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“I hate summers in Elsinore. It’s if the sun doesn’t exist at all,” grunted Hamlet when their carriage entered the city.
He was actually complaining during their entire trip from the university and the other five were absolutely exhausted by it. Several times, however, he fell asleep on Horatio’s lap which caused a stormy reaction in everyone but, as they must have suppressed it, Ros and Guil had to settle on waving their arms frantically in complete silence.
Unfortunately, the next night wasn’t that kind for the prince’s sleep. Firstly, he didn’t have Horatio’s lap in proximity as they decided to keep the actual nature of their relationship as secret as possible, and secondly, he had nightmares.
...He is walking with Horatio just outside the castle walls at night. The moon is shining bright but strangely sinister, and it makes both young men anxious for no substantial reason. Suddenly, Hamlet hears a sound. A terrifying sound. It is a voice.
“Mark me…”
He asks Horatio what it could be, but Horatio has heard nothing.
The voice rustles again.
“Mark me…”
Hamlet is transfixed while Horatio, oblivious of it, continues walking, eventually leaving the scene.
The place does look like a theatre scene now, but Hamlet only registers it with a corner of his eye.
“Mark me…”
“I will,” the prince responds, not knowing why, but knowing these are the right words.
His mind then is flooded with images of his father dead, dying painfully, being slowly covered with disgusting crust; of a black snake in the king’s crown, with poison seeping from its teeth; of his uncle in a snake-skin mantel, with the same crown on his head; of his mother, almost strangled by a black cord…
Hamlet sat up on his bed and sucked air in with a hissing sound, which made him flinch. In a minute, Horatio was woken up by an almost rude knock on the door, but he wasn’t surprised to see Hamlet when he opened it. He didn’t expect to see tears, though.
As bad luck would have it, the gang had an important scheme to pull in the morning.
Ros and Guil pretended to have been detained on the road to smuggle Ophelia and Magdalena into the city, where the girls were to dress as if they walked a long and dangerous way after “escaping their kidnappers” and arrive at the castle just in time for Hamlet and Horatio to find them in the garden.
However, the last two overslept and Ophelia had to dramatically limp to the guard and faint as if from starvation.
When the boys finally woke up and were summoned to see the former hostages, they were met with lightning bolts from Ophelia’s eyes, which made them think that it would be nice if someone kidnapped them as well.
The next day, all six of them finally gathered in Ophelia’s bedroom (she managed to successfully play the future-sister-in-law card and insisted on accommodating Magdalena with her until they both fully recovered).
The young lady was marching across the room and berating Hamlet, who was, again, lying on Horatio’s lap and staring at the ceiling.
“You blackmailed me to come back here and didn’t even bother to follow your own damn plan! And now I have to save the love of my life from marrying my dumb brother!”.
Magdalena blushed a bit.
“I promise you, my lady, I’ll think of something to help you just as I’m done with exposing my uncle and preventing dad’s death.”
“How did you even get this idea in your stupid head?” yelped Ophelia.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern wanted to know this too, but didn’t dare make a sound.
“I’ve told you already. I had a prophetic dream.”
“It doesn’t mean anything! Why are you so sure?!”
“It was real, Ophelia,” Hamlet stated with such stone coldness in his voice that everyone shivered.
“Actually, Lord Claudius does behave a bit odd,” Horatio noticed carefully, and before anyone said anything, he quickly continued, “I know, it’s only been two days since our return, but he is much gloomier than last summer.”
“We should spy on him,” Ros and Guil whispered in unison.
“That’s a great idea. I will even pay you!” the prince burst out and sat up.
The guys shouted “With pies?” and “With wine?” at the same time, so it was quite difficult to understand who said what (but everyone beside the newcomer Magdalena knew exactly who was the biggest pie enthusiast in the room).
“I hope the skills you are offering are worth more than that,” sighed Hamlet and fell back onto his lover’s lap.
“I won’t participate in this, even if you are right, Hamlet,” huffed Ophelia. “I will be busy spoiling my father’s matrimonial plans. Now shoo, we are ill and weak after weeks in fiendish confinement,” and she pushed the boys out of the room.
“No, you’re doing it wrong! Anyone will be able to see you,” and Ros tried to push Guil deeper into the shadows of the main corridor. “You don’t have to crouch, try blending into the wall. Stand straight.”
“I’m trying, Ros, but I have scoliosis!”
“You’re the worst spy I’ve ever seen. How come I found it out now? We’ve known each other since we were born!”
Ros’s complaints were suddenly interrupted by a sound of a low voice.
“What are you doing here so late at night, young lords?”
Guil panicked and started coughing violently, while Ros had to explain themselves to Lord Claudius (for it was he who startled them).
“We were… measuring walls… for our summer maths assignment!” he yelped and grinned because he liked this lie very much.
Claudius now looked a bit confused.
“I see… My homeschooling definitely lacked such imagination from the teachers… Anyway, I am really glad to meet you here. I’ve been looking for you, truth be told.”
“How so? What do we owe this honour, our... my lord?” wheezed Guil.
“I have a task for you both. I’m really worried about Prince Hamlet. I know how happy he seemed to be in Wittenberg, according to his letters to my brother and Gertrude. But I’m afraid the boredom of Elsinore won’t do him good. So I would like you to inform me whenever he feels down or behaves strangely, so I am able to help him at once.”
“Erm, actually, we’re kinda already doing the same thi…” Guil started to tell Claudius about their duty to the Queen, but Ros quickly elbowed him and edged in.
“We are happy to make a contribution to such a noble cause, my lord. Should we write to you or report in person?”
“Written reports will do. But send them privately and tell no one, I would like to keep it a secret.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Thank you for your understanding, young lords. Now I’ll leave you to your peculiar assignment,” and Claudius gracefully went down the corridor.
“Good night, my lord!” Ros cried, then turned to Guil and hissed, “You suck at improvisation too! You, of all people!”
“I’m sorry, maybe, I just still don’t feel that good after the trip… What was that, anyway? Aren't our reports to Queen Gertrude enough? So she was serious when she wrote that we don’t have to send them any more?!”
“I don’t know about that, but… Don’t you think it’s kinda suspicious of him to look for us at night and then ask us to spy on our friend when we’re already supposed to spy on him? And keep the whole business a secret? And why would he care that much about Hamlet when he never gave a damn (Ros crossed himself and Guil rolled his eyes) about him in 19 years?”
“Yes, it’s very suspicious. But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know. But we have some excellent news to tell Hamlet. Maybe, he’ll give us a pie for it alone.”
Ophelia was perching on a branch of a willow, vacantly stroking Magdalena’s palm and staring into the brook.
“I think sometimes I even can understand Hamlet, with his dark moods and suicidal tendencies. Especially when I sit here. When I’ve been sitting here alone, at least.”
“You’re not alone now,” the other girl pointed out.
“And if I won’t do something, I’ll soon be alone again,” Ophelia shot back, immediately mad at herself for such a reaction.
“I won’t leave you, I swear. Even when I’ll be Laertes’s wife.”
“Oh, I wish I could swear you would never marry him!” and the young lady squeezed Magdalena’s hand too tight, but soon recollected herself.
“Let’s just sit here and enjoy the weather for now,” Magdalena carefully suggested.
“Alright,” Ophelia responded weakly and burrowed her face into her lover’s shoulder, trying her best not to cry.
The sky, however, soon burst into water.
"Horatio's gonna kill us even though it's not his book," Ros mumbled worriedly, flipping through a soaked volume of Ovid.
"It will be okay, there are so many books in the castle's library, no one will notice." Guil responded carelessly.
"Hamlet was right, the sun here is a rare sight."
"At least the rain is warm."
"I'd rather have it cold, so we would stop dancing and go to the shack right away. The book would still be dry."
At that moment they both were lying on hay only wearing hose because their wet shirts and stockings were spread over wooden boxes to dry. Ros squeezed water from Guil's lovelock and kept playing with it a bit too nervously for the lock's owner who first brushed the hand off but then felt he should ask a question.
"Are you alright, my love? Something definitely bugs you beside the book."
Ros looked at Guil with a surprise.
"It's just… all these situations with Hamlet and Ophelia. Everything turns around them and them only now," he sniffed. "Do you think we are side characters?"
“I don’t know. We might be, for sure, if you put it in someone else’s perspective but… you will always be the main character in my story,” Guil’s voice suddenly started trembling by the end of that speech.
“Aww. It’s so cheesy and lovely at the same time, just as if I said it.”
“I can be cheesy too, don’t underestimate me, thank you very much.”
“Oh, I’ll never do that.”
They cuddled closer, however still a bit melancholic, but you can blame it on the weather.
Hamlet was lying on a sofa in his chambers with Horatio next to him in a chair. The boy was sketching Hamlet’s portrait, but couldn’t quite pinpoint his expression.
It was both pessimistic and desperate at the same time. Horatio could swear he could hear the buzzing of Hamlet's thoughts.
Suddenly, the prince threw his hands in the air and, just as quickly, covered his face.
Horatio sighed and put the sketch away. He knew that Hamlet could spend another hour in this position, and it's quite difficult to draw a face which is hidden. Instead, he came closer and kneeled next to Hamlet's head. He didn't try to remove the hands and just touched the fingers that were almost white, so firmly they were pressed into the prince's forehead.
Hamlet only groaned and didn't move a bit.
"Hey,” Horatio started, “sometimes I think about your dream, and it makes me sad. Not because of its general meaning, but because I left you there alone.”
“You know perfectly that this is how dreams work and I had to face it all one on one,” Hamlet responded impassively.
“And still.”
Horatio changed position and sat, wrapping arms about his knees, head resting on Hamlet’s shoulder.
“I want you to know I am here for you. As unoriginal it might sound, it’s still true.”
“I know that, Horus. Oh, no, not Horus. Too many similarities for me to bear now.”
Horatio wanted to ask what he meant, but decided to refresh his memory of the myth later himself.
"Call me anything you want. I never really liked Horus anyway.”
“I’ll think of something. This time it will be something soft and sweet, as you are.”
“Now, this does sound a bit unoriginal. Like something Ros would say.”
“Ros says so many things, it’s unpredictable what you hear from him next.”
“He and Guil are always unpredictable, no matter how much they talk.”
"Yet, I think they are hiding somewhere now and kissing," Hamlet finally pulled his hands away from his face and awkwardly hugged Horatio with one arm.
"We might as well be too," Horatio carefully pointed out.
"Come then, my bird," Hamlet said with sudden liveliness and sat up.
"My bird? I like this one, much more than Horus," Horatio smiled and joined the prince on the sofa. This particular mood change wasn't that bad.
"I have another word in my mind, but it is only slightly connected with your name," Hamlet whispered conspiratorially and almost giddily.
Horatio rolled his eyes.
"If this is another joke about the thing that rhymes with it, then, my prince, please go and ask Ophelia to give you some dirty talk lessons."
It was quite difficult for Ros and Guil to understand why exactly the entire court, including the King, had to listen to Polonius planning Laertes’s wedding at the supper, especially when there was perfectly splendid beef on everyone’s plates.
Yet, Polonius kept talking.
“It is only reasonable to postpone the wedding until these vicious kidnappers are unmasked,” Gertrude carefully suggested (maybe, also in an effort to shut the counsellor up. It didn’t work.)
“Of course, I agree, my lady, but still, it would be so great to use this time to try and cover as many little things as possible. For example, flowers in the bride’s crown...”
Ros and Guil were sitting next to Horatio and tried to coax him into betting on how soon Hamlet would demonstratively fall on his face into his plate, but Horatio had too much faith in his boyfriend. They would try to talk girls into it, but they were sitting at the opposite side of the table and, moreover, looked as if they were quite bitter at them. Ros and Guil had no idea why.
The thing was that they had Laertes between them (literally, not only in this forthcoming-wedding sense), and while the boys were constantly elbowing and kicking each other with affection (no one had paid attention to it for ten years already), they could only stare at their plates and crave each other’s touch and comfort. And they needed it, with all this Polonius planning.
“And what joy it would be to have two weddings in one day!” gasped Polonius out of nowhere.
Silence fell onto the table, and everyone froze up until Gertrude gave a careful cough.
“And who are these other lovebirds?”
“Oh, I thought it was obvious to the court but, perchance, the couple wanted to keep it a secret.”
Guil inhaled much too loudly and whispered into Ros’s ear (quietly enough this time), “Wait, we are allowed to marry?”
“Oh my, are you asking me to ma...”
But Polonius disturbed the proposal-or-whatever-it-was and started speaking again.
“And I would not wish to interfere in your own family affairs, my lord, my lady, but I, on my part, have no intention to prevent these young souls from uniting their loving hearts...”
“Oh, he doesn’t mean us,” whispered Guil disappointedly.
“What a pity,” Ros replied with even more frustration.
“Are you talking about Hamlet, Counsellor?” Gertrude asked suspiciously.
“Of course!”
“And who is the lucky bride, then?”
Ophelia was the first to realize that it was her, and her face immediately turned green.
“I would be so honoured to see my daughter by the prince’s side… Oh, I might not even deserve this honour but seeing them together, talking with such fondness…”
“When was that?” Hamlet asked a bit too harshly for a noble person (which, however, was absolutely understandable at the moment.)
But the king, who was too bored to participate in the conversation up to this moment, suddenly got very enthusiastic.
“They do seem a rather balanced couple. Hamlet’s ambitions will only benefit from Ophelia’s natural wisdom and sobriety, clearly inherited from her father and late mother (oh, poor thing). They will make a perfect royal couple. And I’m confident that only this can make Hamlet an adequate king.”
Hamlet went with the first thought that came to his mind.
“I don’t want to be the king, daaaad!”
“And who do you think is an option? This dumb cock Fortinbras?”
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern spurted wine all over the table, and Gertrude gave them a look. Her face, however, showed a wish to pour her wine out on both her husband’s and Polonius’s heads. Ophelia wouldn’t mind that, either.
But for some reason, the only face Hamlet could actually see in his surge of anger was Horatio’s. The boy was staring at Claudius, white as snow, and when he looked back at Hamlet, the prince realised what he just said.
He sprang up, pushed his chair back with a screeching sound and stormed away to his bedroom.
Five or so minutes later, he had to answer the door. It was his mother.
“Listen. I know you think of me as archaic and bothersome, but I want you to know I am always here for you,” Gertrude said gently.
Hamlet looked at her sceptically.
“You’re not the first one to say this today.”
The queen ignored it.
“I will try my best to make your father change his mind about your marriage. I can see that there is no harmony between you and Ophelia that Polonius somehow manages to see. And I wish with all my heart that your father will live long enough for you to feel prepared for the throne.”
“Thank you,” said the prince. He wanted to sound dry, but failed to hide his affection.
Gertrude kissed her son on the forehead and went away to her chambers. Hamlet shut the door and was halfway to his bed to fall on it with his face down in the pillows when he heard someone knocking again. This time, however, the person outside opened the door themself, and Horatio entered the room.
“That was quite reckless of you,” he said. There was neither judgement nor sorrow in his voice, only a statement.
“I worked it out already.”
“I know you need support now, but I should really go and check on Ophelia. She is having a hard time too.”
Hamlet came up to him, took his hands and whispered: “You’re such a good person.”
“Don’t you dare start rambling about how you don’t deserve me,” Horatio interrupted sharply.
They stood in silence for some time.
“I hope Ophelia will think of something. Well, I have no doubt she will,” Hamlet finally said. “She just needs some inspiration.”
“That’s exactly what I was planning to give her. So I probably should go. And you should go to bed.”
“Alright,” sighed Hamlet.
“Don’t worry, you know where to find me if another nightmare comes,” Horatio spoke softly, kissed the prince on the forehead and left.
“Things keep repeating today,” murmured Hamlet, closing the door.
He slept well.
While Hamlet was sleeping till noon like any royal youngster would do, the girls were hiding from the world in Ophelia’s bedroom, and Ros and Guil were God knows where, Horatio took a moment to read. He was often annoyed by everyone thinking that his love for books was his only character trait, but he did love books. He also loved writing, but it was a secret. He had been planning for some time already to find a printing shop in the city and print some of his works to show his friends anonymously and see their true opinion. But he still hadn’t got round to it.
He went with Iliad that day - the classics never disappoint - and was just reading one of the Cassandra moments when he heard his door creak.
“Hamlet?” he asked, still sitting at his desk with his back to the door.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Hamlet’s voice was too coarse for Horatio’s liking, and he turned around, bracing himself for yet another consolation séance.
“I was dead sure you were still in bed. Did anything happen?”
“My uncle happened.”
“Meaning?..”
“I’ve just searched his chambers.”
Horatio couldn’t help but facepalm.
“This is even more reckless than proclaiming you don’t want to be the heir to the throne when you sit right next to a murderous king wanna-be!”
“I know, but I planned everything. Ros and Guil helped me with the distraction.”
“How exactly, I wonder?”
“I have no idea, I left it to them, actually.”
“I definitely trust them with scheming more than you. And have you found anything?”
“Oh, the hell I have,” and Hamlet retrieved a vial from his pocket.
“Is that… poison?!” gasped Horatio.
“It’s hebona.”
“How do you know that?.. Oh. Hamlet. Hamlet. Please tell me you haven’t tried…”
Hamlet only gave Horatio a long heavy look, so the boy had to begrudgingly recollect himself.
“I gather that you’ll show it to your parents, and we’ll be done with this nightmare?”
The prince managed to look at Horatio even heavier.
“No. It alone won’t convince them. Why would anyone believe such accusations when they come out of the blue? No. I’m going to poison him myself.”
Horatio felt his knees weaken.
“Please don’t do it. You’re not that stupid.”
“Well, maybe, I’m that desperate!”
“God, Hamlet, I know you don’t care about sin as a concept, but murder… You’ll never forgive yourself when you realize what you’ve done.”
“It will be for the best,” Hamlet’s voice was cold as stone.
"It won't, Hamlet! Your mom will be devastated! You'll go to prison! For the rest of your life!"
Horatio's knees got even weaker, they gave up for good, and the boy dropped to the floor. He suddenly felt absolutely exhausted.
"It's not that I'm kneeling to beg you now, Hamlet. But I'll do it if I have to."
Strangely, it worked. Hamlet fell to the floor too, ever so unpredictable, and started crying, chaotically grabbing Horatio by hands, shoulders, elbows, and finally settling his palms on Horatio's cheeks.
"You are wrong, I am that stupid, I never care enough about anyone's feelings but mine, I'm such a fool, such a cruel fool!"
"You can still learn to care, you definitely have potential for that," Horatio reassured him and quietly sniffed.
"W-will you help me get rid of the poison? I think it would be best to pour it out and bury the vial."
"Well, this does sound like a good plan."
“And, my lord, are you in any way interested in astronomy?” casually asked Guil, standing in the point of the castle garden which was the farthest from Claudius’s chambers.
“How could one not be? Cosmos is God’s greatest creation, after a man, of course!” Claudius proclaimed. “I envy you greatly, young lords. I wish I had the opportunity to study in Wittenberg.”
“It might seem blatant, sir, but what would you think about us tutoring you? Not that much of tutoring, per si, but just transmitting the knowledge we have received to you.”
Ros, who was hiding in bushes nearby, slapped his forehead and quietly moaned, “It’s per se, Guil, you stupid,” but Guil, obviously, couldn’t hear him.
“I think we could lend you our books as we do not need them that much for the summer. I would do it right now, my lord, only I have a meeting in a minute right on this spot.”
“It would be delightful. And, by coincidence, I also have a meeting in the maze. I gather, we have our arrangement fixed?”
“Of course, my lord, we deliver the books to you after supper,” and Guil bowed. Claudius left as gracefully as always, and in a second Ros fell out of the bushes.
“Such a shame he’ll have to go to prison. What a hunger for knowledge! And it’s fucking per se, Guil, pull up your Latin!”
“I hope Hamlet is done with his searching. But Claudius won’t see anything from the maze anyway.”
“Oh, oh, oh! What if he…” Ros started.
“...is meeting his acc...” Guil continued.
“...OMPLICES!!” they both cried at once.
“We must listen in. We are going to get so many pies for it, Guil, I’m so happy! One for spying that night, one for covering Hamlet now, and another one for eavesdropping!”
“Ros, please, can we settle on two pies and one bottle of wine?” Guil whined.
“Well, okay. We’ll have to wash the pies down with something anyway,” Ros agreed after twenty seconds of contemplation.
The boys moved closer to the maze. It didn't take them long to pinpoint where exactly Claudius and his companion(s) were. They didn't want to stay right around the corner from them, so the spies climbed over the hedge just so there was only a wall between them (and if you thought that it's impossible to climb a hedge secretly enough, then, oh, you haven't met Ros and Guil.)
"This is preposterous, Claudius. How could you even think of it?"
The voice belonged to Queen Gertrude.
"I don't know how well you are informed on the situation in Denmark, but let me give you an update. The King is hated by everyone. Nobility, Church, even peasants, whoever would ask them… Norway is laughing at us. And I know I can change it.”
“But why drag me into this? I can understand why you would be conspiring and scheming, I’ve never expected more of you. But what do I have to do with this? Do you not have enough connections and opportunities to do the job yourself?”
“It is obvious that you hate Hamlet as well as anyone else. You never loved him. And I doubt he ever loved you.”
“I do not hate him enough to kill him,” Gertrude almost hissed. “And if you think I would love you, especially if your plan succeeded, you are as mistaken as a bird that keeps caring about a cuckoo’s egg!”
“Oh, I see now whom Hamlet Junior inherited his dramatic talent from.”
“I will report this immediately, Claudius, and if you did not think of it while arranging this meeting...”
“You will not tell anyone a thing about this conversation.”
“I am not someone to be frightened into silence.”
“I know precisely what can frighten you enough.”
Gertrude huffed.
“It’s in my power to make the rumours about your son into something more substantial. The court takes great pleasure in discussing his actual reasons not to marry Ophelia as well as this little friend of his.”
Silence fell onto the maze, and if looks could burn holes in hedges, Claudius would be long dead from ignition.
“You are a filthy snake, Claudius, but you have my silence, I concede.”
And, judging by the rustle of fabrics, the queen stormed away. Claudius left in a moment, but it was hard to tell his mood.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were sitting with their backs to the hedge and with their hands over each other’s mouths.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood for pies any more,” Ros mumbled finally.
“I think I’m in the mood for murder,” Guil almost growled.
“I was going to ask Hamlet, like, doesn’t Claudius have to kill Hamlet too, because he is the immediate heir and stuff, but...”
“God, I’m so afraid now.”
Ros clasped Guil’s hand, and they sat in silence for three minutes.
Finally, Guil stood up and brushed himself down.
“Come. I suppose Hamlet would want to hear all this as soon as possible.”
Ros stood up too, shaking a bit.
“You know, my love, I don’t want to be the main character in this story any more.”
To say that Hamlet reacted badly would be an understatement. The reaction was violent. The prince booted his chair and wanted to tear down the bed curtains, but the look on his friends' faces calmed him down a bit.
"I'm going to…" he finally gasped out, but Horatio coldly interrupted him.
"You promised."
"Promised what?" Ros and Guil asked simultaneously, but the question remained unanswered.
Hamlet fell on his bed and cried, "I hate him so much, it's unbelievable! Why is this happening? He was a good enough uncle all this time, why?"
"At least, he should be careful enough not to put his plan in action until the weekend," Horatio mused.
Hamlet sprang up.
"Why so?"
"There's a theatre coming to Elsinore, and they got permission to stay at the castle's premises, for some reason," Horatio shrugged. "It's too many witnesses."
"A theatre?.. I might have an idea then…"
Ros and Guil once again felt like they were far, far away from understanding the conversation. And also very giddy because! A theatre! Was coming! To town!
This news definitely lifted the burden of anxiety from their hearts, and they quickly excused themselves and left the chambers, too excited even to hear Hamlet's plan.
But the theatre hadn't arrived yet, so the boys had to look for something to engage themselves in. They were roaming the garden as if an activity was a physical object to find until they stumbled upon Ophelia's favourite tree.
They weren't exactly surprised to see the girl sitting there. But she was alone, and that was strange.
"Oh no, Ophelia, are you crying?" Ros gasped.
"No, I'm not," Ophelia said, sniffing and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
"Hmm, maybe, I forgot what crying looks like. You, Guil?"
"I haven't seen people crying for quite some time already, so I'm no authority here," Guil replied with an academic note to his voice.
Ophelia smiled a weak smile.
The boys flanked her and hugged her gently.
"What's wrong, my sweet lady?" Guil softly spoke.
“You know precisely what’s wrong,” the girl answered with her signature irritation.
“We’re so sorry that we are helping Hamlet more than you. But you know how demanding he can be,” Ros apologized.
“You, too, can be demanding, don't get us wrong,” Guil added quickly.
“What can we do for you?”
Ophelia hummed.
“You can kidnap Laertes.”
“Haven’t we played the kidnapping card already, though?”
“Yes, we have. Think of something else, Ophi.”
“I’ve thought the hell out of my brain already!” she snapped. “I can only think of murder now, but Hamlet would say that I stole his thunder.”
“But it’s a sin, Ophelia!” Ros crossed himself (making Guil’s eyes roll once again).
"We should do something that will change your dad's mind," Guildenstern continued.
"He's a stubborn old mule, nothing will help! And don't forget Magdalena's parents who are very determined about all that too!"
"Okay, then, since the wedding is postponed until the "kidnappers" are arrested, we can play with fake clues to show that danger is still out there," Ros suggested.
"Fake clues themselves won't be enough, because dad has actually set the date already, but maintaining the danger level… At least, it can distract him for the time that will be enough to come up with a more substantial plan," mused Ophelia.
"And we can work with his love to detail and make sure he spends at least another week on choosing the right colour for tablecloths," Guil said and snorted.
"I personally would go with lilac if I could afford more than a foot by foot piece of it…" sighed Ros.
"It would look splendidly adorable, my love," Guil nodded and stood up. "I think we should bid you farewell until supper."
"Please don't be sad, Ophi, we will definitely work this out," Ros reassured the girl and got to his feet too. "Also, there's a theatre coming to town, and you can ask the actors to hide a secret message in their play to mess with Polonius's subconscious!"
"Oh, I think I understand now what was the idea that Hamlet thought of just when we left," Guil said slowly.
Ophelia felt really stupid for a second, then asked, "But how the hell is it supposed to work?!"
But there was no one to respond.
Ros and Guil ultimately met the troupe after supper and had a really long and extensive conversation with them, and especially with their leader - the Player (what a weird name, they thought.) But for the sake of intrigue, we will keep its content private for a while.
The boys were bubbling with their secret but the opportunity to surprise everyone was much more important to them, so they just looked extremely mysterious all the time. Hamlet was unbelievably irritated by it, partly because he also had a meaningful dialogue with the Player but couldn’t even afford to be mysterious, so Claudius wouldn’t suspect anything.
And finally, the opening night has come.
Hamlet Sr. was sitting in the centre of the improvised auditorium with Gertrude on the right and, since Hamlet insisted on lying on the floor in the front row, with Claudius on the left. This time, Ophelia and Magdalena were divided not only by Laertes, but Polonius too, so Ophelia swapped places with Horatio and sat next to Hamlet, so she could sneakily put her head on Magdalena's lap. Horatio, with that, got a perfect viewpoint of Claudius. Placing of the rest of the court was sporadic and of no importance. Ros and Guil were nowhere to be seen.
The play to be performed was a hash-up from the tragedy of Orestes, with Clytemnestra's storyline and basically everything about Orestes cut. The only reason the Player went with it was his dramaturgical ambitions. He promised to add some scenes for the performance to be long enough but didn't tell what they would be. Hamlet insisted on skipping the interacts, and it was the alteration the Player didn't actually like. However, a money bag changed his mind.
Since the plan and all its details were laid up in such a hurry, Hamlet hadn't seen the final edition of the play and was sitting (lying) on tenterhooks.
Meanwhile, everything was going fine. The Prologue said their part, still a bit surprised how short it was after the edition. The actors presented their characters: a discerning and loving Queen, an authoritative King, and the King’s unspecified relative, who at first didn’t come off as a villain, but the troupe musician added a tint of suspicion with a low vibrating sound of his lute. Thankfully, the actors (almost) didn’t mess up their new lines and names.
The second act was more meaningful, with the Relative pouring poison into the King’s wine and having a side conversation with the Queen, who was outraged by his proposal, and, finally, the King dropping on the floor (with a bit too much histrionic for Hamlet’s liking.)
The plan seemed to be working. Horatio clearly saw Claudius’s face going grey at the very moment when the pretend Queen hissed her final words of the dialogue. Then Hamlet's uncle excused himself and left in a hurry when the pretend King fell. Gertrude, at the same time, looked as if she was on the brink of realising something but not quite getting it yet. But the real King looked bored and unimpressed. That got Hamlet really frustrated, yet he hoped that this bit would inspire the Queen to share her unwanted secret.
But then the third act came, and it made everyone forget what they were intended to say, if anything at all.
Enters Prologue (or should we say Interlogue?). They bowed to the audience and proclaimed, “Noble lords and ladies, let us give you an insight to the criminal inclinations of that murderous personage we have all seen a moment before. You see, besides his natural vanity and envy, there was one more thing that moulded his character. Behold! His nautical alma mater!”
The curtains parted, and the court saw the scene, crowded with broken barrels, and the arras covered with fabric that seemed to act as sails.
In the centre of all this stood two pirates, dressed in ragged clothes and stockings with horizontal black-and-white stripes. Their faces were hidden behind false beards in screaming orange, but it was obvious to everyone that the actors were actually Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
They stood in very dramatic positions and held an even more dramatic pause. Finally, after someone in the audience coughed impatiently, they started speaking in unison.
"Hmm, what are we seeing? Is that land? No, it's not, we are stranded forever in the midst of the sea. Oh, cruel mistress! Will you ever set us free?"
They made a pirouette and dropped to the ground.
"Nice bit of planking, that," Ros started out of nowhere in an absolutely casual voice and knocked on the floor (which was made of stone).
"Yes, I'm very fond of boats myself," Guil responded meaningfully, and someone in the audience gave out a pronounced sound of total incomprehension (or, in simple words, "ummm").
"I always wanted to be a carpenter myself, yet, now I am a pitiful pirate," Ros continued.
"That's a tad bit biblical," Guil mused. Ros looked at him with round eyes, and someone in the audience gasped (apparently, it was the same person).
"Let me entertain you, my sombre friend," said the blasphemer, and Ros sighed with relief, because they went back to the scenario.
Guil took out a flute (at that moment, Hamlet, Horatio and Ophelia got really tense). He elegantly put it to his lips, took a deep breath and… produced a sound that could only be compared to a battle cry of a very distressed elephant.
And he continued playing this "melody" for a minute more, until the same emotional member of the audience quietly moaned, "Oh God".
The young actors took it as their cue, sprang up to their feet, quickly bowed and disappeared behind the arras.
Silence fell onto the court. Finally, all the original (real) actors walked out on the stage, and the audience gave them a decent round of applause as if they were relieved they would never see the young pirates again.
People started to leave the hall, the troupe got busy with dismantling the scene, and the gang decided to find the debutants.
Ros and Guil were standing just outside the hall, glowing, bloating with pride and absolutely oblivious of the nature of the looks people gave them on their way out.
They were just opening their mouths to ask how their friends liked their performance, but...
“You distracted everyone and spoiled my plan!” yelped Hamlet.
“It wasn’t going anywhere anyway,” Ophelia rolled her eyes.
“Your plan was bad to begin with!” huffed Ros, and Guil added with injury in his voice, “Now he knows you know, and all the information we heroically gathered is useless!”
“And we still haven’t got our well-deserved pies!”
“And wine!”
“You just take us for granted, Hamlet, while we love you unconditionally!”
“And now we have one condition…”
“Give us our pies!”
“Ros, I didn’t mean that… but actually, you know what, our prince? It will do.”
And the boys turned around in sync and gracefully went down the corridor.
“You’re such a drama prince, Hamlet!” Ophelia flung up her hands. “You have managed to make them cross at you, and it’s even more unbelievable than a reasonable thought in my dad’s head!”
Quiet all that time, Horatio carefully suggested, “You should at least go to the kitchen and have some pies made and sent to them. And wine.”
“Alright, alright!” and Hamlet stormed off.
On his way to the kitchen, the prince realised as well, that this entire plan was a mistake. He only managed to frighten his mother and let Claudius know that someone was onto him.
And now, no matter how many witnesses were there, there would be no attempts. They had planted a perfect copy of the hebona vial, so his uncle wouldn't suspect anything, and then he, Hamlet, threw it all away.
In a dead voice, the prince gave cooks the order to bake three pies and then chose three wine bottles himself. After arranging the delivery, he came back to his chambers. Horatio was waiting for him there and looked like he wasn't going to leave until the morning (not in the intimate sense).
"You have something to tell me, don't you?", Hamlet asked plainly.
"Yes. I think the best thing to do now is to ask Ros, Guil and Ophelia to help us with a new plan. They are way better at mischief."
"This is not mischief, it's the matter of life and death!"
"And still. Also, it might help you to save your friendship. If you treated me like you treat them (and Ros was quite right about it), I wouldn’t want to be with you."
“You’re right, as always,” the prince lowered his head in surrender.
The next morning, the girls and the chaotic couple were summoned (via an official letter with Hamlet’s seal that no one knew existed) to the prince's chambers. Ophelia was grim, Magdalena - very nervous, and Ros and Guil just wanted to ask where they could get their own seal (one for both, obviously) and then go away.
They knocked and Horatio opened the door. Hamlet was standing in the centre of the room with his hands behind his back and a solemn expression on his face.
The rest of the gang took their seats in the chairs, aligned against the wall in such a fashion they could clearly see Hamlet, but it would take them some effort to leave.
“I would li... I must apologize for my recent actions and my all-time behaviour,” Hamlet started dramatically. “And I am immensely sorry that I only realised that because I need help from you.”
Horatio coughed.
“And because my dear Horatio generously pointed it out. Oh, by the way, Ros, Guil, did you like my parcel?”
“It was okay,” Ros answered flatly.
“Ophelia, I need you to know I understand that your unfortunate challenge cannot be solved with any parcel. I will do my best to assist you in your efforts.”
“When you’re done with yours, I get it.”
"I'm good at multitasking," Hamlet pointed out.
"No, you are not!" everyone (except Magdalena) yelped.
"Okay, then I take on your problem, and you take on mine. Deal?"
"Alright. But you must get my approval on your plan first, so you don't destroy everything like you-know-when-the-last-time."
Hamlet humbly made a bow.
"Your wish is my command, my lady."
"So what do you want from us, after all?" Guil inquired impatiently.
"I need a plan. That works. Actually and ultimately works."
Ros and Guil hummed in unison.
"Let me get it straight, Hamlet," Magdalena asked suddenly, "Claudius knows that you know, Gertrude doesn't know you know, but she Knows with the capital K. And if anyone else gets to Know, you will get a bell, book and candle minimum."
"Y-yes," the prince agreed, stumbled by all these "knows".
"And the only person, who is safe to hear all of this without you getting your life destroyed, is your dad?"
"Uh-huh."
"Then, maybe, it will be a good idea to confront Claudius in such a way the King will hear it and believe you?"
Ros and Guil hummed again, this time with appreciation.
"The only thing why I'm not sure with this plan is the logistics of it," Magdalena capitulated.
"I can entice Claudius wherever, we can take this off the list. The difficulty is, I have no idea how to get dad in a good enough position to both overhear and stay hidden…" Hamlet spoke.
"Is your dad, perchance, interested in maths?.." Ros asked out of nowhere.
"Not even a bit. Why?"
"Well, it worked once... Сan't win them all, then…" Ros whispered sadly.
But Guil understood exactly that he was talking about, and quickly suggested another interpretation of that school assignment getaway that you might remember.
"Does he like inventory control?"
"Wha–"
"You know, inspections and stuff. To check whether all the tapestries are in good condition, count how many china cooks and servants broke, etc."
"I don't know for sure, but it sounds very much like him."
"Then we just need to find a curtain that can be a hiding place and ask your dad to inspect it."
"And you will bring Claudius to the room at the same time," concluded Magdalena.
"God, this is an amazing plan, I would've never thought of it!"
"Thank us later," grumbled Ros, "when it works."
"I just thought," Hamlet whispered into Horatio's shoulder when they both were lying in bed and struggling to sleep the night before the D-Day, "uncle will definitely threaten me with blackmail, as he did mom."
"The King will get him arrested right there and Claudius won't get even a tiny opportunity to hurt us."
"Yes. But dad will hear. I don't know how he will react, but my guess isn't reassuring at all."
"You have your mother on your side. I'm sure she will be able to soften his heart."
“I don’t believe she’s that powerful, my bird.”
“Then I will pray for it with all my heart, my prince.”
“Come here, our… my lord. I have heard a rumour that this tapestry curtain is your favourite,” blabbed Ros, almost pulling the king by the hand. “Just yesterday I saw a small hole in it, and I worry so much that it might go bigger with time.”
(The hole in question was carefully made by Guil only half an hour ago.)
“Do you see it, my lord? Oh, it is more visible from the other side,” Ros added, hoping that Hamlet Sr. wouldn’t ask him what he had been doing behind a curtain hanging in the main hall.
And then they both went behind the curtain.
“Thank you for drawing my attention to this, young Guildenstern,” said the King to Ros’s surprise (not because he mixed the friends up but because this crazy idea worked.) “I do appreciate this particular tapestry very much. And the hole looks dangerous indeed.”
“... and you know precisely what I can do to you, you pathetic little insect,” they heard Claudius’s voice and the pair of rivals entered the hall.
“I’ll live with it, uncle, this isn’t more important to me than your devious plan,” Hamlet hissed in response. “Disclosing my secret won’t help you anyway because I’m the rightful heir. Will you kill me, or have me killed, as you plan my father?"
"It will be my pleasure. A serpent's bite and a high cliff will not cause any suspicion."
"What is it I hear?" roared the king, flying the curtain open. “Do not dare convince me that you are rehearsing another dreadful play!”
“We are definitely not, father,” Hamlet affirmed.
“Speak then, Claudius, my beloved brother, what is this serpent’s bite intended to be? Rosen… Guilden… tapestry boy, go fetch the guards!"
Claudius stood motionless, with his face arrogant and white as plaster.
And Hamlet whispered, "So, uncle, here you are."
***
"Of course, you're gonna wind off to England and forget that you promised to help us," yelled Ophelia. "I'm so tired of being angry and sad all the time! And you're only making it worse!"
"It's not my idea, Ophi, I'm sorry! Dad made me do it, so Claudius won't be able to orchestrate my revenge murder from the prison. I would gladly take you both with me, but it's too suspicious."
Ophelia hid her face in her hands.
"I'm just so lost right now."
Magdalena hugged her.
"Everything will end well," she reassured her quietly.
"I'll give you money, so you can realise any plan you'll come up with. It's the least and the most I can do, because, obviously, I suck in plotting."
"You can provide Ros and Guil with whatever they want to consume, because all their plans work every time however impossible they are," suggested Horatio.
The appraised plotters expressed a very loud but unintelligible approval.
"I can give you some money too," Hamlet sighed and gave Horatio a look.
"We have no ideas now, though," Ros said.
"We will strrrrain our minds, Ophelia, we promise," added Guil.
"And we do keep our promises," concluded Ros, which made Hamlet start bubbling.