Hamlet: A Lesson in Espionage

Chapter 4

A/N- well here it is. The not much anticipated chapter 4. sniff, sniff. This seems so weird, not having any reviewers to respond to. Anyway, here goes.

Bowing, he stepped to the side, making way as Claudius and Gertrude stood to leave. Out in the hallway footsteps were heard once again. A moment later Hamlet passed by the open doors, oblivious to the world, reading a book.

The queen sighed. "He looks so preoccupied. Walking and reading with that pensive expression on his face."

Had electricity been discovered a light bulb would have flashed above Polonius' head. He acted quickly, hardly thinking. Without so much as a backward glance he hurried after the prince's receding footsteps.

"How does my lord this beautiful morning?" Polonius asked, attempting to hide that he was out of breath from his short chase. Hamlet glanced up from his book and smiled, a little too brightly.

"Oh, 'tis you." Hamlet's tone mimicked his smile. He went back to his book.

"Polonius started. He hadn't thought the prince knew who he was, or at least remembered him after spending so many years away at school. "You know me, my lord?"

Hamlet looked up again. "Aye. Very well. You are a fishmonger." The prince ignored him a second time as he turned a page and continued reading and walking. Affronted, Polonius took an involuntary step back.

"Not I, my lord!" he said indignantly.

The prince frowned. "Really? Too bad. I wish you were that honest."

"Honest, my lord?" Polonius asked, confused.

Hamlet shut his book with a loud snap. "Yes sir. It is no small thing to be honest in this world. One man in ten thousand may be considered truly honest."

Polonius nodded, agreeing with the prince, though not quite sure where he was going with this line of thought. Abruptly Hamlet spoke again.

"Did you know the slotted spoon can catch the potato?" Polonius stopped walking and stared at Hamlet. What did slotted spoons and potatoes have anything to do with their conversation?

"Have you a daughter?" Hamlet asked, quickly switching topics and not giving the old man time to think about slotted spoons.

Polonius smiled; now he was back on familiar ground. "I do, my lord."

Hamlet nodded knowingly and offered him advice. "You would do well to not let her walk with this bright son. Conception is a blessing, but as your daughter may conceive, you may not approve." Hamlet let that cryptic suggestion hang in the air, opened his book, and resumed his trek through the corridors.

Polonius let him go as he thought about the prince's statement. Hamlet was strange indeed. He was well and truly mad, that much was obvious, and he was fairly certain that it was due to Ophelia's recent rejections. After all, he himself had gone through a brief mad spell when he had met his wife. He looked up and found Hamlet no longer standing next to him. But he was not done with the prince and trotted to catch up.

He came upon Hamlet, sitting on a windowsill in the lobby down the hall. He was still engrossed with his book. Polonius came to a stop in front of Hamlet, who did not deign to acknowledge his presence.

"What do you read, my lord?" he asked, purely out of curiosity.

Hamlet held his place with his index finger and flipped through the rest of the pages. When he had scanned the whole volume he answered the question. "Words," came the simple reply.

Polonius rolled his eyes and frowned. "I mean what is the matter?"

Feigning concern, Hamlet looked about as if looking for an argument. "Between whom?"

"I meant, what is the matter that you read, my lord." Polonius kept tight control of his voice, keeping the impatience from it. Hamlet's mouth parted in a silent "Oh" as he decided to understand the advisor.

"Slanders, sir. The author satirizes old men, saying they have grey beards, wrinkled faces, oozing cow-like eyes and that they have an astounding lack of wit, together with weak and degraded limbs. I most heartily agree with him. But it is not good manners to set down like this, for if it were possible, you sir might grow as old as I, if you could do as a crab does and go backward."

Once again Polonius was left in a state of extreme confusion. While every time Hamlet opened his mouth he confirmed his madness even more, Polonius suspected there was a certain level of method to it. Hamlet's mind was like quicksilver; it ran deep and quick, leaving Polonius scrambling in its wake.

"Will you walk out of the air, my lord?" Polonius asked, hoping Hamlet would accompany him outside. Once again, Hamlet shut his book.

"Into my grave?" he answered with a question. The king's advisor hesitated a moment, a little bit more than disturbed. The casual way Hamlet spoke of his death was morbid and unnerving. The boy's madness must go farther than we thought, Polonius said to himself. He decided to humor him.

"Aye, sir, that would be out of the air." Polonius marveled at how apt the prince was at giving quick and loaded replies. Each phrase and sentence meant more than it appeared. As he was growing ever more uncomfortable in Hamlet's presence, he decided he's had enough. He needed to meet with the king and plan how to orchestrate the meeting between Hamlet and Ophelia, to determine if his daughter was in fact the cause of Hamlet's distemper.

"My lord, I take my leave of you." He bowed and turned to go.

"You may take that as often as you wish, good Polonius. Of nothing would I sooner part… except perhaps my life. Yes, my life." Hamlet then reopened his book and began reading once more. Polonius backed slowly away, regarding Hamlet with a mixture of incredulity and dismay.

Back down by the audience chamber he ran into Twin One and Twin Two. "You are looking for Hamlet?" he asked. One of them mumbled something that sounded vaguely like a yes. Polonius pointed back down the way he had come.

"He is in the lobby." Rosencrantz and Guildenstern thanked him and went on their way.

Polonius continued forward. He knew not where he was going, just that he needed to do some thinking. He was not actually sure Hamlet's lunacy was Ophelia's fault at all. He had only said so to their majesties to protect his own hide. It seemed more likely to him that Hamlet's behavior was a result of his encounter with the specter from last night. One day of rejection by his daughter was a bit soon for Hamlet to have gotten this bad. Even when he was in young and in love, his mad spell had not taken root overnight. There was more to this riddle than was visible, and Polonius meant to figure it out, all of it.

Running the scene through his head, yet again, Polonius cursed himself that he hadn't found a way to hear what transpired below him. But it was past now, and there was naught he could do to change it. He would just have to keep a close eye on the royal son and hope he talked to himself when alone. That seemed the only way to unravel the mystery. Of course he could always find and interrogate the guards, but he knew neither their names nor guard shifts. His best bet was to stick to Hamlet.

While he thought his feet carried him through the halls of Elsinore and out the front gates. He did not notice at all until loud laughter and jests reached his ears. Snapping back to the present, he looked about. He was standing on the front steps to the castle and a troupe of players was hard at work unloading their cart.

He was astonished; players had not been to the capital city in years. Then he located the head player and his knees nearly gave out under him. He knew the head player. He had gone to the university with him. They had acted there together.

Polonius rushed down the steps and called his name. The man turned around and his face lit up. Without words the two exchanged brief hugs. Stepping back, the two of them got better looks at each other.

"Oliver! What on earth brings you to Elsinore? Never mind that. How are you?" Polonius babbled excitedly. Oliver had been his staunchest companion when he was younger and it was a real treat to see him now.

Oliver laughed. "I have never been better. My troupe and I have touring Denmark and Europe for some time. But not but a fortnight ago we received an invitation from the royal family to come and play for the good people of Elsinore."

His brows furrowed. No one had said anything of a visit from players. Claudius was not even that fond of their antics. Perhaps it had been Gertrude's idea of a wedding present. Either way, it mattered not him.

"Come with me," he said. "There is someone I want you to meet. He will want to know you all are here."

Oliver gave his troupe orders to finish unloading, and followed Polonius.

Polonius and Oliver found Hamlet, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern where he had left them earlier. Motioning Oliver to wait in the hall, he walked quickly back into the lobby. He could scarcely contain his joy and a smile found its way unbidden to his face.

As the three men became aware of him, he saw Hamlet lean in close to Guildenstern, or the one so designated, and whisper something in his ear.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I hope all is well with you," he said jovially. Hamlet then said something else to the other Twin, which made him giggle. Hamlet then called out to the old man, "You are right, sir, 'tis a wonderful morning." Had Polonius not been so intent upon delivering his news he would have caught the mocking tone in Hamlet's voice.

"My lord," he started, finally reaching them. "I have news for you."

The prince mimicked Polonius' voice. "My lord, I have news for you—"

Polonius ignored him, continuing in a rush. "A troupe of players has come to Elsinore!"

Hamlet waved his arm dismissively.

"But, my lord, they are the finest actors in the world. Whether for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, or any other genre, there are no better. By their acting Seneca is not too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For anything you wish to see performed, my lord, there is no better troupe!"

Something strange crossed Hamlet's features and abruptly his demeanor changed. At once he was interested in the actors where a moment ago he had nearly been scorning them.

Turning halfway round, Polonius beckoned Oliver over to them. Hamlet greeted the head player warmly, asking of their touring and other such things. After a good bit of converse, Hamlet asked politely for a taste of the head players acting quality, so that he might have an inkling as to what he would see when the whole troupe performed together. Oliver was only too happy to oblige and Hamlet begged for a speech. And at the prince's request, he started Aeneas' tale to Dido.

The speech, while artfully done, was long and drawn out. It took far longer, in Polonius' opinion, than was needed. And about halfway through he grumbled something along those lines. Of course, he was pointedly ignored.

At the end the prince's eyes were shining, bright with unshed tears, of genuine feeling and appreciation, and Polonius called an end to the demonstration. A bit perturbed with him, Hamlet sent his stepfather's advisor to see that the player troupe was suitably fed and housed. He reluctantly obeyed, but only at the very minimum the order implied. He sent the first page he met to do it for him. Polonius then doubled back to find Hamlet.

As he suspected, hamlet was still talking animatedly with Oliver. The two seem to have hit it off nicely, he thought darkly to himself. As was his wont, he kept to the darkest part of the hall and sidled as close as he dared to the threshold, straining to hear what was spoken.

For another brief moment the strange expression returned to Hamlet's face. He stared into space a foot or two to the left of Oliver's head. He looked almost as if he were planning something.

Suddenly he snapped out of whatever trance had held him. He turned to Oliver. "Can you perform 'The Murder of Gonzago'?" he asked.

Oliver considered it a moment. "Yes, my lord."

Hamlet smiled broadly. "Excellent. We will have it tomorrow evening, after the meal." He paused a moment. "Would it pose a problem if I added a few lines?"

The head player frowned. "Of course not, my lord. We are players after all. What is a few more lines to memorize?"

The prince clapped him on the back. "Good man. Now go and find your friend. He will see you safely lodged."

Oliver bowed with a flourish only a player could muster, and left.

Polonius had to scramble to find a place to hide. He made it behind a wall hanging just as Oliver crossed the threshold between lobby and corridor. He prayed that in the dingy light the player missed the man shaped bulge in the fabric. Luck was with him, for Oliver was so preoccupied with his thoughts to notice much of anything. Polonius waited few more moments, before easing himself from behind the tapestry. No sooner had he done so than Twin One and Twin Two could be heard coming in his direction, deep in conference.

Quickly he pushed aside the tapestry and dove behind it. The one on the left glanced briefly at it when it swayed with his motion, but he dismissed it as the breeze blowing by.

When they were safely out of sight, Polonius breathed a sigh of relief and slid out from behind the wall hanging. He darted across the hall and peered into the near empty lobby. The click of boot heels echoed off the high ceilings as Hamlet paced its breadth. His book was discarded, left open on the floor some feet away, the pages fluttering in the slight breeze that found its way through the windows.

Polonius had not noticed, but sometime during his pacing Hamlet had begun voicing his thoughts aloud. He must not have known what he was doing, for he was speaking loudly and clearly.

"What is Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba that he should weep for her? What would he do if he were as disposed as I? Why, he would bend the words to reach the audience, making the guilty mad, the innocent scared, and confuse the ignorant. Yet, I, how can I accomplish such a thing being a dull-spirited and moping dreamer? Am I a coward to be walked over and insulted?" He lapsed into silence again, never ceasing his relentless pacing. He seemed to be thinking to himself again, and Polonius silently cursed him. He would never find the whole of the mystery if Hamlet didn't speak up. For some reason, the old man knew that this was something important. Hamlet was almost at the brink of saying something only he could tell, and it frustrated the old man to no end that the boy didn't continue speaking to himself.

Having come to some unknown conclusion, Hamlet resumed his soliloquy. "I have heard before that guilty people, upon witnessing something very similar to a crime they themselves have committed, have been so moved by the cunning of it that they confessed themselves, or exuded some symptom of guilt that was enough to condemn them anyway. With my alterations, I'll observe the guilty party and probe him to the quick. If he does blanch than I'll know him for the killer, but if not, I'll now the ghost of my father to be naught but an errant apparition who has assumed a pleasing shape in order to cause mischief here in Elsinore. The plays the thing, wherein I'll catch the conscious of the king." Slowly a smile spread across the man's determined features. He allowed himself one satisfied moment and ran to the staircase at the back of the lobby. Polonius watched as Hamlet mounted them and took them two and three at a time.

"Catch the conscious of the king?" he whispered softly when the prince had gone. What did that mean? Guilty parties and altered scenes? What on earth had the specter uttered to Hamlet? Polonius mind reeled with what he had heard. Whatever he had hoped to learn, it had nothing to do with plays and Claudius.

Realizing he still had aught to do that afternoon, Polonius turned and went in search of the players. He had promised Hamlet he would see them safely stowed at Elsinore. The old man walked down the hall in a fog. Hamlet's soliloquy had aroused more questions than it had answered. If fact, it had answered none.

A/N- Whew! There, that's done. Finally! It took forever. Act 2, scene ii is unbearably long. So, not that I think anyone is going to review, but on the slim chance that someone might have deigned to read and review this. As always, constructive criticism is always welcome. And thanks!!!!