The rest of the Queen’s Men now came back down the stairs so that they could finish playing their senatorial roles by greeting the queen of Egypt as she arrived.
“Well, at least they have not smashed into one another this time,” Fleming said as the boats drew near.
“Pity,” Speed replied. “ ‘Twas much more fun to watch, what with people shouting and falling overboard and such.”
One of the servants overheard and gave him an irate look, which brought the irrepressible Speed an elbow in the ribs from Burbage.
As the barge came closer, they could see the details of the throne, which had been constructed especially for the occasion. It was made of wood, carved and painted to resemble gold and set with bits of colored glass to reflect the sunlight and make it look as if it were covered in jewels. The backrest was positively huge and resembled the prow of a ship. It was carved into the shape of a snake’s head, meant to mimic the imperial Egyptian headdress that Catherine Middleton wore.
As the barge drew up to the river gate and the smaller boats held back, waiting for the bride and her party to disembark before they came up to discharge their passengers, all eyes were on the bride as she sat impressively upon her throne. She was dressed in a glittering white robe festooned with jewels and heavily embroidered with gold and silver. Her hair was covered by the imperial headdress, which was striped in black and white and held in place by a circlet of hammered gold, with a snake’s head rising from it just over the forehead.
“I do not believe the queen herself ever made a grander entrance,” Shakespeare said, as he came up to stand beside Smythe. “And I do not mean Cleopatra.”
Indeed, Smythe thought, it was truly one of the grandest spectacles that he had ever seen and every bit worthy of a pageant put on for the queen. That was, of course, precisely what Godfrey Middleton had intended. It was so impressive that Smythe wondered whether the queen, when she heard accounts of it, might even feel resentful that she had missed the celebration. He wondered if perhaps Godfrey Middleton had not overplayed his hand by putting on such an elaborate celebration when the queen was out of town and could not possibly attend. On the other hand, perhaps not. Even if she felt piqued that she had missed it, Her Royal Majesty’s appetite would certainly be whetted to see what sort of entertainment Middleton could stage for her if she gave him the opportunity. And after hearing about this, how could she not?
Part of the wedding party had disembarked and the high priests were now proceeding in line up the stone steps, carrying wooden staves with the heads of Egyptian gods upon them while two of the bridal maidens followed in their wake, strewing flowers as they went. The enthusiastic audience at the top of the steps applauded as they eagerly awaited the bride. But Queen Cleopatra had not moved. Catherine Middleton still remained seated on her throne.
“ ‘Tis what one might call royally milking an entrance,” Kemp said with a smirk as they all waited for her to come down off her throne.
“Perhaps she is waiting for someone to help her down,” said Burbage, with a slight frown. “That costume looks to be a bit cumbersome. Do you suppose that we were meant to go on board and welcome her, escort her? I cannot recall. Our directions did not seem very clear upon that point. I would hate to think that we have missed our cue!”
“She may only be experiencing the natural hesitation of a blushing bride,” said Fleming, with a smile. “You know, having herself a bout of stage fright, as it were.”
“When it comes to being married, fright is more often the natural condition of the groom,” said Shakespeare. “Perhaps she is unwell. Do you think we should go and see if-”
At that moment, someone screamed. It was one of the bridesmaids still aboard the barge, and in moments, her scream was taken up by others. This, clearly, was not part of the script.
Except for a couple of servants, the players standing on the steps by the river gate were the closest to the barge. Smythe led the way as he ran down the remaining couple of steps and jumped onto the barge, where chaos and confusion now reigned. With Shakespeare and several of the others right behind him, he shouldered his way past the rowers, who had stood up from their benches and were now milling about in confusion. Several of the women were screaming hysterically up on the platform which formed the upper deck and one of the unfortunate girls either fell or else was accidentally knocked overboard into the river.
She started screaming that she could not swim and within moments, the weight of her soaked garments pulled her under. A couple of the rivermen jumped in to save her and fortunately managed to grab hold of her and pull her in towards shore, thus saving her life, but it seemed the bride was not so lucky. When Smythe reached her, one of the hysterical bridesmaids was sobbing and crying out, “She is dead! She is dead! Oh, God have mercy, she is dead!”
Indeed, Smythe found that Catherine Middleton felt cold to the touch, and did not seem to be breathing. Her eyes were closed and she looked quite peaceful, as if she had simply drifted off to sleep.
“Oh, heaven!” Burbage said, as Smythe bent over her. “Dead! Can it be true?”
Smythe put his ear to Catherine’s chest. “I cannot hear her heart,” he said.
“Oh, woeful day!” said Burbage.
“Injurious world!” said Fleming. “Poor girl! To die so young, and on her wedding day! Could anything ever be more tragic?”
“Perhaps it could,” Shakespeare said.
They looked towards him. “What do you mean?” said Fleming. “What have you there?”
“A drinking flask,” said Shakespeare, as he sniffed it contents.
“Lord, hand it here,” said Kemp. “Methinks now we could all do with a drink!”
“I would be loath to have any of you drink from this,” said Shakespeare. “This potation might be of a potency not to your liking.”
“What is it, Will?” Smythe asked.
“ ‘Tis known as brand,” said Shakespeare. “Burnt wine, to some. A spiritous distillation from grape wine. Not a very common beverage, leastwise for the likes of us common folk. Our late, lamented Cleopatra had this flask lying right here at her feet.”
“To keep her warm against the river chill, no doubt,” said Burbage. “But what of it?”
“It does not smell right to me,” said Shakespeare. “And mine, gentlemen, is a most educated nose. There has been something added to this flask that did not come from the vine.”
“God shield us!” Burbage said. “Do you mean she has been poisoned?”
“Poisoned!” Kemp exclaimed.
The cry was taken up at once by everyone around them.
“I cannot say for certain,” Shakespeare said, “but there is something rotten in Egypt. History repeats itself, for unless I miss my guess, Cleopatra has once more fallen to a deadly venom.”
6
THE GUESTS WATCHING FROM THE plaza at the top of the steps knew something had gone wrong, but it was a while before word of what had happened reached them. They saw the commotion below them, where the wedding barge had pulled up to the river gate, and they heard the screaming and saw one of the bridesmaids fall into the river, which resulted in a burst of laughter breaking out among them, but within moments, they knew that something much more serious than a minor mishap had occurred.
When they saw the players rush onto the barge, accompanied by several of the servants, their merriment subsided into silence and the hush continued, stretching out uneasily as they saw the players gather around the bride. A few among the gathered guests began to whisper, wondering what had gone wrong, and then they heard the shouting. At first, they could not make out what was being shouted, and the whisperings among them grew into an anxious undertone that made the shouting down on the barge even more difficult to understand. Then, as people started running back up the steps, calling out what had happened, they finally learned the news of the bride’s death.