Work Text:
"William, come already!" Anne's steps echoed as she approached the bedroom where her husband was working.
William stood up slowly, leaving some half-finished writing behind and stepped out of the chamber. "What bothers thee, my sweet?" he asked, annoyance echoing in his words as he was obligated to abandon his work.
"A traveller is seeking the great William Shakespeare. He desires to have a word with you," Anne smiled. "A client, perchance?"
The wooden door creaked open, revealing a tall man at the entrance. His face revealed no kindness, nor was it hostile; yet he seemed cold as ice.
"May I assist you anyhow?" William asked expectantly.
"Good day to you, sir. My name is Horatio, and I am here in the commission of His Royal Highness, Prince Hamlet of Denmark." The man's English was almost perfect.
*
"Prince Hamlet you say," William spoke slowly, now sitting by the stone fireplace, sipping his tea, "I have been informed of his death almost two whole years ago. Have I been led on? Has all of England?"
Horatio wrapped his fingers tightly around a thick book, his thumb brushing the leather cover. He seemed rather tense. "To my pity it is, to have you informed that I had witnessed my sweet Lord Hamlet take his last breath exactly six hundred and fifty-two days ago. He... His Royal Highness adored your work, my good sir. Sleepless nights he told me about a time years ago when he had the fortune to watch one of your works in The Globe. He also commanded Danish actors to recreate some scenes of your stage performances."
"A pleasure to hear," William smiled softly, "A commission of the prince, you said, brings you here, is that correct?"
"I had been, for somewhat seven months, the advisor and courtier of His Majesty, King Fortinbras. I had, however, not been able to stay in Elsinore any longer. Haunted by memories of those four months I spent there with... Hamlet. Ever since, I have been travelling, first in Denmark, then returned to Wittenberg, telling everyone what happened. I could not keep on with my studies anymore. I am a studied man, Sir, I speak multiple languages and know poetry. I have been writing this story, a play, a genre His Royal Highness adored so deeply."
"And you adored him deeply," William smiled sympathetically at the younger man. Horatio looked down at the book and slowly reached it out towards the playwright with a shaky right hand.
"Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Everything that had happened."
The Englishman watched his guest with observant eyes."You want me to perform," he spoke finally, taking and examining the book.
"I know it is a lot to ask," the Dane was now straight up nervous, "Sir, when Prince Hamlet was dying, I held him in my arms. I will not lie, I wished I died, and I still do. There is only one thing that is keeping me here. He made me promise I would spread the word. To let the people know what happened in Elsinore. I don't want the world to know me. I want them to see Hamlet."
William flipped through the pages. Well-written, it was, pleasant words to his eyes. After about ten minutes of silence, he looked back up. "I had a son called Hamnet. He passed away last year." He didn't, nor did Horatio know what to say. Finally, the Englishman spoke again, "I will perform it. I give you my word."
The first performance of 'The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark' happened in 1601. The morning after the premiere, the news of a man who had fallen off a tall building was read in the press. Accident, they said. He earned no more than twenty words, as he was not noble and nobody recognised his face. All they stated was that he looked Nordic, had brown, curly hair and oculars lying next to him on the cobblestone road. From then on, though, the performers of Hamlet worked extra hard to bring grace to the name of a prince who died for the sake of Honor.
Since then, the tragedy has been translated into more than seventy-five languages and has been performed in theatres, on screen, represented in games and taught in literature lessons. Every person on this Earth and beyond knows the name Hamlet, and believe me as I say this, they will never forget it until the end of time.