"Twilight for Anonymous…"
Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!
Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, .com or direct to story at www...
General audience level...
Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…
Part III…
London lodging of William Shakespeare…The city base and home away from home of England's most popular (subject to (often violent) dispute by rivals) playwright…
The knocking at the door proving not to be as feared, agents of the Queen, intent on ferreting out any potential threats to the blessed stability of Elizabeth's reign…But as the surprise visiting, (fretting over reports of rumored attempts by mysterious well-placed persons to claim credit for her husband's work…And over reports of Will's 'activities' among London's fair sex.), Anne Shakespeare noted, first inwardly, and then with impatience (What, am I the dim serving wench now?) to her closet-concealed husband and his colleague/competitor (tis best till we know what's about here, girl…And we haven't finished untying Will yet…), Ben Jonson, potentially far worse…
In the form of a rather foppish clerical emissary of the Earl of Oxford, with an insistent note demanding several small but vital scene changes for a previously requested private performance of a slightly older, yet still successful on revival, play, "Richard II"…
"And His Highness the Earl would like these alterations by when?" Anne asked, innocently…
"By tomorrow night…Can he do it? Tis most essential…" the clerk eyed her.
Hmmn, not bad…A bit of a country wench by her browned skin and those firm arms but with a little carriage and reasonable diction…
This fellow Shakespeare likes his serving lassies buxom and dark as well as clever I see. And a little spirit in those brown eyes… Yes, a nice armful…And old enough to know a thing or two…
"Oh, without fail, sir…" she smiled, bowing head slightly.
Hmmn…The clerk looked her over again. She struggling to hold smile at his taking inventory…
It's not who the little twerp is but whom he represents…For Will's and the kids' sake…She told herself.
Not bad, the clerk summed up…Perhaps before I take my leave I might indulge in a little indulgence. No doubt my gracious Lord would approve it as one of the perks of my position…
Still, should actually confirm things with the fellow…The Earl was rather insistent this be ready on time…
"You're sure Master Shakespeare is unavailable…?"
"I'm afraid so, sir…But I will see he gets your letter within the hour."
Shakespeare frowning in the closet. Fellow sounds a bit…Forward…
Hmmn…Hour? Thought the clerk…
Pshaw…Doesn't leave much time for indulgence…Ah well, set things up and when I pick up the completed project, I see to my own fringe benefit…
"All right then…You seem a clever lass…" smile. "And a comely one…" chuck under chin…Pressing small coin in her hand… "Here's something for you now…And a promise of more for us both, later, eh?" wider smile.
Anne, pasting extremely false smile… "Oh, thank you, sir…" slight curtsy.
I'll tolerate a kiss for the greater good but if he goes for the breasts, I'll break his neck and send a boy with my regrets for the sad accident on our dark stairs and a promise as to the work…
("Will…Not now…" Jonson hissed as Shakespeare made for the door…
That little…)
"I must return to the Earl…Til tomorrow, sweet lass…" the clerk turned to go, pausing… "What be thy fair name, girl?"
("For God's sake and our careers, Will!" Jonson, desperately clutching an arm…)
"Anne, sir…"
"Well, Anne…I must return to the Earl to report. Tomorrow night we'll toast your master's success in pleasing mine, eh…?" smirk.
Warm smile...Well, you saved your life for one more day at least, bastard…
Though I'd never say no to a free pitcher of good ale…And a chance to make the Mister Shakespeare shake a bit with jealousy.
"Good night, sir…"
"Anne…" elegant wave…Flourishing sweep of cloak on turn, modeled on his master, DeVere's style. Slam of door on departure…
"All right, the little twit's gone off…!" she called to the closet.
A furious Shakespeare, followed by Jonson, emerging…
"What?" she regarded Will's angry face…Repressed grin…
Nice to see a little of the ole green-eyed monster there, eh?
"You told that…#$%#!...of a messenger boy…That puffed and perfumed popinjay scrivener to a…Popinjay…"
"That you'd be finished by tomorrow night with these alterations…" she offered the letter calmly. "And I'd expected better from my Shakespeare…Really, Will…Popinjay to a popinjay?"
"Anne, you know what I mean. He thinks you're…"
"Unmarried?..." she asked, innocently. "He never asked, you know…"
"Anne…Married or un-…The man will be expectin' you to..."
"Every man lives on expectin'…" she airily shrugged.
I know I do…Jonson thought…
"Come now, Will…Since when can't I handle the likes of that?" she shook her head, light smile. "Have I ever given you cause?…I mean since we were plighted, of course…?"
He frowned but shook his head. "Always a first time, girl…"
"And I might be askin' the same of you, you know…" she noted, a bit grimly.
"You didn't even ask…You simply tied me up." he replied, equally grim…
"That was for yer own and the family's protection…"
"So will I say tomorrow…" he eyed her.
"Will…"
"Let me see the damned thing…" he pointed to the letter in her hand…Which she handed him.
"Changes to my 'Richard II'…? Who the devil does that idiot kid DeVere think he is?"
"He'll be takin' it as his own in a minute if we're not defending your work, love. As I've been tellin' ya…" she noted. "But we need to go along this one time and find out what his game is and what dangers it might pose to us, the innocent bystanders. It could be political, Will…"
"A play about a king forced to abdicate…I'd say it was…" he nodded.
Hmmn…All three regarded each other…
Not something one wants to take lightly in Tudor England. Even if old Eliza's not the maniac her father Henry was…
Spymaster Walsingham at least being inclined to extreme prejudice in defense of his Queen and realm…Particularly with upstart writers and playwrights…And perfectly content to use them…Or their dead or tortured bodies…To send a little warning to that troublesome noble backer who's a bit tough to bring down without a lot of fuss and feathers…
Nice as it was to be taken seriously by important types…Not something even a playwright protected by a Slayer might want to fool with.
"Those two young idiots Essex and Oxford could drag us down to the abyss…Or the chopping block…Or worse…" Shakespeare noted.
"The 'worse' I'd say for the likes of us. Drawing and quartering at least for commoners implicated in treason…" Jonson nodded thoughtfully.
Hmmn…Well, while it would be nice to see a competitor removed from the chessboard, it would increase the risk for us all. And probably take dear Anne as well…And perhaps muck up my own latter-day revenge…
Besides, it's one thing to triumph over my rival in Art and Love on my own, with a bit of supernatural assist…Come to think of it I ought to have demanded a love spell from that vengeance lord…Quite another to see our profession trampled on by some effete aristo…
"All you've to do is alter a few lines, eh Will? Not a big problem…" Anne insisted.
Jonson eyed Shakespeare…Lord, laypeople…They think this stuff just comes rattling out of our brains, writing itself.
"The hell you say, girl…" Will frowned. "This is an intricate work. Pull out or modify one line and the whole structure can crash to the ground…"
"Indeed, Annie…This is no slight task…" Jonson agreed. "And the whole thing is in verse…It's like a fine timepiece, carefully wound…"
"Exactly…Thanks, Ben…" Will nodded, pleased at the support.
Artists…Anne rolled eyes…Especially, male artists. They sure stick together…
"Fine…But can you make the changes and reset the 'timepiece' by tomorrow evening…?"
"Well…"
"Good…Off to it, love…" she pointed to a room in back…
"But…Anne…"
"What? There's much to do, Will…You've your work. I'll need to be about finding out what my people know about DeVere and Essex and their plans. And if there's another reason besides sheer vanity that DeVere might be seeking to claim your work as his own…"
Shakespeare frowning…Anne…
Anne, likewise…Will…
Still, tis a proper division of labour, one must concede, he had to admit to himself…
Lord, all this nonsense over one stupid poem commissioned by one stupid young twit of an earl…
Though it did bring Annie to London… A den of iniquity, however profitable for the family fortunes, she constantly swears never to come to, especially whilst the Stratford Hellmouth and her kiddies demand her attention. I owe that fop DeVere thanks for that at least…
Jonson, seeing an opening, spoke up…
"Mistress Shakespeare is right, Will. Best for her to go out and about…I can provide an escort if you like…"
Anne rolling eyes…I can imagine the help he'd be…
"Anne…You yourself said it might be political. Who's to say it might not be best for me to just leave it be and tell that fool I'm too busy. Besides, you just got here…And tied me up…And left me here to go chasing down Ben here…"
Indeed…Jonson nodded, pondering…
Could be there was some double meanin' in that…
"Will, I came because you didn't write back to my letter about the rumors about your work being claimed of another…"
"You haven't even told me how you and the children are faring…"
"Now, love…Hamnet's yet well and safe with the Beaumonts' man at Cambridge by the last courier, Judy's got a little cold. Suzannah's done a drawing for you…" she reached into the folds of her dress. "Here…" she handed him a scrap of paper…
"She's talented, our Sue…" he beamed at the drawing. "What about Hamnet?" frown. "He was speakin' of giving up school, last letter. Did he take heed of my letters? Playwriting is no profession for him when he has a chance to be a Beaumont and follow in Sir Francis' footsteps as his son and heir." Shaking head.
"Now Will…" she sighed, sensing his sadness.
To lose our only son…And all the fault of mine own and my profession…Bitter indeed even if Will says naught of it.
"He has a chance few boys have…" Will continued. "As Francis Beaumont, he could be a man of influence, even a councilor."
"He's Hamnet Shakespeare and proud of his dad…" Anne sighed, eyes downcast and voice a bit broken.
"Anne, I don't mean to suggest…" Will began, hand on her shoulder.
"The boy's promised to follow our course for him and enter the Temple for law…" she noted, pulling herself together. "Your letter on the law as a source of material for learning of life did that much. But both of them take after Pa…And all send Papa their love and want him home. As do I…And thank ye, Will…" heartfelt look. "For your forgiveness…And for askin' about me as well…For once…" wry grin.
"Annie…Well…Soon as the season ends, tell them. Did you leave the girls with Mother and Dad or your people?"
"The way your dad is these days?" frown. "My people, of course…"
"He has his troubles, Dad does. But I don't see that…"
"Troubles, indeed…" eye roll. " You know the customs agents found another of his wool shipments. He just barely evaded jail this time. And he got mixed up in that oath-taking business again. He'll be the ruin of us one day for sure…"
"Anne, Dad is a man of faith. The old faith…When not stretching the law on wool marketing…"
People…Jonson sighing inaudibly…Our careers (particularly that of England's greatest playwright, me) and lives on the line? Can we play "family catch-up" another time…?
"He couldn't just be happy with that coat of arms you got for him. Live in quiet retirement and practice his old faith in secret...As I practice my old profession?"
Shakespeare, suddenly cautious, glance at Anne…
"You know Ben knows all about me work ever since that night I had to save you both in Stratford…" she shrugged. "No worries there…He knows I'd shut his mouth for him if he ever breathed a word…Whatever we owe him as to Hamnet's safety. Aye, tis our debt to him only that's kept his mouth open and hand writing, at times. Aye, Ben?" she eyed Jonson.
"Aye…" Jonson, slight frown. Picturing the moment of said threat, following a late night rescue of the utterly wasted Jonson and Shakespeare returning from a writer's brainstorming session/drunken carouse...
The Undead lass serving at the tavern having been all too willing to follow along with them after closing…
A furious Anne having destroyed said pretty tavern's assistant, and her gang of Undead rogues and highwaypeople, equally angry at Jonson's leading her husband on a orgastic drinking binge as at the Undead threatening her husband…
…And making it perfectly clear while holding the suddenly sobered Jonson by one hand off the ground that she would indeed keep her promise to disembowel him with that sharp piece of wood in her hand should he ever breathe a word of her abilities…
…Or bring Will home in such a state, again.
"But if he'd be so good as to leave us be a moment. We should be discussin' the household accounts before I go…" she eyed Will.
"Thought you sent me the household accounts last week…" he replied.
Will…For the Lord's sake…Eye roll…
Well, at least it bodes well against them rumors of his doin's here in the City…
"Aye, but you should be seein' them in detail. In your workroom…"
"Oh?..." innocent confusion.
By the Lord's Mass, for an educated man and England's leadin' playwright, you're quite a dense fellow sometimes, William…Anne fumed.
"In…Full detail…Full and naked detail…" she tried, staring. Slight pull at her chest stays…Shaking of fair locks…
Come on Adonis…Venus been without it in Stratford too long…
Oh…Yes…Right…Will eyed her.
"Yes, we should go over those accounts, in back…" Will nodded.
"Thought you'd never ask…" Anne, archly. "Just be a few moments, Ben. Family matters…"
Oh, please…Jonson sighed. Watching the two happily hurrying to the room in back…Pausing at door…
"Just take a minute, Ben…" she called back.
"Anne?...Have I lost any more…?" Will bent head for her observation…Opening door…
She peered…"No…Well…P'rhaps a bit…But not much…" she lied. Pulling him into the room, closing door with slam…
The thanks I get for all my help…Jonson eyed the closed door with smoldering look. Even if I'd rather thought to cinch Anne's heart in helping to keep her only son safe with Beaumont, who owed her in any case.
There's no true gratitude or honesty in Man or Woman these evil days…
Well, I shall be revenged…
It's guaranteed…
Without serious risk, naturally, bein' certain that England's greatest playwright, yours truly, must write on…
…..
An alleyway near Whitehall…A frowning Anne carefully avoiding several muckholes and trying to fan away the stench with her hand. She paused by a stretch of what seemed to be brick wall…
"The sign?" A male voice issued from within, via a slot created by the removal of a loose brick…
"Piss off and open, tis' the Slayer!" Anne replied.
"Yes?...And how would I be knowing it's the Slayer, missy?" the sharp reply.
"I can dust you through this slot, arse's bastard vampire. Don't you be putting on fal-der-ol airs with me…Tell yer damned (and I mean that literally) boss I've come…" she whacked her stake at the opening in the wall…
Sound of noises from within…Faint sound of argument…
The wall suddenly opened, bricks carefully cut and attached to a wooden door…
"Mistress Hathaway the Vampire Slayer…" another male voice, that of the one arguing with the vampire doorkeeper. "Welcome…"
"Mistress Shakespeare, Willie…" Anne replied. Stepping in…Eyeing the frowning tall gaunt figure frowning at her sourly from the side as the slight and genial Willie took her free hand and gave it a gallant kiss…
"Don't mind Hector…He's a good un, strictly cow's blood. My brother-in-law, a sad and tragic case…"
"You've a lot of brothers- and sisters- in-law, William…" Anne frowned at the little man(?)…
"London's a dangerous place, Ma'am…" Willie sighed. "Me relations are forced to remarry frequently…Hector, a chair for the lady...Will ye have ale, good Slayer?"
"Twouldn't be sayin' no, Willie…" she nodded, taking seat from the still-frowning Hector…
"What's the bug up his Undead arse?…" she tilted head at the vampire, quaffing a long draw from the mug Willie set before her. "I kill some close mate or one of your innumerable sisters, his spouse?"
"You're Shakespeare's wife…" Hector replied, suddenly…
"Bastard cheated me on the last oats crop…"
