the king's brother explains. "A majority of those who need a leader cannot be lead by a man controlled by high and lofty ideas. Leaders cannot look to their minds alone. They need heart and soul to rule; otherwise they will become incomprehensible to those they are attempting to lead. That is why I fear I can never be a scholar. I cannot abandon my heart or my soul so readily."

He pauses. We have come to the end of our promenade, having come full circle around the gardens.

Prince Claudius turns to me, his eyes looking directly into mine. "I tell you this now, Lady Ophelia," he says gravely, "because I believe your young mind requires another point of view. I will not be king. I will never be king. When my good brother passes on from this world – and may that be many years from now – it will be my nephew who will be elected into office, as is his right. Even so, I will do my best to honour the conduct of a man who makes a truly great king and leader, as respect for the family into which I was born."

With that, he nods his head in thanks for my company, and departs. I curtsey and watch as he walks regally up the steps and into the castle. Once he is gone, my mind returns to his earlier comment. What man can rule if he is not present? Why would the king's brother tell me, of all people, such a thing?

It is now that I wish, more than ever, that the prince would return from his studies. He is not present… and his uncle speaks with truth. How can he hope to rule if he is never here, if he constantly puts what he loves most over what is necessary of him?

What is to become of us if he never returns to me? Does he still love me, as I love him, or does his passion subside as the months pass?

I am disturbed by my own thoughts and I immediately seek out two of the queen's ladies-in-waiting – Adelaide and Fernanda – of whom I have sought friendship over the many months I have been here. Their happy babble of courtier gossip provides a relieving distraction from my thought-weary mind. As a result, I spend the rest of my day in their company, glad of the distractions.

However, one cannot run forever from their lingering thoughts. As if by fate, this evening a messenger seeks me out and I receive the letter for which I have long waited. My fingers grasp the cold, rough parchment and I can feel my heart begin to race.

Is it only by chance that I should receive this letter now, just as the lingerings of doubt about him settle into my mind?

I flee to my rooms where I can read the letter in private.