Chapter Two

The man took a step toward Viola, and she cringed. But she calmed down when she noticed that he was well-groomed, and wore a nice, new outfit which was made of silk. Anyone who was not ragged and forlorn-looking was alright with her. Though Viola wondered how he could look so neat if he, too, was stranded on this island.

"Hello there, I'm Sir Thomas Kentworth," he said, taking a step forward and holding out a hand. Viola in turn stood, and curtsied, but did not shake the hand offered to her.

"Viola de Lesseps, sir. I was stranded here when the boat carrying my husband and myself to Virginia was wrecked during a storm," she said, her voice cool and respectful.

Sir Thomas smiled, and watched her, taking her in. Viola wondered if he would ever stop looking at her, because it felt odd, but he soon stopped and continued to speak.

"I thought you were alone on this island… I heard you walking around yesterday noon, looking for food. You ate some strawberries and mushrooms, if I remember well. I did not know you had a husband. Where is he?" Sir Thomas said, looking innocent. Viola was slightly shocked by the fact that he knew so much about her already, while she knew nothing about him besides his name.

"Forgive my error of speech. My late husband. He perished in the storm which shipwrecked me and killed all the sailors."

Viola's tone was cold, but slightly friendly. It had been a while since she had spoken to someone other than herself, and it felt good. But despite her long weeks away from the structured world of English society, she had not forgotten her manners, and knew she must not be too friendly with this stranger.

"Forgive me, my lady, if I offended. I did not realize. Anyway, the reason of my abrupt intrusion on your privacy is that I would like to offer you a journey back to England. You see, I am a merchant by trade and frequently travel between Virginia and London, and during these journeys I enjoy stopping by this small island and resting. It is quiet and peaceful, as no city is, and I like to hear the quiet lapping of the waves without the cries of sailors doing their business near me. I noticed you yesterday, and felt rather sorry for you, but did not feel that it would have been gentlemanly to intrude upon you when you were so deep in your thoughts. It might have startled you half to death, and I could not have borne that. In any case, I was hoping you would like to come with me. It is only a four-week journey back to London, and I am sure that your parents would love to see you again, despite your widowhood," he smiled sweetly, as if denying culpability for having overheard her speaking to herself the day before. Viola blushed.

"That is a very generous offer, sir. You are most kind, and I would love to accept. I have so been longing to get back to London."

Viola's heart soared, for she thought eagerly of returning to Will, to his plays, and to the city she knew so well, which was so familiar to her.

Sir Thomas smiled knowingly, as if guessing her thoughts. Viola frowned, not liking him too well. But he was her only means of getting back home safely, or of getting home at all. She smiled at him and took the arm he held out to her, and they started to walk in some direction, probably towards Sir Thomas' ship.

"By the way, my lady, I have several spare dresses in the cabin. They are leftovers from what I brought to Virginia. They were too expensive for the ladies there to afford."

Viola looked down at her tattered gown and blushed. Yes, it was embarrassing to be seen in this, she thought gloomily, fingering a rather large hole in the material. And though it was not ladylike to accept such a large gift from a gentleman, she decided that it might be alright this one time, given the circumstances.

The streets of London were even more crowded than they had been that morning, and Will fought against the crowd, trying to make his way to the alehouse, determined to find human company. He had woken from his nap to find that he was unable to get back to sleep, and as he had begun to think longingly of Viola, he decided that he must find someone to talk to, and to avoid being alone with his thoughts at all costs.

The alehouse was dark and dank, the wood tables and chairs sagging because of constant use. But no one was there, except for a few street people with nothing better to do, a boy who was playing lonesomely with a little dog in a corner, and the bartender, who looked bored beyond imagining. But the bartender smiled eagerly when he saw Will, for he was fond of Will and of his plays. And he knew that Will could never resist ale, and that he would always pay back his debts, unlike some of his other customers. So he never had any qualms about letting Will buy ale on credit.

"Hello, there, Christian," Will said cheerily, trying to fake happiness. Sometimes he didn't care who saw him when he was moody. Now was not one of those times.

"Hello Will, how are you? How's life treating you? Well, I hope. Myself, I haven't been having such a good time. A couple of rats managed to steal a case of ale, and that was worth a couple of pounds. Anyway, how are you, Will?"

"Oh, I'm alright. But I need to ask you a favor, Christian. I'm working on this new play, you see, but we're one actor short. No one wants to play a shrewish wife name Kate, who never listens to anyone and always drives men away. I don't know why, since it's such a brilliant part. It's a comedy, and my critics at the theater say that Kate is the liveliest character, apart from Petruchio, her husband. In any case, Christian, I need you to help me find someone who wouldn't mind playing a shrew."

Christian nodded knowingly and passed Will a glass of ale. Will moved his hand toward his purse, but Christian shook his head.

"On the house, my friend. My problems are nothing compared to yours. And yes, I'll help out. I know quite a few lads who would do anything for money. Like that one over there," he said, pointing towards the boy in the corner, who didn't even look up. He appeared to have not heard the mention of himself.

"Yes, but we need someone with talent. It would look so odd to have a set of brilliant actors in minor parts, and then to have a silly little street urchin in the main part."

"Don't worry, Will, that one has talent. Sometimes I get him to do work for me, and once or twice I caught him trying to act out lines from your last play. He's a very good actor, if I do say so myself. And I know these things. Anyway, Will, I would talk to him. He'll do anything you ask for money, and likes theater, so he might put in extra work for the pleasure of being on stage."

Will eyed his friend suspiciously, but Christian seemed unfazed. He saw too many characters during the week to care much about one silly playwright's suspicions. He nodded at Will, and pointed in the boy's direction.

Will stood up and walked over to the boy, who looked up at him when he came near. His face was a little dirty, but mostly clean. He had mouse-brown hair, freckles, pale skin, and bright brown eyes. The dog he had been playing with ran away while his attention wavered, but the boy didn't notice.

"Hello, I'm William Shakespeare," Will said as a form of introduction, bending down as he spoke so that he was on the boy's level.

"Yes, I know. I've seen you come in here a few times, and I heard some people calling you by name. I'm George Darkins. What can I do for you, sir?" the boy said in a calm voice, devoid of emotion. He spoke with a thick Cockney, but Will was sure that he knew how to speak like a cultured person.

"I am working on a new play, and I need someone to play a shrewish wife. The problem is, no one wants the part. So Christian there told me that you might want to help me, since you're such a fan of the theater. And I would pay you good money. I work over at the Globe Theater, and it's doing quite handsomely."

George looked pensive, but smiled finally.

"I do like theater, very much. Me own father was an actor. Died a while ago, though. And sure, I'd be willing to help you, for some money. I don't mind playing a shrewish wife. The part's all the same to me. I just like to act."

"Good boy. Come to the theater tomorrow then, around noontime, and I'll see how you can act. Then we can get you in costume and acquainted with the text, and then we'll start rehearsing. It's a good play, boy, and I'm sure it will be a success. It's a comedy."

Will rose, smiling at the boy, who smiled back, showing teeth that were rather white. Will wondered why Richard was so incapable of finding talent. London simply reeked of it. Shaking his head, he made his exit from the alehouse.