For aught
…that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history,
the course of true love never did run smooth.
- A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare, 1595
Perhaps just to cross her, Edmund never went to bed. He stretched out on the sofa before the fire and slept there, his book still open on his chest. If he felt like being a bat sometimes, he would be a bat. He woke when morning began to brush cool fingers across the ceiling rafters, and he went to the window to watch the silver light turn gold and illuminate every drop of water on the glass.
He found the book Beatha had left behind the night before and saw that it was the second volume of a treatise on irrigation. He couldn't help laughing as he wondered how stimulating she had found the diagrams on how to maintain water pressure in fountains.
There was a creaking of floorboards and Edmund looked up in surprise to see the lady herself, standing in the doorway with her eyes blazing.
"What did I do this time?" he asked mechanically.
"You must come!" she exclaimed. "You must come!"
"What happened?"
"Claude has accused my cousin Helena of all manner of heinous things!"
"Well," Edmund said, immediately picturing a standard lovers' quarrel that would be ironed out in five to ten minutes, "What can I do about it?"
"Kill Claude!" Beatha's tone was chilling.
"Surely it hasn't come to that," Edmund said, holding up the book once more. "How would it be if I killed Claude after breakfast, instead of before? I feel like that might be more sporting."
Beatha came into the library and slammed the door. "I am not making fun. I am deadly serious."
"Hence the demand to kill Claude," Edmund reasoned. She snatched the book out of his hands and threw it onto the table. He was left looking at his hands.
"You are the only one they will listen to. You are the only one who can make them see reason."
He looked at her more seriously. She sank down on the arm of a chair in dramatic exhaustion.
"Claude claims that he saw my cousin Helena consorting with another man in the garden yesterday evening," she said in reply to his unspoken question. "My cousin is innocent! You must come and make them see that."
"Claude was probably in his cups," Edmund said. "He'll see reason in time."
"It's not Claude that troubles me," she replied. "Your brother says he saw the same."
"This is more serious," Edmund said quietly.
"They were deceived somehow. I know they were," she replied. "I swear to you that Helena is innocent."
"You wish her to have a second chance despite all appearances?" Edmund asked dryly.
Lady Beatha stood up and walked a few paces before turning back to him, "Will you come and intercede for her?" she asked pleadingly.
"Yes, I will," Edmund said, standing up himself. "I believe that every accused is innocent until guilt can be proven."
"I know you do," she said softly.
Edmund flashed her a smile as he went to the door; he opened it for her, then followed her through. "If all else fails," he said, "I'll kill Claude for you."
~o*o~
The scene which met Edmund's eyes when he arrived at Lord Leon's study was chaotic. Peter was there, sitting on the edge of the desk with a troubled brow, the only island of stillness amid a sea of weeping and accusations. Claude was pacing up and down, Helena was sunk on the floor in the arms of Ursula, Lord Leon was waving his arms, begging for a dagger to plunge into his heart. From the scattered pieces, Edmund began to assemble a picture of what had occurred; apparently Helena had been seen kissing a man who wasn't Claude in the garden at eight o' clock the evening before.
"How like a maid she blushes!" Claude exclaimed. "Would you not swear, all you that see her, that she is innocent by these exterior shows? But she is not. Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty."
"I swear I was not in the garden!" Helena wailed.
"Frailty, thy name is woman!" Claude cried.
"Good grief," Edmund said and considered killing Claude right then and getting it over with.
"My cousin speaks the truth!" Lady Beatha exclaimed. "She was with me and Ursula all evening."
"The lady protests she is innocent, and Lady Beatha and Ursula declare they were with her all evening," Edmund said. "Do you accuse them both of lying as well?"
"But we saw her!" Claude exclaimed.
"It was also dusk in the shadows of a garden," Edmund replied. "The senses can be confounded by evening light, and by that hour it must have already begun to rain. Why could it not have been another lady you saw?"
"She was wearing the same dress," Claude said, "I saw her face. It was Helena."
"Who was the man?" Edmund asked. "If you so clearly saw her, surely you recognized him?"
"He was a tallish, thin man with fair hair and a ruddy complexion," Claude said. "I have seen him about with Margaret, one of Helena's ladies."
"It must have been Dalbert," Lady Beatha said when Helena looked at her suddenly.
"Where is Margaret?" Edmund asked.
She was sent for, and when she came, came in the company of Lord Peridan who was understandably confused about the mayhem. As with any late comer to a party, he was left to shift for himself and dream up any fantastical explanation for the chaos that he cared to. Margaret, meanwhile, was looking around at them all with some apprehension. Edmund took her hand and made her sit down, which seemed to make her even more alarmed.
"Where were you yesterday evening around eight o' clock?" he asked.
"I think I was in the garden, my lord," she said hesitantly.
"Were you alone?"
"No, my lord."
"Who was with you?"
She turned white, "I cannot say."
"Was it Dalbert?" Lady Beatha asked gently.
Margaret gazed up at her desperately. "I know he's only a swineherd," she exclaimed, "But I do love him so! We are sworn to be married. Please don't tell my father! He will be so angry!"
"We won't tell your father," Lady Beatha said comfortingly, "But perhaps my brother can speak to him. There is nothing wrong with falling in love with a swineherd."
Lord Peridan, from the vantage of a windowsill, looked a little skeptical at being so appropriated, but Margaret gazed up at him with such approbation sunlight seemed to fill the room.
"Margaret, did you see anyone else in the garden at that time?" Edmund asked.
"No, my lord," Margaret said, "Except… We did think we saw the High King and Lord Claude walking through the arbor before we were driven inside by the rain."
"Well," Edmund said, suddenly grinning, "At least we've verified they were in the garden at eight o' clock yesterday evening."
"This matter is becoming very strange," Peter said after Margaret had been sent from the room, "Because I still would swear it was not Margaret in the garden last night. I, too, would like to believe Helena, but I cannot change what I saw."
"Three of us saw it," Claude said stiffly.
"Three?" Edmund asked. "Who was the third?"
"Eoin was also there."
"Eoin was there?" Edmund exclaimed, "I would bet my right arm that the truth of this can be found with him!"
Peter quit the desk and went to the door. Margaret was still in the corridor, with all the guilty looks of someone who has been eavesdropping. Peter grinned at her, then dispatched her to find their occasionally visible Wizard.
Eoin, when he arrived, seemed very pleased to have been sent for. He enjoyed crowds and conversation. He was very adept at buttonholing people and talking until they wished they didn't have ears. Eoin was constantly scrambling 'elude' with 'allude' and 'effect' with 'affect', and was known to say things like 'irregardless', and 'hung' instead of 'hanged', which made Edmund want to bash his head against the wall.
"For what reason is this disassembly met?" He asked cheerfully.
"Eoin," Peter said seriously, "Are you in any way responsible for what we witnessed yesterday evening?"
Eoin beamed, "Rather good, wasn't it?"
"Out with it," Edmund said, "What did you do?"
"It was a fortuitous happenstance that Margaret was at that moment in the garden. It only took a tiny puff of an enchantment for them to see Helena in her place," Eoin said proudly.
"I said: 'hands off Claude'," Peter said sharply. "For that matter, hands off me."
"I never touched him!" Eoin cried, excessively hurt.
"What evil genius would drive you to do such a thing?" Edmund exclaimed, "You belied an innocent lady."
"Why, I believed it would please your grace if the romance was off," Eoin said in surprise. "Odorous things, romances."
"Whatever my views on romance may be, I am not in favor of meddling in other people's affairs," Edmund replied. It was likely true that he was responsible for what had passed. Eoin was gifted with a deadly combination of eagerness to please, far too literal interpretations of the spoken word, and a passable ability with magic. One had to be very careful what was said around him.
When it had finally been hammered very thoroughly into Claude's thick skull that his fair Helena had not been unfaithful to him, he turned white, then red. He wailed. He would have rent his clothes, but clothes aren't all that easy to rend.
"Don't flog yourself too much," Edmund said grudgingly. "You were honestly deceived. I expect it gives one a bit of a shock to see one's betrothed clasped in the arms of another."
"He should have gone to her and got the truth of it," Lady Beatha said sharply, "He should have had enough faith in her to know that she would not have betrayed him. Such an action on her part would have gone against her very character."
"You forget that I was there, lady; we saw her," Peter said. "It might not actually have been her, but I think we can be forgiven for thinking it was."
"You can, perhaps," Beatha said, turning to him, "But he cannot. There can be no love without trust and if he does not trust her word, he does not deserve her love."
"Everyone is allowed to make mistakes," Edmund said quietly, "Particularly in the face of what, by all reasonable explanation, seemed complete betrayal. He saw a scene which must have broken his heart."
"Everyone makes mistakes," Lady Beatha replied swiftly, "But no one is allowed to forgo remedying them afterwards."
Claude began to recover himself. He had not been listening to any of the conversation that had been ricocheting around the room.
"Lady," he said, turning to Helena, "Can I make amends? Speak one word. I would move heaven and earth to gain your forgiveness."
"No," Beatha said shortly from the background.
"I would run through fire for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, that through thy bosom makes me see thy heart." He sank on his knees before Helena, and Lady Beatha rolled her eyes, then caught Edmund's amused glance.
"He is a potted plant," Edmund whispered to her as Helena and Claude embraced and gazed into each other's lovesick eyes.
"My cousin whispers in his ear that he is forgiven," Beatha replied.
"And so she does, cousin," Claude replied, then turned to Helena again, "Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange."
"Perfectest?" Edmund murmured.
"Speak, cousin," Beatha said with an amused smile, "Or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, so he cannot speak either."
Author's Note: As usual Claude is nearly the only character who spouts straight Shakespeare. 'Frailty, thy name is woman' is from Hamlet, while 'I would run through fire for thy sweet sake...' is a line from A Midsummer's Night Dream. Eoin the occasionally visible wizard is, as you have probably already guessed, standing in for Dogberry, who is certainly one of Shakespeare's best characters.
Star (the anonymous reviewer): Thank you so much for your reviews. I'm always pleased when non-members comment, but unfortunately it makes it difficult to reply. I love what you shared about 'readers', "I miss people I have never met, long for places I have never been..." is quite poignant and true.
