Trigger Warning: At the start of the chapter a man assaults a woman. It is not sexual, though there is an element of threat. The violence is minimal; the abuse is more verbal and rough-handling.
The sound of John's fading footsteps ring hollow through Hero's ribcage. She stands motionless, a chill creeping along her skin. In the distance there comes the warped echo of the celebrations continuing without them. Heat prickles behind her eyes as she draws a shaking breath. The night breeze stirs around her, tousling her curls. A cloud slinks over the moon, sheathing it in shadow.
Shivering, Hero stumbles forwards —
An iron hold closes around her arm and she careens into darkness. Her back crashes into stone. Her shriek is silenced as a hand clamps over her mouth.
"Vixen." Hero thrashes, pinned by a weight as hard and unforgiving as a tomb slab. Through the gloom, she discerns Claudio's face contorted above her in rage. "You beguile the Prince with your fair charms, then cuckold him with his bastard brother!"
Claudio crushes her into the wall, her skin scraping against stone, his grasp bruising. She smacks his arm with her free hand but he presses closer, her blows are ineffective. Her legs quake, unable to move.
"You deceiving minx. Is this the traitor's new scheme? You wed the Prince then your treacherous lover steals his throne? You loathsome Delilah!"
Claudio jerks her chin with such force her teeth rattle and she knocks her head. Violet bursts across her vision and her eyes sting. Her cries are smothered under Claudio's musky palm. This close, she can smell the wine thick upon him.
"Why, Hero?!" His voice comes agonised, the whites of his eyes shimmering in the dark. "You seemed to me as Dian in her orb. As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown. But you are more intemperate in your blood than Venus, or those pamper'd animals that rage in savage sensuality. You hide your fangs well, but the venom runs cold in your veins."
Hero shakes her head, sobbing.
"Do you deny it?" He tightens his hold around her arm, her fingers prickling from the blood-loss. "Oh shameless succubus. Oh wicked siren. Most foul, most fair. You would lure the good Prince to his destruction with your insidious charms."
Hero's wails are muffled, her heart wild in her chest, skin writhing. Tears stream down her face, trickling onto Claudio's hand. He wipes them aside, eyes glistening with tears of his own.
"I did think you the sweetest lady that ever I looked on. I hoped to make you my wife. But my modest love was not equal to a prince's wealth." He winds his hand in her hair, stroking her tresses with startling gentleness. Hero watches, petrified, as he softens into the handsome youth she thought she knew. "I understood. I held my tongue, for how could he not lose his heart to such pure loveliness."
His face twists and he yanks her hair, wrenching a cry from her.
"Oh, what authority and show of truth can cunning sin cover itself withal! Even now, knowing what poison is concealed, does your sweetness call to me." He leans in, scenting her neck. Hero recoils, but there is nowhere to go. He draws back in anguish. "Oh Hero, what a Hero you could have been, if half your outward graces had been placed about your thoughts and counsels of your heart!"
Beneath him, Hero trembles. "Claudio, please. Let me go."
He clenches his fist, making her wince. "Viper. Strumpet. I should drag you before the Prince and expose your infidelity. Let all know the truth of what you are. Oh, pure impiety and impious purity."
Hero whimpers, shivering uncontrollably. Her pulse gallops, breathing too fast and too shallow to keep pace, "...please… "
"I heard what you called him. That dirty mongrel. I did believe him a soulless fiend, but you admit a share in his abomination. His sins are yours. His wickedness is a stain on your outwards beauty, it taints your flesh, revealing the true rot inside."
He seizes the bodice of her dress, tearing it enough to expose the mark across her breast. Hero screams, battering Claudio with her freed hands. Seeing the scrawl of 'Bastard' upon her, Claudio snarls like some mad beast.
"Devil's whore!"
Hero's palm strikes across his face, catching him in the eye. He staggers and she shoves him off her, attempting to flee —
His arms snake around her before she makes it far. Hero cries out as she is hauled back into his chest, lashing at him.
"Vile harpy!" Claudio spits, eyes aflame. "Rue that I ever admired your fair visage!"
Hero struggles against him, sobbing and panting as she claws for escape, but he is too strong.
Laughter rebounds through the courtyard. Claudio freezes. There comes the sound of voices and footsteps approaching. A group of men swagger into the square, joking and jostling each other; their unsteady gait a testimony to their intoxication. Hero's heart sinks.
"Oh ho, what'sss all th-thiiss," someone crows, spotting Hero and Claudio.
"Thought I heard a wailing," mutters another. "Took it for ahh cup-cup-couple ah cats going at-t it."
"Well… it ain't cats."
Claudio lurches from Hero and she flees the horrid scene into the house.
"Oi. Ain't that the lady?"
Hero hurtles down the hall, terrified Claudio will pursue her. She skids, hot tears blinding her, near deafened with the hammering of her pulse. The walls rise up around her, blurring together; the home she has known all her life now becomes a maze.
"Hero!" Someone exclaims and then she is ensnared in another set of arms. Hero bucks, swinging at her captor. "Hero! Hero! What is wrong, sweet? What has happened!"
Beatrice's face swirls into view and Hero gasps, collapsing into her cousin's embrace. She buries her face in Beatrice's blouse, drenching the cotton with tears.
Beatrice holds her quivering form. "Oh my darling. Oh my heart."
A deeper voice sounds — male — and Hero flinches. She does not hear his words or Beatrice's response, but she is alert to the sound of footsteps and tenses, before realising they are moving away.
Hero clings to Beatrice. Her cousin strokes her hair, speaking in the gentlest of voices. "Come, dearest. We shall retire to your chambers. We will be safe there. No one shall disturb us."
Hero sniffs and nods, trusting Beatrice to guide her, unable to distinguish more than vague shapes as the tears continue to pour. Her eyes burn, her arm throbbing. As she walks her legs tremor with such intensity she is amazed she reaches her room without them crumbling from under her.
"Here. Here, sweet. You are safe here." Beatrice leads her to the bed, setting her upon the mattress.
Hero's gaze snaps to the windows. "Are — are the sh-shut-shutters — are they closed?"
"I will close them."
She senses more than sees Beatrice rise and Hero huddles on the bed, drawing her knees to her chest, her whole frame shuddering.
"There, all secure."
"And the — and the door — the door."
"No one will be getting in here without facing me first."
Hero moans, cradling her head. "I am going to be sick."
A bowl is placed in Hero's lap and she heaves. Beatrice rubs her back, making soothing sounds. Hero aches, her body wrenching forward.
At last, her stomach empties and after a few more dry heaves, the bowl is placed aside. Beatrice hands her a glass of water.
When Hero has finished drinking, she sinks into the bedsheets, still shuddering. She is aware of Beatrice removing her shoes and stockings, then crawling up the bed to untie her sleeves and corset. Hero cringes, digging her nails into the pillow, but does not fight as Beatrice undresses her.
"Who did this, Hero?" Beatrice asks with careful calm, a dagger in a velvet sheath. "Who dared?"
Hero sobs and Beatrice lies beside her, cocooning her in her warmth. Still, Hero shivers, unmoored in an arctic sea. She feels exposed as if her skin has been peeled open, a cold wind rifling through her bones.
Beatrice combs her hair, untangling her remaining pins; half of them already lost to Claudio's tirade. Claudio. Claudio. CLAUDIO.
"Cl— Clau— ," Hero gags around the name, squeezing her eyes shut. "Claud-di — Claudio…"
Beatrice tenses, arms tightening. Hero whimpers and Beatrice slackens her hold, hugging her close. She nuzzles Hero's brow like a lioness with her cub and her breathing calms. She can sense her sister-cousin's rage, hear her vengeful thoughts like the patter of leather wings. But Beatrice is wise not to voice them. Hero cannot stomach further violence tonight, even talk of retribution.
The events of the evening spread out before her, a shattered mirror for her pacing mind to slice itself on. Blood oozes in scarlet rivulets, writhing into hissing snakes. She clutches Beatrice and weeps, each tear another splinter escaping. Her body is wracked with the sensation of crushed glass scraping under flesh and marrow. Every nerve is on fire, her senses drowned in ice. She presses closer to Beatrice, hoping her heat might chase out the cold.
She drags her wrist to her face, untangling her ribbon, and presses her nose to her pulse, breathing in…
…and out…
…and in…
…and out…
She wants to crawl inside Beatrice, to disappear into her father's wardrobe, to return to her mother's embrace. She wants to feel safe. But beneath the floorboards, she senses Claudio's furious presence prowling through the house, a beast on the hunt. Like a frightened child, she shuts her eyes and prays the monster won't find her. Again.
:-x-:
Claudio slams the door of his chamber, blood raging through his veins.
He sees Hero smile at him upon his welcome to the villa, like a maiden presenting her favour to the valiant knight.
How sweet she seemed then, how virtuous and fair. His heart was hers and he thought hers was his too. But then Don Pedro convinced him to stand aside, charming her with his jewelled tongue. What lady could fail to be dazzled by the glamour of a crown? As noble and endowed as he was. What she did not understand — a prince possesses a wealth of pretty treasures. But Claudio, who prized her above all, would have cherished her, doted on her, made her the centrepiece of his heart.
The knowledge of their fated unhappiness was for Claudio to keep to himself (and pray the Prince's appetite was not like his father's). He could never make an enemy of Don Pedro, who he much admired. He was no traitor (though his own faith was betrayed). And she would be well cared for. If missing that precious devotion, he could have given her. It bruised to watch her laugh and dance with Don Pedro. But he smiled, remarking to anyone who noted the handsome pair that it was he who brought the modest lady to the Prince's notice. (His friend could have spared him more consideration, but such is the busy mind of a ruler).
However, to lose her to Don Pedro was one blow. To come across her entangled in the embrace of that bastard traitor, proclaiming her love for the cur —
Claudio's vision had filled with a crimson haze, erupting with righteous fury as he understood the trick they had played on him and the Prince. When he recovered his senses, the villain was gone, and Hero stood alone, an angel in the darkness. Now, he saw her for what she truly was. Rotten. He would not allow her to drag the good prince down with her.
He stepped from his hiding place, startling her, and thwarted her attempt at flight. As he seized her, railed at her loose and deceitful ways, she became agitated, realising her schemes were unravelled. Claudio thought he detected a trace of shame in her countenance, but then her sweet disguise fell and she lashed at him like a hellcat.
Oh, how greatly he was fooled by the rose of her cheeks. Her blush was guiltiness, not modesty.
CRASH
Breathing hard, Claudio observes the pitcher smashed upon the floor, water puddling across the wood. His arm twitches, skin pricking, feverish. An intense awareness of the injustice swells in his chest. If those drunkards had not interrupted them, he would have thrown her before the Prince, before her father — the whole of Messina — and revealed her as a common stale.
He sees her pressing into the traitor, encouraging his lewd explorations, her face fluttering in vulgar exaltation.
The chair clatters to the ground, floorboards shuddering. Claudio seethes.
Don John. What greater fiend than he? What villain, more depraved or more duplicitous? His soul as black as his blood. How warped is Hero's own, to be joined with such a villain? To urge his touch rather than recoil from it. To proclaim love instead of loathing.
This is the proof of her corruption; the rot at her core. Her soul must be a shrivelled, moth-eaten rag. Her heart, a cankerous boil.
He remembers the bastard's words to him, intended for another's ears. How he bid the count, in the guise of brotherly concern, dissuade Don Pedro's infatuation from Hero, citing the lowness of her birth. Did he know then the extent of her unworthiness? Or, observing his brother's attachment, did he plot to bring her lower? While Don Pedro professed his tender love under God's sun, was Don John sneaking into her window at night, whispering sinful seductions?
Oh, vile defiler. Judas and Cain. Unable to steal his brother's throne, the traitor besieged his love, and, finding her virtue so easily vanquished (if it were not before him), did ensure her thorough ruin and Don Pedro's humiliation. Perhaps he even hoped his conniving Delilah would wed the Prince and he could place a cuckoo in her belly, claiming the crown through his demonspawn.
The pillow rips apart, raining feathers, as Claudio roars.
DISHONOURABLE, TRAITOROUS, LOATHSOME WRETCH!
Claudio will kill him.
Yes.
Kill him.
Claudio snatches up his sword, wrenching open the door.
Oh, yes. He will hunt down the rat. Skew him like the vermin he is. His murky blood shall pour from his corpse and no one shall grieve him. Except, perhaps, his faithless whore.
Claudio will deal with her soon enough.
"Claudio!" He starts, the red mist receding as Don Pedro strides towards him, face split in a grin. "Where have you been? I missed you at the revel."
The Prince brims with good cheer, the stress of the previous months' conflict vanished from his face, replaced with a brilliance Claudio regrets he must cloud.
Don Pedro clasps his shoulder. "Come, the night is merry. Why do you look so grim?"
"I have ill tidings, my lord, concerning your miscreant brother."
Don Pedro's expression grows wearied, the weight returning to his shoulders. "What has he done?"
"I caught him making love to Hero."
Don Pedro's eyes widen. "Hero? Is this true?"
"On my honour, I saw them as surely as I see you now."
Claudio waits for the same explosion of grief and fury he felt upon discovering the betrayal. But Don Pedro is calm, almost cavalier, as he rubs his chin. "I saw the kindling between them. This news is not as much a shock to me as it must be for you."
Claudio gawps at him. "You mean… you knew she was disloyal?"
Pedro's brow knits together. "Disloyal? I do not follow your meaning. Who has been disloyal?"
"Why, Hero! Has she not promised herself to you? Has she not broken that promise in the worst possible form by giving herself to your brother."
"Hero? But she has made me no promises?" Don Pedro frowns. "Good count, speak plain. What trespass do you think has occurred?"
The blood rushes through Claudio's skull, veins on the brink of bursting. "IS HERO NOT YOUR LOVE? YOUR BETROTHED?
Pedro stares in amazement then laughs. "You are in jest!" Claudio does not share his amusement and Don Pedro's humour dies, searching his face. "You cannot be serious? Whatever have we said or done to make you believe so?"
Claudio reels. "YOU — you are CAPTIVATED with her. Your — your behaviour — it is so — so FAMILIAR. The other night! You walked together and when you returned you were in such a state of giddiness it was as if you had walked amongst the clouds. YOU SPOKE WITH HER FATHER. I assumed you were to be MARRIED!"
Pedro's stares at him, agog. "Married! Knowing how your heart was engaged? Did you believe I would so ill-use you? I took Hero and Leonato into my counsel to devise how best to bring Benedick and Beatrice together. A plot, you foreswore any part in."
"But — but — but YOUR BROTHER — he did swear you LOVED her!" Even as he speaks them the words ring false in Claudio's mind and he realises his error.
Don Pedro's face stiffens, quieting his voice, "When did my brother tell you this?"
"The — the first night—" Claudio chokes, his ears filling with the sounds of waves breaking on the rocks, "—during the masque. He — he mistook me for Benedick."
Or had he?
No. Don John had known all along who Claudio was. Damn the villain! He had sought to drive a wedge between Claudio and Don Pedro and almost succeeded. Oh, the insidious worm. Claudio's fist clenches around his sabre.
Don Pedro regards him with a sympathetic gleam. Claudio gnashes his teeth, loathing to be pitied. "Odious blaggard, most condemnable DECEIVER! I shall have his liver for how he has abused me!"
Don Pedro catches his shoulder. "Stay yourself, count. Though I sympathise with your plight, John is still my kinsman and it is for me to decide how he is reprimanded."
Claudio rounds on him, incensed with the injustice. "It is not to be borne, my lord! He sought to make enemies of us!"
Don Pedro raises an eyebrow. "Where faith is a citadel, he could not have laid siege. Your doubt was our undoing."
Claudio colours, bowing his head. "I confess, I have acted the fool. So well did I admire the fair Hero that I easily believed you could share in that same affection."
Don Pedro softens. "I understand where you erred, dear friend. My brother is a convincing liar. I realise now we have been mistaking each other these last few weeks. I thought your melancholy sprung from rejection not betrayal."
Claudio drops to his knees, seizing the Prince's hand and clutching it to his forehead. "Forgive me, my noble prince, for my folly. I value your friendship far higher than I esteemed the lady and, thus, never put the matter to you for I did not wish to quarrel."
Don Pedro squeezes his shoulder. "I bid you rise. My dear friend, you have been much misused. I will ensure my brother is justly recompensed for his trick. If you wish to duel him for the lady's hand, I will not intercede, although it must be for the win and not blood."
Claudio sneers, "I will not have her NOW; knowing how she is TAINTED. Mark me, I shall reckon with the KNAVE for how he has mocked me, but in truth he has done me one good-turn. He has spared me from knitting my soul to an approved WANTON."
Don Pedro flinches, glancing around in alarm. With considerable force, he hauls Claudio aside. "Lower your voice. You slander a sweet lady."
Claudio scoffs. "It is the word which best befits her given the vulgar scene I witnessed between her and the ba— your brother."
Don Pedro's face pinches. "John delights in vulgarity, but Hero… I considered her a prudent and virtuous maid."
"HA!"
Don Pedro rubs his brow. "If John has debauched her, then I shall ensure he does right by her and the two are joined under the eyes of God." Claudio opens his mouth but Don Pedro silences him with a pointed finger. "You, Claudio, will hold your peace. Speak no more of this."
Claudio grits his jaw, unable to refuse a direct command. Sullenly, he abides, "Yes, my lord."
"Good." The twinkle returns to Don Pedro's eyes and he smiles, clapping Claudio on the back. "Do not look so downcast, my friend. We shall find a good wife for you yet. You are young and have much to recommend you. Put this trouble from your mind and dream of a fairer future. I promise, Claudio, you shall get all that you deserve."