Kissing Shakespeare (16 page)

T
HAT NIGHT
, I
TOLD
S
TEPHEN
about Jennet’s “I will have Master Shakespeare for my own” comment. After the evening meal, the two of us had sneaked off to the library for some privacy.

“I wonder if she wishes to wed him,” he said. “Maybe to escape her controlling father.”

“Wed him? He’s Catholic! Her father would never allow it … would he?”

Stephen gave a curt laugh. “Nay, you are right about that. But mayhap she is more willing to lose her virtue to him than I originally thought.”

“But you said a Puritan girl would never do that! That’s why you needed me.”

“Do not look so vexed. She may have hidden motives we do not know about.”

I sighed in frustration. “For whatever reason, she was warning me off.”

He looked thoughtful. “ ’Tis almost as if she were throwing down the gauntlet.”

“You mean challenging me? She doesn’t scare me. I’m the one Shakespeare was reading Ovid’s love poetry to a few days ago.” I knew I sounded smug, but I was pretty confident of Will’s interest in me.

“Instructing you in the art of love, was he? You did not mention it. And how did he get on?” Stephen’s voice dripped sarcasm, confusing me. Wasn’t this what he wanted me to be doing with Will?

“None of your business. Remember? You’re not supposed to ask. And why are you acting all mad about it?”

Impatiently, he waved off my question. “What were you doing in a schoolroom, with Jennet and a passel of brats present?” he asked, and began pacing around the room with his hands on his hips. “Nothing can be accomplished under those circumstances.”

“I had business with Will,” I said, glaring at him. “And if you must know, I went to the schoolroom to arrange a time to meet privately with Will. I also told him I’m very interested in his writing, which is the truth. He seemed thrilled.”

When Stephen shot me a skeptical glance, I said, near tears, “Why are you acting like this? What did I do wrong?”

He was at my side in an instant. “You did nothing wrong, Olivia. Pray forgive me,” he said. “I’m a brute.”

This made me laugh and brought me back to my senses. I wandered over to the grate, its flames dying. “Maybe if I had a better understanding of why I’m here, it would help,” I said, huddling in front of the settle to soak up whatever warmth remained. “The plays are so much a part of my life. Shakespeare’s revered in my century. He’s practically a god! I know he dedicated his life to writing and acting, so why do you even need me?”

“I daresay you will carp at me until I explain further.”

“Count on it.”

“Where should I start?” he whispered.

I thought he was talking to himself, but I answered anyway. “Tell me how you knew about Shakespeare.”

Stephen cursed under his breath and looked as if he might protest. Then he shrugged. “We may as well be warm while we talk.” After heaving another log onto the fire, he sank down next to me.

“I can see the future,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Brief flashes of it.”

A cynical grunt burst out of me. “Right.” I lifted a brow at him.

“Mayhap I should not have used those words. I have visions. They come upon me; I do not summon them, and would rather not be burdened with them, to confess the truth.”

“Then why don’t you just ignore them?”

“They haunt me until I take action.”

“So you’re a wizard or something?”

“I prefer the term you used before. ‘Time warden.’ ” He glanced at me quickly, and then his eyes darted away.

“Go on.”

“ ’Tis a power I inherited, one that has been in my family for centuries. One person in each generation has the visions. When he reaches maturity, the astrolabe is bestowed upon him.”

“How long since the job was passed to you?”

“I was seventeen. My uncle preceded me.”

“Alexander? No way!”

Grinning, he said, “Nay, an uncle on my father’s side taught me. When he knew his days were numbered.”

“Does your family know?”

“Only my father.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “This is difficult.… I never speak of it to anyone.”

“The astrolabe—that’s the instrument you had when we were on the school roof, isn’t it?” After he nodded, I went on. “What’s the point? Does it always involve time travel, and somehow preserving the future?”

“My family’s duty is to protect Britain’s destiny. Not to change it, but to preserve it.”

I was about to laugh until I caught his deadly serious expression. He wasn’t joking. “That’s, well, amazing. Too much for one man.” Tentatively, I ran my hand across his back in a comforting gesture.

“Aye,” he said, looking at me with an ironic grin. “The visions set things in motion, and usually I must travel to the future to discover the actual truth. When I return, I take action.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to understand. “So you had a vision about Shakespeare. Had you met him yet?”

“Nay, the visions came first. But then my father told me Alexander had employed a young lad named Shakespeare as schoolmaster here, and it all began to make sense.”

“What was in your visions, if you don’t mind my asking?” He probably did, but was in too deep now to refuse to tell me.

“Fragments of the plays passed through my head.… Will Shakespeare appeared again and again. Writing and acting. Then, imaginings of plays I knew were being performed in the distant future. Plays he composed, clear indications of his genius.”

“And that was why you came to my century, to figure out if the visions about Shakespeare were true. If he was really as great as he seemed.”

He nodded. “It was not until I journeyed to your time that I understood the scope of Shakespeare’s genius. Only then did I learn exactly what you and others had made of his work.”

When he paused for a breath, I said, “So how are you able to time travel?”

“The astrolabe holds the magic that makes passage through time possible. And saying the right words.”

“You mean the ‘From this age’ thing you said right before we—”

“Precisely.”

I struggled to get my head around everything he’d told me and realized some parts still didn’t make sense.

“But if you hadn’t even met Will yet, how did you know he was in danger?”

“I learned that from the visions, although I did not discover the particulars until we came to Hoghton Tower. Some of the visions provide only a feeling, in this case one of dread. As in a dream, when you know something awful is about to occur, but you are powerless to stop it.”

“Yet you told me on my first day there was a Jesuit here who had his eye on Shakespeare.”

“I did not yet know who it was, nor did I perceive the true extent of the threat. ’Twas only after the burning I fully understood.”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Did you see me in your visions?”

“I did.”

I squirmed around so I was facing him directly. “So then you found me in the future and decided I was the one?”

He stared at me for a long time before answering; so long I had to look away from the intense scrutiny. But not before I noticed the look in his eyes. Longing, regret, and need, all mixed up together, and aimed directly at me.

“None other would do. You were the right age and sex, and because of your acting skills, you could pass yourself off as a young lady of this time. Given your parentage, and your own interest in Shakespeare and acting, it had to be you.”

“Oh.” A lame response, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Still with that intensity in his eyes, he went on. “Your purpose here is real. If we are unsuccessful in carrying out our mission, Shakespeare’s work may be lost for all time. Indeed, there may never
be
any plays, poems, or sonnets, because he will not have composed them.”

“Wow,” I said softly and mostly to myself.

“Are you satisfied, then?”

I wasn’t exactly clear on all he’d told me, but I’d absorbed about as much as I could for now. “I have more questions, but I’ll save the rest for later. For now, one last thing. Why seduction? Was
that
in the visions?”

“That was of my own devising.”

My jaw dropped and I stared, incredulous. “You thought that part up on your own? Oh, my God! You’re no different from a modern guy with too much testosterone.”

He raised his brows. “Pray, what does that mean?” In the darkened room, Stephen’s eyes were almost black.

“You think sex is the answer to everything!”

“Nay, I do not,” he protested. “I’ve spoken of this before—we have an urgent problem. ’Tis the quickest way to avert disaster.” That said, he got to his feet and walked over to the windows, his back to me.

Maybe I was being too hard on him. If everything he’d told me was true, he
was
grappling with a major problem and had no choice but to find an immediate solution. I followed him over to the windows and touched him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Stephen.”

Without looking at me he said, “And I apologize for my excess of, what was it?
Testosterone?
”

I groaned inwardly at his sarcasm. There would be no more communication between us tonight. We’d reached our limit of trying to understand each other. Passed it, in fact. “Good night then, Stephen.”

He didn’t respond, so I crept quietly out the door. When I reached my passageway, I glanced out the tall windows facing the courtyard. Night was falling, but I could make out two figures walking briskly toward the front of the manor. I recognized Shakespeare and Thomas Cook. Wasting no time, I detoured into my room for my cloak. Copernicus dozed by the fire, chin on paws, and didn’t rouse himself to greet me. Just as well, since I didn’t have time to play with him. I flew down the staircase in pursuit of the two men.

I made my way through the inner and outer courtyards, walking by the stables and passing beneath the great keep. No sign of Will and Thomas, but they couldn’t be too far ahead of me. It was deep twilight, the first stars brilliantly awakening and a waning crescent moon curving in the sky. A profound peace and stillness gripped the night air. Nothing but some plaintive birdcalls broke the silence.

After a few minutes, when I was approaching the rose garden, the sound of voices drifted toward me. Stepping back, I huddled against a large shrub, wishing I could be an ordinary girl again. Not someone who skulked around listening in on other people’s conversations.

“What drives you to this life?” Will asked. “To be pent up here like a prisoner?”

“I’m no prisoner, Will. My work is here for the present. I am free to come and go, when and as I must.”

“Do you not miss the more worldly life? Do you never long for a wife and children?”

“I gave up those things for God.”

“I do not know if I have such strength as you, to be so devout.”

“Mayhap you would never be a missionary. But think of the pleasures of learning! Latin, Greek, history, logic, science. Studying the church fathers. Writing verse.”

I covered my mouth before a laugh could burst out. Will would learn
that
well enough to please even Thomas.

Will said nothing.

“Your father has already signed his spiritual testament,” Thomas continued.

“Aye. He sent me north with the priest who witnessed it.”

“You are gifted, Will. You would adapt easily to the priestly life.”

“I would love to study the classics. Such as I have already learned is but a trifle compared to your learning.” Will sounded excited, eager. My mind spun out a fantasy of what might have happened if he had gone to university and become a brilliant scholar. Perhaps he would have been content with a scholarly life, but I didn’t think so. The plays shone with too much vitality and spirit.

“ ’Tis getting late,” Thomas said. “Promise me you will think on all we’ve discussed.”

I didn’t wait around for Will’s answer, because I had to get away before they discovered me cowering in the bushes. But it sounded like Thomas was beginning to gain some ground.

A
FEW DAYS CRAWLED PAST
. It rained, not a gentle rain, but thick sheets streaming from the sky. I stayed indoors, trapped by the deluge, and saw Stephen mainly at meals. Things had stayed awkward between us, and I hated that.

One morning after I’d eaten breakfast and dressed, I walked through the passage to his chamber, clutching the volume of Ovid. At first, I couldn’t see him. It was another dreary day, a veil of mist and clouds shrouding the landscape, and not much light found its way into our rooms. He must have already gone out, I thought, although I couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing in this weather.

But after a minute of staring into the room, I sensed a dark shape hovering near the back wall. An uneasy feeling rippled through me. If it was Stephen, why hadn’t he called out to me, invited me in? And then I heard a piercing moan, so startling I lost my grip on the book and it slammed to the floor. The dark figure made a sudden movement into the light. It
was
Stephen.

He continued to moan, softer now, but still an eerie and primitive sound. I approached him slowly, not wanting to frighten him. He was in a trancelike state, and I knew beyond a doubt he must be in the throes of a vision. Although he was looking right at me, he didn’t speak or acknowledge my presence. Whatever was playing out in his head, I didn’t want to mess with it. So I continued to stand silently, keeping watch. If he got so loud someone else might hear, or seemed to be in pain, I’d intervene. Unless that happened, it was probably best to leave him alone until it was over.