Concept date: 17th February, 2017
First published: 2nd May, 2019Status: COMPLETED.
Version: STANDARD.
Age recommendation: 12+
Average reading Time: Approximately 30 Minutes.
Revisions: 2. [Last Edit: September 2019]
Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1610AD-1018AH Mission: 313199 - 9 - 1564
"WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S LOST PLAY - THE LADY OF CAPPANNI."
1. THE ROAD TO OXFORD, LATE SUMMER 1610.
The carriage shuddered and trembled as it struggled through the mud that claimed to be the main road to Oxford. The late summer rain didn’t help its progress and the old man inside repeatedly peered through the thick curtain that covered the open window; but offered little protection against the persistent drizzle or coldness of the oncoming night.
Old Harry, the coachman; shouted down that they were about four leagues from ‘The Fallen Oak’ tavern and coach house – their planned stop for the night and just another twenty leagues from the outskirts of Oxford city.
The old man pressed back in his seat and gripped the well worn leather bag to his chest and sighed loudly; “When will the damn King spend some bloody money on these fucking roads!” The young man opposite chuckled and pulled a dark bottle from his travelling bag and took several sips. “Have some brandy Uncle William and consider that a hot meal, soft beds and beer, await us when we arrive at the Fallen Oak.”
The old man gripped the bottle and with a slightly trembling hand, took a shallow draught of brandy and then passed it back to his young companion; “Thank you Edward.” He muttered and closed his eyes, but could not rest with any comfort – he must reach Oxford and hand the bag over – even then, the events of the past few weeks would haunt his mind until they lowered his cold dead body into its grave. But would he be able to rest in peace, knowing what had passed between him and the spectral that plagued him from the hereafter?
Especially the young woman, by God’s grace; what a woman!
And what a muse! Had he encountered her when he was a young man – like Edward is now – what difference to his life she would have made! The old man groaned openly and pushed a hand across his face; the tears were not from self pity, but from the knowledge of what could have been and never will be.
He glanced at the dozing Edward and was grateful that the boy had not seen the tears. He looked down at the bag and ran a hand across the soft leather, he believed the old satchel contained his ‘Master work’ and the story of what a man’s life could have been; had the fates been kinder.
William stared at the sleeping boy and smiled; Edward was the son of an old muse of his – Elizabeth had captivated the young William and the pair had become lovers; Edward was the fruit of that passion – but never knew that his ‘Uncle’ was de-facto; his father.
Elizabeth had died a few days after the boy’s birth with child-bed fever and William had taken charge of the infant, placing him with close friends who were childless and then took upon himself; the role of protective ‘Uncle’.
Now grown and schooling ended, the young Edward was enjoying the company of his Uncle and his close circle of friends, artists and actors. Edward had even tried his hand at being a wordsmith and actor – performing twice as a lady of the court, in one of William’s friends small plays, since real women were not allowed upon the stage by law; all their parts were performed by young men and boys.
“You did well boy and your writing could easily put food upon the table and a roof over your head.” William muttered to himself with a little pride, if he was really honest. William could not leave the boy much upon his death, but had arranged with his friend Ben Johnson, to ensure that Edward received money and goods he had placed aside. His wife Anne could have their old bed which she chilled over so many years and his daughters could have a proper dowry – he owed them that at least.
The thoughts of his own death now filled his troubled mind and soul – the spirits had been kind enough not to reveal the date of his passing, but William had inkling that it was close. He groaned quietly and clutched the leather satchel
again to his chest, then sat upright as old Harry called out the approaching Tavern, which also woke Edward from his temporary sleep.
“We’ll sup well and sleep even better in proper beds.” Edward yawned and stretched, pulling the curtain back to view the approaching lights of the tavern. William gripped the bag and wondered if he would be able to rest well this night. He also wondered, if he should reveal the visit of the strangers who apparently hailed from the ‘hereafter’, to young Edward.
Again, his thoughts turned to the young woman; beautiful, intelligent and knowledgeable – she was the Queen of Muses and had captured his old heart with just a smile. She had broken the constipation of his writers block in an instant and William had picked up the discarded quill’s and began to write again – mostly about her and for her.
The carriage slowed and stopped, with Edward pushing open the door and jumping into the mud that lay outside the tavern known as the ‘Fallen Oak’.
The Inn-keeper; Silas Redpenny was waiting with lamp in hand to greet his guests and escort them inside. A thin man with dirty hands and face grappled with the baggage handed down by old Harry and then staggered through the doorway, cursing quietly to himself and with some difficulty, he climbed the stairs to their allocated rooms and deposited the three cases inside. He grunted and cursed with disappointment, and a little frustration, that all three were securely padlocked. No little bonus for him tonight and he returned to the kitchens; to scavenge some meat and ale.
Silas ushered William and Edward into the bar and found them an empty rough, wooden table by the large fireplace, where Edward ordered beer, brandy and meats pies. They both sat staring into the fire that danced and flickered in the grate for a few minutes, before a young girl brought them their order.
Edward gave the girl two half-pennies for her trouble and she grinned broadly, curtsying low, so that the young man captured a good few of her large heaving breasts, barely restrained by a loose corset. “Anything else that I can get you Sir?” she whispered and slightly disappointed, wandered off when William interrupted the pair and said simply; ‘No.”
It must be noted that she wasn’t as disappointed as Edward, who gripped his tankard and wondered if he could get a message to her later. Edward watched as the young tart laughed and joked with two soldiers near the door, lifting her dress and petticoats, so that the men received a glance of what was on offer. He rubbed at his crotch and fantasised about those tits in his hands and mouth. The pleasant daydream was broken by his Uncle, who tapped the table with his knife, whilst slicing open his pie.
“I must speak to you on matters that are so important, your very future depends upon you understanding and acting upon what I say.” William gripped his ‘nephew’ by the arm, adding; “I was visited by the dead from the hereafter and the tale they imparted will turn your bowels to water.” He now had Edwards’s undivided attention.
William glanced about the quite room [for a tavern] and pulled Edward close and the story began in a whisper.
2. TIME STANDS STILL AT THE GLOBE THEATRE.
William sat upon a large rough chest, which contained various props, and re-read the letter from his Patron; the Earl of Oxford. He wiped his face several times, as the weather this summer evening was unfashionably warm, then looked towards the stage and sighed. “Get the bloody positions correct you morons!” He yelled and waved the parchment about, adding; “Tom! Get those spare men [extras] together; they are supposed to be an English army awaiting battle, not fisher wives gossiping whist gutting bloody herring!”
The cast and crew milled about the small wooden stage in haphazard order, even two small dogs appeared and ran about the place; it was chaos.
William carefully pushed the letter into his shirt pocket and ran his fingers through dark and greying hair; he strode over to stage and took command, shouting for several people to ‘fuck off’ from the stage and yelling for the actors to assemble in costume with their correct props.
‘King Henry V’ received William’s total wrath, when he appeared on stage – resplendent in full armour – but carrying a wooden club instead of his iconic sword. “So King Henry gave his famous ‘band of brothers’ address, whilst waving a fucking old wooden club about?” William yelled at the poor man who shuffled from the stage to seek the whereabouts of his elusive sword.
William stood hand on chin, as the stage at last, began to resemble something like performance order. That’s when he noticed that everyone was still – completely motionless. There was no sound, no dogs barking, no noise from the streets; nothing. He waited a few minutes, breathing heavily and with his heart racing, then he heard footsteps behind him and much relieved, turned about.
Four people stood quietly before him. William almost gasped; the young woman was simply stunning and he actually stepped back in awe of her. Then his eyes were drawn to the huge black man standing tall with arms folded. A bloody Moor! William crossed himself – something he had not done in many a year – The young man was most strangely dressed in dark clothes of apparent good quality and he was pushing a strange hand held mirror into the folds of his long dark coat. The boy standing at the rear had no real distinguishing attributes that William noticed – except he had a funny grin upon his face.
William bowed low and stared yet again at the woman; she had stolen his heart – even at his age! He desperately required quill and parchment, as a sonnet started to form in his head. But he remained standing quietly before the strange group until the young man removed his tall black hat and smiled; “Mister William Shakespeare?” and held out a hand.
William staggered back a little and sat upon the chest again, hands over his face for as few minutes. Finally he looked up and the four still stood before him – it was no hallucination bought on by drink or unknown fever or the dark curses of malevolent witches. They were real; he carefully looked about and saw all the actors and stage men were still fixed and unmoving.
Jericho repeated his question and William managed to whisper; “Yes”.
The young man asked, quite pleasantly, if they could talk somewhere private and more comfortable. With legs shaking a little, William escorted the four strangers to his rooms above the ‘Swan and Dog’. The walk to his rooms frightened him even more; everyone was still and there was no noise whatsoever or any movement, not even a gentle breeze and strangely enough, he could no longer feel the warmth of the day, despite the sun being at its zenith. He believed he was in the company of Angels, or probably worse, minions of the devil!
3. THE REAL SHAKESPEARE.
The rooms above the oddly named tavern were small, but apparently comfortable and suited William’s needs very well. Alex noticed parchment everywhere; it lay across tables, chairs and even the bed, she particularly noticed the crumpled up pieces strewn across the rough wooden floor and smiled. “I think the world’s most famous playwright has a writer’s blockage.” She said softly to Wilson, who nodded his agreement; “But with that look upon his face, his bowels won’t have that problem!”
They laughed quietly and William slumped upon his unmade bed and pushed several manuscripts from it; they cascaded upon the floor like a parchment waterfall. He snatched a dark bottle from the small table nearby and took a long gulp of Genever [Dutch Gin] and wiped his mouth – he felt much better.
That’s when he could hear street noises again and peered, with some relief, through the small window by the bed and could see the street thronged with moving people and barking dogs. Jericho drew his attention by pulling a dark, old manuscript from his coat and placing it upon the small table, next to the bottle.
“We really need to know if this script was written by you Mr. Shakespeare.” Jericho eased himself down up the chair, after carefully removing several pieces of unfinished parchment from it.
William slowly lifted the crumpled papers and cast his eyes over it, carefully turning a couple pages each time. He had a very puzzled expression upon his face. “Who is the Lady of Cappanni?” He finally asked and started to read with apparent real interest.
Jericho repeated his question and William took another swig from the bottle and shook his head; “No my friend, whilst it does appear to be by my hand – I have not written such a play.” He looked quite bewildered and studied the document closely; “I could swear that is the work of my hand, but it cannot be so!” He turned to Alex and smiled; “Sweet lady, you could rival Venus herself and the Gods would fall at your feet, vexed by thy face and those eyes that whisper sweetly of love and passion. Rivals for the sun in warmth and light – such emeralds could illuminate the darkness of any poor man’s heart and draw forth such love and fixed worship.”
He shook his head and said softly; “I must know your name or die poorer for its lack.” He reached across and grabbed paper and quill, adding; “I beg you, privilege me with your name and I will immortalise it in word and deed.”
Jericho chuckled at the expression upon Alex’s face and spoke directly to William; “That is the Lady of Cappanni.”
William gasped and rose from the bed, bowing quite low he said simply; “My Muse, my Muse!” Wilson turned to Alex, grinning broadly and also chuckled; “Alex, you are now famous. I’m pretty sure that not too many women became Shakespeare’s Muse in the space of a few minutes.” But Owen whispered in his ear; “Is that the same as becoming a Mistress?”
Everyone laughed, including Alex who thanked William for his compliment, but said she had to politely decline his generous offer. He slumped back upon the bed muttering; “All is lost; nothing now but the bitter taste of dark days and cold nights await my soul.” He sat head in hands after throwing both pen and parchment upon the floor. “I will never scratch another word or single letter upon paper again.”
The four stood in silence as the old man sobbed gently upon his ramshackle bed, shaking his head and finally dropped his hands, he looked up at a very disconcerted Alex and said simply; “Sweet lady, you have stilled my heart.”
Jericho attempted to explain who they were and why they visited him, but William rambled on about Alex’s refusal to become his ‘Muse’ and that he would never write again – he had finished the bottle of Genever and taken to beer. His language became quite foul and Jericho decided to call it a day. The little group of temporal detectives bade him farewell and simply vanished, which made him
faint upon the floor.
“So, that went well.” Jericho said with some sarcasm in his voice, but smiled at Alex, who had finished blushing at William’s words of love and passion. “I bet history doesn’t know that the great William Shakespeare was a dirty, foul mouthed, drunken old man, who threw tantrums if he didn’t get his way.”
Wilson laughed at that and agreed with Jericho’s assessment of the world’s greatest playwright. But Owen sighed loudly and looked quite sad; "A flawed genus." Wilson grinned, muttering; "From the mouth of babes pours wisdom." He slapped Owen on the back adding; "Right on baby brother!"
The four headed towards the lighthouse, anticipating dinner and the conversation recapping the day’s events. Alex walked with her arm through Owen's and just as they reached grand door of the lighthouse, she stopped and turned to Jericho; "Well, who did write it?"
Jericho shrugged his shoulders; "Well, unless Mr. Shakespeare has added lying to his repertoire of warm, human traits, we'll have to make a return journey and track them down - now lets have dinner!"
The 18th Earl of Oxford sat behind his cluttered desk and pushed both hands through his hair, then placed them flat upon it. "So, these four creatures could halt time itself and yet still move with loose freedom - as you could yourself?"
Shakespeare nodded, clutching his wine goblet close to his heaving chest; "Yes Sir. The woman would have made Venus herself look like a tavern harlot." The old man smiled at the thought of Alex; the Lady of Cappanni and sipped some wine.
The young Earl chuckled and shook his head; this wretch was the one of the great playwrights and his work was even favoured by the late Queen herself - and his own father, Edward had many dealing with the man - yet what a tale he can impart and speak as if all was true and real.
The Earl slumped back in his chair and pushed some papers about and smiled slightly; "As favour to your friendship with my father and my sweet memory of him, you ask for what?"
William grinned nervously and smiled; "Some little advance, enough till I can finish this." The old man shuffled about in the leather bag at his feet and produced a wad of written papers and placed them carefully into the Earls outstretched hand. The fact that William's hand shook a little didn't go unnoticed by the young Lord.
He slowly read the first page that offered itself and straightened himself upon the chair. Saying nothing and not looking up at William, he quietly turned the well inked parchment, a sheet at a time. He lifted his goblet and sipped the fine French wine that waited there - he placed the glass upon the desk and drew a deep breath.
"The Lady of Cappanni performs duty for God by seeking out troubled souls and those who worship the Devil; in collusion with a big negro and a boy who plays the jester. The tall, dark young man has been ordained by the almighty himself and is Captain of such an incredulous company - he takes them forth, through all previous and future happenings - searching for others, by design or accident, that hath fallen into a place that is not theirs by birth. Do I have that true?"
William nodded his head vigorously; "I played the drunken fool and they made little disguise as to their true calling - how did they know, I would write such a piece; when I had not even placed quill upon parchment, before that day, about them?" He swallowed down his wine and looked for more, adding; "How would I have known about such a lady unless they imparted the tale to me, themselves, the papers not discovered for some four hundred years future hence?
The Earl agreed that was a tantalising mystery; if the four were not who they say; then how did they know the hereafter?" The Earl poured himself and William a refill; then sat back in his chair - thinking deeply. Some minutes passed in quiet thought and the Earl rubbed his chin - he did not smile and leaned across the desk and stared at William; the old man gulped and could feel sweat beneath his arms and crotch.
"I will agree to your request upon one condition; that I can see the woman of whom you speak and the young Captain of such a miraculous gang; are we in accord?" The Earl now smiled and folded his arms.
William appeared quite flustered and spluttered the words out; "But how can I call such creatures from the hereafter at will!" The Earl held up both hands; "They came upon you, when this script was found at some future date, merely add a reference to myself, at some relevant place, and they will come to both of us." Now the young Lord did grin broadly; the trap was laid - or so they thought.
William agreed to that provision and left the Earl's office; some Ten Pounds in silver richer [A very sizeable sum for that time] and happy at the prospect of meeting the Lady of Cappanni again.
He joined his nephew; Edward, by the grand staircase and the pair were shown out by the Earls Steward; Henry. They walked in forced silence until they reached their carriage. Inside and underway to the tavern, William pulled Edward close and revealed how he had talked the young Lord into agreeing with his incredible and cunning plan, to draw back the strange foursome and in particular; the Lady Alex.
Edward had to admit that his Uncle's plan was indeed clever; adding some simple references would draw them to the Earl. He praised his Uncle and they shared a small bottle of brandy between themselves.
Thus, William added several lines concerning the Earl and his discovery of the mirror that could show future times - purchased at great expense from Arab travellers who claimed it had been looted from Jerusalem by crusaders - Knight Templars to be exact - it was actually; quite a worthy work of fiction and would cause more discussion and investigation in future times. He had accidentally invented 'Science-fiction' - many years before anyone else!
William and Edward enjoyed themselves that night at the tavern; they ate well, drank much wine and brandy, singing ribald songs with other customers. Young Edward finally managed to lay the tavern trollop for tuppence, but found he scratched his crotch a great deal in the coming days. Finally, he had to shave his pubic hair to rid himself of the persistent little creatures, that had taken up residence there.
The pair waited in the tavern and the Earl waited in his Manor House for the re-appearance of the Temporal Detectives - they wouldn't have to wait long.
Jericho accepted his 'ticking off' in silence - apart from a few nods of his head; where appropriate. Arch-Angel Michael made his position and orders quite clear and concise; return the human time-line to its original course and ensure the 'damn' play is never written. His final words would not make Alex happy; she was to be removed from the mission - for the time being - and take no further part in any dealings with the great William Shakespeare or the interfering Earl of Oxford.
Angel Margret allowed herself a little smile as she walked with Jericho back to her office. The Angel had supported her Temporal Inspector - as she normally did - and that didn't go un-noticed or surprise anyone, in the Temporal Detectives Department. They all knew they could rely on their 'Boss' for backup.
At dinner that night, Jericho explained the amended mission to his team and Alex did not hide her disappointment and frustration at being 'stood down' in the middle of a mission, through no fault of her own!
"The main fault was mine, I should have returned Shakespeare back to the theatre where we made first contact, so that the time we spent with him didn't exist." Jericho shrugged his shoulders and continued; "But the old bugger fooled us by pretending to pass out through drink. He then contacted this Earl of Oxford and they concocted up a plan to get us - particularly Alex - to return."
"So now we have to unravel this mess because the human time-line is undergoing change; unwanted changes." Wilson leaned back in his chair and then smiled; "Still Alex look on the bright side; you can catch up on your knitting!"
Everyone chuckled - including Alex.
"So we're not under strength for this, I've borrowed another detective from Stella Longstreet [the Inspector of Team 35] and Alex will replace them for the duration of this mission. They should arrive any minute now." Jericho gestured to the empty dinner place and sipped his wine, glancing at the clock.
The clock said '7.35pm' - but then it always did.
Mr. Harris appeared and announced the arrival of Temporal Detective Constable James 'Jumbo' Jolly for dinner and briefing. Everyone knew the feisty little Scotsman and Wilson muttered quite loudly; "Lock up the women and whisky!"
'Jumbo' dropped into the seat and grinned, picked up the wine glass and swallowed it down; "Greetings comrades, I've longed tae try Mrs. Harris's cookin'."
He grabbed up his knife and fork and started into the spaghetti bolognaise with some gusto. He really wasn't one for polite conversation, when there was good food to eat or whisky to drink.
He only stopped eating once; to smile at Alex and wave his knife about. "Sweit heaven Alex, yer still a crackin' piece ay skirt - th' best I've ever seen an' nae ferlie 'at auld twat Shakespeaur wrote a bleedin' play abit ye!" He then set about his dinner to the finish, the eating punctuated with glasses of whisky. To everyone's amazement and a little amusement, he licked his plate and belched, patting his stomach.
"Teel 'at lassie ay yoors, 'at she can feckin' cuik. 'at was stoatin - onie mair?" He asked the disconcerted Mr. Harris who refilled his whisky glass - yet again. "Lae th' bottle cheil." He winked and tapped the big man's arm, with a wide grin.
"He wasn't around when polite society was invented." Wilson explained to Mr. Harris, who sighed loudly and placed the bottle down. That made the little Scot smile broadly and ask where his pudding was or at least, that's what Mr. Harris understood he said.
James 'Jumbo' Jolly had been killed at the battle of Culloden Moor in 1746. Apparently his broad sword had snapped and wearing only his kilt and boots, continued to attack the English soldiers with the only weapon he could find to hand - a large spoon. It proved useless against musket fire and Jumbo found himself in the 'hereafter'. He accepted Angel Francis's [the duty death angel at the time] offer and became a Collector, eventually joining the Temporal Detectives Department - he had never returned to the human life-cycle since his
demise in 1746.
"Ah acnt be arsed wi' aw 'at dyin' jobby." He would explain, if asked why he had never returned to human existence and the powerful little man still dressed as a Highland Warrior - complete with sword, dagger, kilt, sporran and totally unrecognisable speech [well, to anyone who couldn't speak Scottish].
Lucky enough, and with some forethought, Owen had obtained a small copy of the translation book; 'Scottish to English - for beginners and Sassenach's'. So he could almost understand the little man.
The dinner party proved quite interesting for all and Jumbo cornered Alex by the fireplace and told her all about the Highlands in the 1700's. He spoke for some time, adding songs to liven up the conversation and on a couple of occasions, lifted his kilt to show his pockmarked white arse - which was probably, part of his interesting tales.
Young Ruth admitted to feeling a little giddy upon seeing Jumbo's bare-arse; "You don't need to see THAT when your clearing away the dinner table!" She muttered and returned to the safety of the kitchen - at least there was no naked backsides on show - Mrs. Harris would never allow such a thing in a food preparation area!
Wilson managed to pull Alex away and leave Owen to entertain the little Scotsman; "What was he on about Alex?" He asked, really puzzled.
Alex shrugged her shoulders and sipped her brandy; "I really don't know - I didn't understand a bloody word!" She smiled and eased into her armchair by the fire; "Not a bloody word since he arrived." She quietly added.
Edward Coalwhole [Shakespeare's 'nephew'] survived his 'Uncle' by only two years and died of Typhoid fever in 1621 He had married a Welsh girl called Gwen and she inherited all that Shakespeare had left his beloved 'nephew'. She opened a high class brothel in 1624 and became a wealthy woman in her own right. Edward's soul was collected and processed.
Silas Redpenny; the Innkeeper, became a friend of William and Edward. He loved having the writers and actors that attended his tavern in their company. He married three times and had several children. His 'coaching Inn' still stands to this day as a de-luxe country hotel. The connections with the great William Shakespeare are unknown to the the current owners [and many of the previous owners]. Silas died in 1624 from the effects of untreated syphilis. His soul was collected and processed.
Henry De Vere - 18th Earl of Oxford - died in 1625 whilst at war in Holland. His soul was collected and processed.
Harry Legg, William's coachman, died in 1612. He was found sitting at the reins of his coach outside 'The Crown' Tavern. He had been dead for some time and people were a little frightened and amazed that he had completed his trip whilst stone dead! No-one realised that his faithful pair of horses knew the route better than their master and simply carried on after his demise. His soul was collected and processed.
Senor Felipe Humberto returned to his native land of Spain and became the fencing master to a powerful Spanish family in Madrid, Unfortunately, whilst instructing the young son of the family, the boy [aged nine] ran him through with his little sword - with fatal consequences. Felipe died in 1631 and his soul was collected and processed.
SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY William Shakespeare, as himself.
William Shakespeare died on his 52nd birthday in 1619 [so legend has it] after a night of heavy drinking with two other writers, Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton. His soul was collected and processed. He remains an enigmatic figure despite his huge fame.
Go to the NEXT EPISODE in the series. TO VIEW THE NEXT EPISODE: CLICK HERE!
A FULL VERSION [if available] of this episode is available on the 'CHRONICLES OF INSPECTOR TIBBS' website, which carries only the published Seasonal episodes and Specials. It MAY differ from this original in some aspects. TO VIEW THIS ALTERNATIVE VERSION: CLICK HERE!
There is also a ADULT VERSION [if available] of this episode available on the "ALEXANDRA" website, which is AGE RATED at 18+ and written for an MATURE audience. It contains graphic and strong sexual references. It WILL differ from the original. TO VIEW THIS ALTERNATIVE VERSION: CLICK HERE!
Go to the 'Information Page' [if available] for this particular episode. It contains the background to the episode, written by the author. Click on the icon; this will be take you to an external site. TO VIEW THIS INFORMATION PAGE: CLICK HERE!
Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1610AD-1018AH Mission: 313199 - 9 - 1564
 |
| "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S LOST PLAY - THE LADY OF CAPPANNI." |
MISSION SUMMARY: "There is great excitement in the world of literature; a lost play, apparently by William Shakespeare, has been discovered by researchers at Rutland University Library. 'The Lady of Cappanni' appears to be about Temporal Detective Alex Cappanni and the role she performs for God! - Mr. Tibbs and the team are on the way to seek the real truth about the play and why it was written."
NOTES: This episode contains language appropriate for the times.
"This is a work of fiction about a historical character. Any other resemblances to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental." The Author.
 |
| 30 Min. |
 |
| Book Series 3. |
"WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S LOST PLAY - THE LADY OF CAPPANNI."
The carriage shuddered and trembled as it struggled through the mud that claimed to be the main road to Oxford. The late summer rain didn’t help its progress and the old man inside repeatedly peered through the thick curtain that covered the open window; but offered little protection against the persistent drizzle or coldness of the oncoming night.
Old Harry, the coachman; shouted down that they were about four leagues from ‘The Fallen Oak’ tavern and coach house – their planned stop for the night and just another twenty leagues from the outskirts of Oxford city.
The old man pressed back in his seat and gripped the well worn leather bag to his chest and sighed loudly; “When will the damn King spend some bloody money on these fucking roads!” The young man opposite chuckled and pulled a dark bottle from his travelling bag and took several sips. “Have some brandy Uncle William and consider that a hot meal, soft beds and beer, await us when we arrive at the Fallen Oak.”
The old man gripped the bottle and with a slightly trembling hand, took a shallow draught of brandy and then passed it back to his young companion; “Thank you Edward.” He muttered and closed his eyes, but could not rest with any comfort – he must reach Oxford and hand the bag over – even then, the events of the past few weeks would haunt his mind until they lowered his cold dead body into its grave. But would he be able to rest in peace, knowing what had passed between him and the spectral that plagued him from the hereafter?
Especially the young woman, by God’s grace; what a woman!
And what a muse! Had he encountered her when he was a young man – like Edward is now – what difference to his life she would have made! The old man groaned openly and pushed a hand across his face; the tears were not from self pity, but from the knowledge of what could have been and never will be.
He glanced at the dozing Edward and was grateful that the boy had not seen the tears. He looked down at the bag and ran a hand across the soft leather, he believed the old satchel contained his ‘Master work’ and the story of what a man’s life could have been; had the fates been kinder.
William stared at the sleeping boy and smiled; Edward was the son of an old muse of his – Elizabeth had captivated the young William and the pair had become lovers; Edward was the fruit of that passion – but never knew that his ‘Uncle’ was de-facto; his father.
Elizabeth had died a few days after the boy’s birth with child-bed fever and William had taken charge of the infant, placing him with close friends who were childless and then took upon himself; the role of protective ‘Uncle’.
Now grown and schooling ended, the young Edward was enjoying the company of his Uncle and his close circle of friends, artists and actors. Edward had even tried his hand at being a wordsmith and actor – performing twice as a lady of the court, in one of William’s friends small plays, since real women were not allowed upon the stage by law; all their parts were performed by young men and boys.
“You did well boy and your writing could easily put food upon the table and a roof over your head.” William muttered to himself with a little pride, if he was really honest. William could not leave the boy much upon his death, but had arranged with his friend Ben Johnson, to ensure that Edward received money and goods he had placed aside. His wife Anne could have their old bed which she chilled over so many years and his daughters could have a proper dowry – he owed them that at least.
The thoughts of his own death now filled his troubled mind and soul – the spirits had been kind enough not to reveal the date of his passing, but William had inkling that it was close. He groaned quietly and clutched the leather satchel
again to his chest, then sat upright as old Harry called out the approaching Tavern, which also woke Edward from his temporary sleep.
“We’ll sup well and sleep even better in proper beds.” Edward yawned and stretched, pulling the curtain back to view the approaching lights of the tavern. William gripped the bag and wondered if he would be able to rest well this night. He also wondered, if he should reveal the visit of the strangers who apparently hailed from the ‘hereafter’, to young Edward.
Again, his thoughts turned to the young woman; beautiful, intelligent and knowledgeable – she was the Queen of Muses and had captured his old heart with just a smile. She had broken the constipation of his writers block in an instant and William had picked up the discarded quill’s and began to write again – mostly about her and for her.
The carriage slowed and stopped, with Edward pushing open the door and jumping into the mud that lay outside the tavern known as the ‘Fallen Oak’.
The Inn-keeper; Silas Redpenny was waiting with lamp in hand to greet his guests and escort them inside. A thin man with dirty hands and face grappled with the baggage handed down by old Harry and then staggered through the doorway, cursing quietly to himself and with some difficulty, he climbed the stairs to their allocated rooms and deposited the three cases inside. He grunted and cursed with disappointment, and a little frustration, that all three were securely padlocked. No little bonus for him tonight and he returned to the kitchens; to scavenge some meat and ale.
Silas ushered William and Edward into the bar and found them an empty rough, wooden table by the large fireplace, where Edward ordered beer, brandy and meats pies. They both sat staring into the fire that danced and flickered in the grate for a few minutes, before a young girl brought them their order.
Edward gave the girl two half-pennies for her trouble and she grinned broadly, curtsying low, so that the young man captured a good few of her large heaving breasts, barely restrained by a loose corset. “Anything else that I can get you Sir?” she whispered and slightly disappointed, wandered off when William interrupted the pair and said simply; ‘No.”
It must be noted that she wasn’t as disappointed as Edward, who gripped his tankard and wondered if he could get a message to her later. Edward watched as the young tart laughed and joked with two soldiers near the door, lifting her dress and petticoats, so that the men received a glance of what was on offer. He rubbed at his crotch and fantasised about those tits in his hands and mouth. The pleasant daydream was broken by his Uncle, who tapped the table with his knife, whilst slicing open his pie.
“I must speak to you on matters that are so important, your very future depends upon you understanding and acting upon what I say.” William gripped his ‘nephew’ by the arm, adding; “I was visited by the dead from the hereafter and the tale they imparted will turn your bowels to water.” He now had Edwards’s undivided attention.
William glanced about the quite room [for a tavern] and pulled Edward close and the story began in a whisper.
2. TIME STANDS STILL AT THE GLOBE THEATRE.
William sat upon a large rough chest, which contained various props, and re-read the letter from his Patron; the Earl of Oxford. He wiped his face several times, as the weather this summer evening was unfashionably warm, then looked towards the stage and sighed. “Get the bloody positions correct you morons!” He yelled and waved the parchment about, adding; “Tom! Get those spare men [extras] together; they are supposed to be an English army awaiting battle, not fisher wives gossiping whist gutting bloody herring!”
The cast and crew milled about the small wooden stage in haphazard order, even two small dogs appeared and ran about the place; it was chaos.
William carefully pushed the letter into his shirt pocket and ran his fingers through dark and greying hair; he strode over to stage and took command, shouting for several people to ‘fuck off’ from the stage and yelling for the actors to assemble in costume with their correct props.
‘King Henry V’ received William’s total wrath, when he appeared on stage – resplendent in full armour – but carrying a wooden club instead of his iconic sword. “So King Henry gave his famous ‘band of brothers’ address, whilst waving a fucking old wooden club about?” William yelled at the poor man who shuffled from the stage to seek the whereabouts of his elusive sword.
William stood hand on chin, as the stage at last, began to resemble something like performance order. That’s when he noticed that everyone was still – completely motionless. There was no sound, no dogs barking, no noise from the streets; nothing. He waited a few minutes, breathing heavily and with his heart racing, then he heard footsteps behind him and much relieved, turned about.
Four people stood quietly before him. William almost gasped; the young woman was simply stunning and he actually stepped back in awe of her. Then his eyes were drawn to the huge black man standing tall with arms folded. A bloody Moor! William crossed himself – something he had not done in many a year – The young man was most strangely dressed in dark clothes of apparent good quality and he was pushing a strange hand held mirror into the folds of his long dark coat. The boy standing at the rear had no real distinguishing attributes that William noticed – except he had a funny grin upon his face.
William bowed low and stared yet again at the woman; she had stolen his heart – even at his age! He desperately required quill and parchment, as a sonnet started to form in his head. But he remained standing quietly before the strange group until the young man removed his tall black hat and smiled; “Mister William Shakespeare?” and held out a hand.
William staggered back a little and sat upon the chest again, hands over his face for as few minutes. Finally he looked up and the four still stood before him – it was no hallucination bought on by drink or unknown fever or the dark curses of malevolent witches. They were real; he carefully looked about and saw all the actors and stage men were still fixed and unmoving.
Jericho repeated his question and William managed to whisper; “Yes”.
The young man asked, quite pleasantly, if they could talk somewhere private and more comfortable. With legs shaking a little, William escorted the four strangers to his rooms above the ‘Swan and Dog’. The walk to his rooms frightened him even more; everyone was still and there was no noise whatsoever or any movement, not even a gentle breeze and strangely enough, he could no longer feel the warmth of the day, despite the sun being at its zenith. He believed he was in the company of Angels, or probably worse, minions of the devil!
3. THE REAL SHAKESPEARE.
The rooms above the oddly named tavern were small, but apparently comfortable and suited William’s needs very well. Alex noticed parchment everywhere; it lay across tables, chairs and even the bed, she particularly noticed the crumpled up pieces strewn across the rough wooden floor and smiled. “I think the world’s most famous playwright has a writer’s blockage.” She said softly to Wilson, who nodded his agreement; “But with that look upon his face, his bowels won’t have that problem!”
They laughed quietly and William slumped upon his unmade bed and pushed several manuscripts from it; they cascaded upon the floor like a parchment waterfall. He snatched a dark bottle from the small table nearby and took a long gulp of Genever [Dutch Gin] and wiped his mouth – he felt much better.
That’s when he could hear street noises again and peered, with some relief, through the small window by the bed and could see the street thronged with moving people and barking dogs. Jericho drew his attention by pulling a dark, old manuscript from his coat and placing it upon the small table, next to the bottle.
“We really need to know if this script was written by you Mr. Shakespeare.” Jericho eased himself down up the chair, after carefully removing several pieces of unfinished parchment from it.
William slowly lifted the crumpled papers and cast his eyes over it, carefully turning a couple pages each time. He had a very puzzled expression upon his face. “Who is the Lady of Cappanni?” He finally asked and started to read with apparent real interest.
Jericho repeated his question and William took another swig from the bottle and shook his head; “No my friend, whilst it does appear to be by my hand – I have not written such a play.” He looked quite bewildered and studied the document closely; “I could swear that is the work of my hand, but it cannot be so!” He turned to Alex and smiled; “Sweet lady, you could rival Venus herself and the Gods would fall at your feet, vexed by thy face and those eyes that whisper sweetly of love and passion. Rivals for the sun in warmth and light – such emeralds could illuminate the darkness of any poor man’s heart and draw forth such love and fixed worship.”
He shook his head and said softly; “I must know your name or die poorer for its lack.” He reached across and grabbed paper and quill, adding; “I beg you, privilege me with your name and I will immortalise it in word and deed.”
Jericho chuckled at the expression upon Alex’s face and spoke directly to William; “That is the Lady of Cappanni.”
William gasped and rose from the bed, bowing quite low he said simply; “My Muse, my Muse!” Wilson turned to Alex, grinning broadly and also chuckled; “Alex, you are now famous. I’m pretty sure that not too many women became Shakespeare’s Muse in the space of a few minutes.” But Owen whispered in his ear; “Is that the same as becoming a Mistress?”
Everyone laughed, including Alex who thanked William for his compliment, but said she had to politely decline his generous offer. He slumped back upon the bed muttering; “All is lost; nothing now but the bitter taste of dark days and cold nights await my soul.” He sat head in hands after throwing both pen and parchment upon the floor. “I will never scratch another word or single letter upon paper again.”
The four stood in silence as the old man sobbed gently upon his ramshackle bed, shaking his head and finally dropped his hands, he looked up at a very disconcerted Alex and said simply; “Sweet lady, you have stilled my heart.”
Jericho attempted to explain who they were and why they visited him, but William rambled on about Alex’s refusal to become his ‘Muse’ and that he would never write again – he had finished the bottle of Genever and taken to beer. His language became quite foul and Jericho decided to call it a day. The little group of temporal detectives bade him farewell and simply vanished, which made him
faint upon the floor.
“So, that went well.” Jericho said with some sarcasm in his voice, but smiled at Alex, who had finished blushing at William’s words of love and passion. “I bet history doesn’t know that the great William Shakespeare was a dirty, foul mouthed, drunken old man, who threw tantrums if he didn’t get his way.”
Wilson laughed at that and agreed with Jericho’s assessment of the world’s greatest playwright. But Owen sighed loudly and looked quite sad; "A flawed genus." Wilson grinned, muttering; "From the mouth of babes pours wisdom." He slapped Owen on the back adding; "Right on baby brother!"
The four headed towards the lighthouse, anticipating dinner and the conversation recapping the day’s events. Alex walked with her arm through Owen's and just as they reached grand door of the lighthouse, she stopped and turned to Jericho; "Well, who did write it?"
Jericho shrugged his shoulders; "Well, unless Mr. Shakespeare has added lying to his repertoire of warm, human traits, we'll have to make a return journey and track them down - now lets have dinner!"
4. WELL, WHO DID WRITE IT?
The 18th Earl of Oxford sat behind his cluttered desk and pushed both hands through his hair, then placed them flat upon it. "So, these four creatures could halt time itself and yet still move with loose freedom - as you could yourself?"
Shakespeare nodded, clutching his wine goblet close to his heaving chest; "Yes Sir. The woman would have made Venus herself look like a tavern harlot." The old man smiled at the thought of Alex; the Lady of Cappanni and sipped some wine.
The young Earl chuckled and shook his head; this wretch was the one of the great playwrights and his work was even favoured by the late Queen herself - and his own father, Edward had many dealing with the man - yet what a tale he can impart and speak as if all was true and real.
The Earl slumped back in his chair and pushed some papers about and smiled slightly; "As favour to your friendship with my father and my sweet memory of him, you ask for what?"
William grinned nervously and smiled; "Some little advance, enough till I can finish this." The old man shuffled about in the leather bag at his feet and produced a wad of written papers and placed them carefully into the Earls outstretched hand. The fact that William's hand shook a little didn't go unnoticed by the young Lord.
He slowly read the first page that offered itself and straightened himself upon the chair. Saying nothing and not looking up at William, he quietly turned the well inked parchment, a sheet at a time. He lifted his goblet and sipped the fine French wine that waited there - he placed the glass upon the desk and drew a deep breath.
"The Lady of Cappanni performs duty for God by seeking out troubled souls and those who worship the Devil; in collusion with a big negro and a boy who plays the jester. The tall, dark young man has been ordained by the almighty himself and is Captain of such an incredulous company - he takes them forth, through all previous and future happenings - searching for others, by design or accident, that hath fallen into a place that is not theirs by birth. Do I have that true?"
William nodded his head vigorously; "I played the drunken fool and they made little disguise as to their true calling - how did they know, I would write such a piece; when I had not even placed quill upon parchment, before that day, about them?" He swallowed down his wine and looked for more, adding; "How would I have known about such a lady unless they imparted the tale to me, themselves, the papers not discovered for some four hundred years future hence?
The Earl agreed that was a tantalising mystery; if the four were not who they say; then how did they know the hereafter?" The Earl poured himself and William a refill; then sat back in his chair - thinking deeply. Some minutes passed in quiet thought and the Earl rubbed his chin - he did not smile and leaned across the desk and stared at William; the old man gulped and could feel sweat beneath his arms and crotch.
"I will agree to your request upon one condition; that I can see the woman of whom you speak and the young Captain of such a miraculous gang; are we in accord?" The Earl now smiled and folded his arms.
William appeared quite flustered and spluttered the words out; "But how can I call such creatures from the hereafter at will!" The Earl held up both hands; "They came upon you, when this script was found at some future date, merely add a reference to myself, at some relevant place, and they will come to both of us." Now the young Lord did grin broadly; the trap was laid - or so they thought.
William agreed to that provision and left the Earl's office; some Ten Pounds in silver richer [A very sizeable sum for that time] and happy at the prospect of meeting the Lady of Cappanni again.
He joined his nephew; Edward, by the grand staircase and the pair were shown out by the Earls Steward; Henry. They walked in forced silence until they reached their carriage. Inside and underway to the tavern, William pulled Edward close and revealed how he had talked the young Lord into agreeing with his incredible and cunning plan, to draw back the strange foursome and in particular; the Lady Alex.
Edward had to admit that his Uncle's plan was indeed clever; adding some simple references would draw them to the Earl. He praised his Uncle and they shared a small bottle of brandy between themselves.
Thus, William added several lines concerning the Earl and his discovery of the mirror that could show future times - purchased at great expense from Arab travellers who claimed it had been looted from Jerusalem by crusaders - Knight Templars to be exact - it was actually; quite a worthy work of fiction and would cause more discussion and investigation in future times. He had accidentally invented 'Science-fiction' - many years before anyone else!
William and Edward enjoyed themselves that night at the tavern; they ate well, drank much wine and brandy, singing ribald songs with other customers. Young Edward finally managed to lay the tavern trollop for tuppence, but found he scratched his crotch a great deal in the coming days. Finally, he had to shave his pubic hair to rid himself of the persistent little creatures, that had taken up residence there.
The pair waited in the tavern and the Earl waited in his Manor House for the re-appearance of the Temporal Detectives - they wouldn't have to wait long.
5. THE 'JOLLY' SCOTSMAN.
Jericho accepted his 'ticking off' in silence - apart from a few nods of his head; where appropriate. Arch-Angel Michael made his position and orders quite clear and concise; return the human time-line to its original course and ensure the 'damn' play is never written. His final words would not make Alex happy; she was to be removed from the mission - for the time being - and take no further part in any dealings with the great William Shakespeare or the interfering Earl of Oxford.
Angel Margret allowed herself a little smile as she walked with Jericho back to her office. The Angel had supported her Temporal Inspector - as she normally did - and that didn't go un-noticed or surprise anyone, in the Temporal Detectives Department. They all knew they could rely on their 'Boss' for backup.
At dinner that night, Jericho explained the amended mission to his team and Alex did not hide her disappointment and frustration at being 'stood down' in the middle of a mission, through no fault of her own!
"The main fault was mine, I should have returned Shakespeare back to the theatre where we made first contact, so that the time we spent with him didn't exist." Jericho shrugged his shoulders and continued; "But the old bugger fooled us by pretending to pass out through drink. He then contacted this Earl of Oxford and they concocted up a plan to get us - particularly Alex - to return."
"So now we have to unravel this mess because the human time-line is undergoing change; unwanted changes." Wilson leaned back in his chair and then smiled; "Still Alex look on the bright side; you can catch up on your knitting!"
Everyone chuckled - including Alex.
"So we're not under strength for this, I've borrowed another detective from Stella Longstreet [the Inspector of Team 35] and Alex will replace them for the duration of this mission. They should arrive any minute now." Jericho gestured to the empty dinner place and sipped his wine, glancing at the clock.
The clock said '7.35pm' - but then it always did.
Mr. Harris appeared and announced the arrival of Temporal Detective Constable James 'Jumbo' Jolly for dinner and briefing. Everyone knew the feisty little Scotsman and Wilson muttered quite loudly; "Lock up the women and whisky!"
'Jumbo' dropped into the seat and grinned, picked up the wine glass and swallowed it down; "Greetings comrades, I've longed tae try Mrs. Harris's cookin'."
He grabbed up his knife and fork and started into the spaghetti bolognaise with some gusto. He really wasn't one for polite conversation, when there was good food to eat or whisky to drink.
He only stopped eating once; to smile at Alex and wave his knife about. "Sweit heaven Alex, yer still a crackin' piece ay skirt - th' best I've ever seen an' nae ferlie 'at auld twat Shakespeaur wrote a bleedin' play abit ye!" He then set about his dinner to the finish, the eating punctuated with glasses of whisky. To everyone's amazement and a little amusement, he licked his plate and belched, patting his stomach.
"Teel 'at lassie ay yoors, 'at she can feckin' cuik. 'at was stoatin - onie mair?" He asked the disconcerted Mr. Harris who refilled his whisky glass - yet again. "Lae th' bottle cheil." He winked and tapped the big man's arm, with a wide grin.
"He wasn't around when polite society was invented." Wilson explained to Mr. Harris, who sighed loudly and placed the bottle down. That made the little Scot smile broadly and ask where his pudding was or at least, that's what Mr. Harris understood he said.
James 'Jumbo' Jolly had been killed at the battle of Culloden Moor in 1746. Apparently his broad sword had snapped and wearing only his kilt and boots, continued to attack the English soldiers with the only weapon he could find to hand - a large spoon. It proved useless against musket fire and Jumbo found himself in the 'hereafter'. He accepted Angel Francis's [the duty death angel at the time] offer and became a Collector, eventually joining the Temporal Detectives Department - he had never returned to the human life-cycle since his
demise in 1746.
"Ah acnt be arsed wi' aw 'at dyin' jobby." He would explain, if asked why he had never returned to human existence and the powerful little man still dressed as a Highland Warrior - complete with sword, dagger, kilt, sporran and totally unrecognisable speech [well, to anyone who couldn't speak Scottish].
Lucky enough, and with some forethought, Owen had obtained a small copy of the translation book; 'Scottish to English - for beginners and Sassenach's'. So he could almost understand the little man.
The dinner party proved quite interesting for all and Jumbo cornered Alex by the fireplace and told her all about the Highlands in the 1700's. He spoke for some time, adding songs to liven up the conversation and on a couple of occasions, lifted his kilt to show his pockmarked white arse - which was probably, part of his interesting tales.
Young Ruth admitted to feeling a little giddy upon seeing Jumbo's bare-arse; "You don't need to see THAT when your clearing away the dinner table!" She muttered and returned to the safety of the kitchen - at least there was no naked backsides on show - Mrs. Harris would never allow such a thing in a food preparation area!
Wilson managed to pull Alex away and leave Owen to entertain the little Scotsman; "What was he on about Alex?" He asked, really puzzled.
Alex shrugged her shoulders and sipped her brandy; "I really don't know - I didn't understand a bloody word!" She smiled and eased into her armchair by the fire; "Not a bloody word since he arrived." She quietly added.
6. SOMEONE IS GOING TO BE DISAPPOINTED.
The young Earl shifted his weight and thrust , good and hard, again. His sword found empty air, as his fencing master superbly side stepped his clumsily blow. "Keep the blade a little low and straight!" Senor Felipe Humberto yelled in English and the blades flashed again. Both men jumped back and each poised themselves and their swords to strike again.
That's when the Earl noticed his man servant signalling to him from the doorway of the old hall. "What is it Henry?" He panted and lowered his sword. The servant bowed; "Thou has visitors my lord. I have placed them in the library." The Earl looked a little puzzled; "I expect no unsolicited callers." He muttered and placed his sword upon the nearby table and made his apologies to Senor Felipe Humberto.
That's when the Earl noticed his man servant signalling to him from the doorway of the old hall. "What is it Henry?" He panted and lowered his sword. The servant bowed; "Thou has visitors my lord. I have placed them in the library." The Earl looked a little puzzled; "I expect no unsolicited callers." He muttered and placed his sword upon the nearby table and made his apologies to Senor Felipe Humberto.
As the pair walked to the library, Henry confided to his master; "They are a most peculiar couple my lord and must travel in a miraculous manner." That stopped the young Earl in his tracks. "How mean you a miraculous manner?" Old Henry pointed to the thick glass window of the small hall; "Tis rained since early morn my lord and still it falls - yet neither man has wet garments or muddied boots. They have no carriage waiting; Most peculiar." The Earl hid his smile and joy; they were here - but what of the beauty?
He ordered Henry to bring drinks and slowly opened the grand library door. Jericho and Owen were admiring the family portraits and tapestries hanging on the walls. The Earl took a breath and walked in; smiling. Jericho turned and bowed a little; "The Earl of Oxford I presume." The Earl nodded and walked slowly to his desk, not once did his eyes leave the pair, he sat and adjusted his tunic; "Of what assistance can I offer?" he asked and placed both hands upon the desk, adding; "Please be seated gentlemen."
Jericho and Owen dropped into the chairs facing the Earl and Jericho produced a bundle of parchment from his coat pocket and slapped it upon the desk. "We wish to know why this play was written. The handwriting is old William Shakespeare's; there's no doubt about that. How did the old man know about our colleague Lady Alex before he even met her?" Jericho leaned back and pulled his mirror from his coat pocket and studied the screen. Owen took up the conversation: "You see, the play has already changed since it was first discovered in 1994. You have now made an appearance, no doubt at your own request and so we know you are involved in this."
The Earl smiled and told the pair of Temporal Detectives about the visit of William Shakespeare and how enamoured he was with the Lady of Cappanni. Henry De Vere was quite honest with the pair and explained his wish to meet both Jericho and the good lady. He also mentioned the money he had paid Mr. Shakespeare. "I just wished to know about the 'hereafter' and more importantly about God." He further explained and sat back in his chair. He wondered where old Henry was with the drinks.
Jericho grunted and rose from his chair and pointed to the door; "I wonder if you would indulge me for a moment?" he asked the Earl who stood slowly and nodded. The pair walked to the door, leaving a much bemused Owen sitting reading his mirror - he knew what was about to happen.
Had time been moving forward [as it should] several minutes would have passed before Jericho and Henry De Vere returned to the library. The Earl made for the brandy immediately and poured himself a large glass. He was clearly and visibly shocked by the experience of seeing time standing still. "They were like statues...." He kept muttering to himself. He slumped in his chair and stared at the pair of Temporal Detectives with real fear.
"So you are quite adamant that Shakespeare stated that he wrote the play AFTER we had visited him, then together with yourself, added extra material to make us return?" Jericho pulled his mirror from his pocket as the Earl slowly nodded yes and whispered the same. "When we leave here you will remember nothing of this discussion and you will be taken back to just before we encountered Mr. Shakespeare and thus he will have no play to sell about any Lady of Cappanni." Jericho jabbed his mirror and returned to the lighthouse with Owen in tow.
Jericho had now worked out the problem; Mr. Shakespeare had not been acting when first confronted with the script, in his rooms above the 'Swan and Dog' tavern. He had placed quill to parchment after the Temporal Detectives had visited him and after he had encountered the 'muse' called the Lady of Cappanni.
"Now lets get this mess sorted out." He chuckled and dispatched Wilson and 'Jumbo' to complete the mission.
Henry De Vere sat at his study desk and read the letter before him from the Duke of Norfolk. His servant Henry appeared with bread, cheese, apples and wine. "Lady De Vere solicits that you digest your noon time supper my lord." He placed the tray down and adjusted the rich decorated curtains. The Earl remembered nothing of the Temporal Detectives visit; all that took place between him and them, had occurred in less than a tenth of a human second.
Shakespeare and his 'nephew' Edward sat drinking in the tavern with William a little concerned, that he had heard nothing from his patron; the Earl. William leaned back in his rough chair and rubbed his eyes; several tankards of beer had made him tired. He yawned and slapped his beer down upon the table; "I do speculate that the spirits dawdle in this matter." He chuckled, speaking softly to Edward, who said nothing. That's when William realised that everyone had stopped. The spirits from the 'hereafter' were back.
William rose slowly from his chair as Wilson and 'Jumbo' approached the table - unsmiling. "No muse!" William groaned and finished his beer.
7. A MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE.
Wilson eased his big frame onto a rough chair opposite William, whilst 'Jumbo' stood behind with his arms folded. "Sae this is th' famous uilleam shakespear, whit a pish heid. " He muttered and eyed the full tankards on the table.
William stared at the pair and slid down onto his chair; "By Lord Jesus, tis a Moor and a mad Scot." He spoke quietly and despaired that he would never again, view the beauty of his 'Lady of Cappanni'.
Wilson pulled his mirror out and gave William a re-cap of what had happened. "My Inspector deems that the error was his for not returning you to a time before we visited you and thus you just couldn't resist writing that damn play about our Alex." William gulped and nodded his head; "My words were not untrue, verily I say, that pen was placed upon parchment after viewing the fair Lady of Cappanni." He grabbed a tankard and managed to swallow a couple of times before he slid from the chair and lay upon the floor; swearing with some passion.
"Lets git this twat back tae his theatre afore ye 'n' Jericho arrived." Jumbo muttered and with Wilson's assistance, heaved the incumbent Shakespeare to his feet and headed for the door; past his motionless 'nephew' and other still customers. Outside, Wilson pulled his mirror out and tapped on the travel app and the three men were gone.
Edward looked around the tavern and wondered why the hell he was sitting in an Oxfordshire pub; miles from home and where the fuck was Uncle William?
William Shakespeare staggered to his feet and gripped his head with both hands; his hangover was appalling and he slumped down upon the chest and wiped his face several times, as the weather this summer evening was unfashionably warm, then looked towards the stage and sighed. “Get the bloody positions correct you morons!” He yelled and waved the parchment about, adding; “Tom! Get those spare men [extras] together; they are supposed to be an English army awaiting battle, not fisher wives gossiping whist gutting bloody herring!”
He then groaned loudly and immediately regretted shouting so loud and accepted a flagon of ale from a stage-boy and drank it down without stopping. He rubbed his eyes and mouth and stared at the cast and crew, who milled about the small wooden stage in haphazard order, even two small dogs appeared and ran about the place; it was chaos.
William ran his fingers through dark and greying hair; then he strode over to stage and took command, shouting for several people to ‘fuck off’ from the stage and yelling for the actors to assemble in costume with their correct props.
‘King Henry V’ received William’s total wrath, when he appeared on stage – resplendent in full armour – but carrying a wooden club instead of his iconic sword. “So King Henry gave his famous ‘band of brothers’ address, whilst waving a fucking old wooden club about?” William yelled at the poor man who shuffled from the stage to seek the whereabouts of his elusive sword.
William slumped back down upon the chest and groaned quite loudly; "What a bunch of feeble brained merry Andrews!" He whispered and demanded that David - the young stage-boy - bring him more ale. "I'm going to need it with this mob." He said to himself and sighed; "A fucking Midsummer nightmare clearly placed I think."
No-one, of course, saw the four Temporal Detectives walk away from the pathetic rehearsals and Jericho consulted his mirror with some satisfaction; "Alexandra's fifteen minutes of fame has gone. The time-line has been restored." He chuckled and slapped 'Jumbo' on the back and wondered if he would like to join the team for dinner.
"Pumpin' richt ah wid, guid fairn 'n' a stunning piece o' skirt tae keek at, wha wouldn't? " He replied and Jericho just nodded; I take it that mean's yes, he reasoned.
EPILOGUE:
"This was a strange mission for the team; by any standards. They appeared to have caused it to exist! Nevertheless, they did sort the mess out and the play' 'The Lady of Cappanni' never surfaced in the current human time line. At least that did make Angel Margret happy!"
W.A.S.
He ordered Henry to bring drinks and slowly opened the grand library door. Jericho and Owen were admiring the family portraits and tapestries hanging on the walls. The Earl took a breath and walked in; smiling. Jericho turned and bowed a little; "The Earl of Oxford I presume." The Earl nodded and walked slowly to his desk, not once did his eyes leave the pair, he sat and adjusted his tunic; "Of what assistance can I offer?" he asked and placed both hands upon the desk, adding; "Please be seated gentlemen."
Jericho and Owen dropped into the chairs facing the Earl and Jericho produced a bundle of parchment from his coat pocket and slapped it upon the desk. "We wish to know why this play was written. The handwriting is old William Shakespeare's; there's no doubt about that. How did the old man know about our colleague Lady Alex before he even met her?" Jericho leaned back and pulled his mirror from his coat pocket and studied the screen. Owen took up the conversation: "You see, the play has already changed since it was first discovered in 1994. You have now made an appearance, no doubt at your own request and so we know you are involved in this."
The Earl smiled and told the pair of Temporal Detectives about the visit of William Shakespeare and how enamoured he was with the Lady of Cappanni. Henry De Vere was quite honest with the pair and explained his wish to meet both Jericho and the good lady. He also mentioned the money he had paid Mr. Shakespeare. "I just wished to know about the 'hereafter' and more importantly about God." He further explained and sat back in his chair. He wondered where old Henry was with the drinks.
Jericho grunted and rose from his chair and pointed to the door; "I wonder if you would indulge me for a moment?" he asked the Earl who stood slowly and nodded. The pair walked to the door, leaving a much bemused Owen sitting reading his mirror - he knew what was about to happen.
Had time been moving forward [as it should] several minutes would have passed before Jericho and Henry De Vere returned to the library. The Earl made for the brandy immediately and poured himself a large glass. He was clearly and visibly shocked by the experience of seeing time standing still. "They were like statues...." He kept muttering to himself. He slumped in his chair and stared at the pair of Temporal Detectives with real fear.
"So you are quite adamant that Shakespeare stated that he wrote the play AFTER we had visited him, then together with yourself, added extra material to make us return?" Jericho pulled his mirror from his pocket as the Earl slowly nodded yes and whispered the same. "When we leave here you will remember nothing of this discussion and you will be taken back to just before we encountered Mr. Shakespeare and thus he will have no play to sell about any Lady of Cappanni." Jericho jabbed his mirror and returned to the lighthouse with Owen in tow.
Jericho had now worked out the problem; Mr. Shakespeare had not been acting when first confronted with the script, in his rooms above the 'Swan and Dog' tavern. He had placed quill to parchment after the Temporal Detectives had visited him and after he had encountered the 'muse' called the Lady of Cappanni.
"Now lets get this mess sorted out." He chuckled and dispatched Wilson and 'Jumbo' to complete the mission.
Henry De Vere sat at his study desk and read the letter before him from the Duke of Norfolk. His servant Henry appeared with bread, cheese, apples and wine. "Lady De Vere solicits that you digest your noon time supper my lord." He placed the tray down and adjusted the rich decorated curtains. The Earl remembered nothing of the Temporal Detectives visit; all that took place between him and them, had occurred in less than a tenth of a human second.
Shakespeare and his 'nephew' Edward sat drinking in the tavern with William a little concerned, that he had heard nothing from his patron; the Earl. William leaned back in his rough chair and rubbed his eyes; several tankards of beer had made him tired. He yawned and slapped his beer down upon the table; "I do speculate that the spirits dawdle in this matter." He chuckled, speaking softly to Edward, who said nothing. That's when William realised that everyone had stopped. The spirits from the 'hereafter' were back.
William rose slowly from his chair as Wilson and 'Jumbo' approached the table - unsmiling. "No muse!" William groaned and finished his beer.
7. A MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE.
Wilson eased his big frame onto a rough chair opposite William, whilst 'Jumbo' stood behind with his arms folded. "Sae this is th' famous uilleam shakespear, whit a pish heid. " He muttered and eyed the full tankards on the table.
William stared at the pair and slid down onto his chair; "By Lord Jesus, tis a Moor and a mad Scot." He spoke quietly and despaired that he would never again, view the beauty of his 'Lady of Cappanni'.
Wilson pulled his mirror out and gave William a re-cap of what had happened. "My Inspector deems that the error was his for not returning you to a time before we visited you and thus you just couldn't resist writing that damn play about our Alex." William gulped and nodded his head; "My words were not untrue, verily I say, that pen was placed upon parchment after viewing the fair Lady of Cappanni." He grabbed a tankard and managed to swallow a couple of times before he slid from the chair and lay upon the floor; swearing with some passion.
"Lets git this twat back tae his theatre afore ye 'n' Jericho arrived." Jumbo muttered and with Wilson's assistance, heaved the incumbent Shakespeare to his feet and headed for the door; past his motionless 'nephew' and other still customers. Outside, Wilson pulled his mirror out and tapped on the travel app and the three men were gone.
Edward looked around the tavern and wondered why the hell he was sitting in an Oxfordshire pub; miles from home and where the fuck was Uncle William?
William Shakespeare staggered to his feet and gripped his head with both hands; his hangover was appalling and he slumped down upon the chest and wiped his face several times, as the weather this summer evening was unfashionably warm, then looked towards the stage and sighed. “Get the bloody positions correct you morons!” He yelled and waved the parchment about, adding; “Tom! Get those spare men [extras] together; they are supposed to be an English army awaiting battle, not fisher wives gossiping whist gutting bloody herring!”
He then groaned loudly and immediately regretted shouting so loud and accepted a flagon of ale from a stage-boy and drank it down without stopping. He rubbed his eyes and mouth and stared at the cast and crew, who milled about the small wooden stage in haphazard order, even two small dogs appeared and ran about the place; it was chaos.
William ran his fingers through dark and greying hair; then he strode over to stage and took command, shouting for several people to ‘fuck off’ from the stage and yelling for the actors to assemble in costume with their correct props.
‘King Henry V’ received William’s total wrath, when he appeared on stage – resplendent in full armour – but carrying a wooden club instead of his iconic sword. “So King Henry gave his famous ‘band of brothers’ address, whilst waving a fucking old wooden club about?” William yelled at the poor man who shuffled from the stage to seek the whereabouts of his elusive sword.
William slumped back down upon the chest and groaned quite loudly; "What a bunch of feeble brained merry Andrews!" He whispered and demanded that David - the young stage-boy - bring him more ale. "I'm going to need it with this mob." He said to himself and sighed; "A fucking Midsummer nightmare clearly placed I think."
No-one, of course, saw the four Temporal Detectives walk away from the pathetic rehearsals and Jericho consulted his mirror with some satisfaction; "Alexandra's fifteen minutes of fame has gone. The time-line has been restored." He chuckled and slapped 'Jumbo' on the back and wondered if he would like to join the team for dinner.
"Pumpin' richt ah wid, guid fairn 'n' a stunning piece o' skirt tae keek at, wha wouldn't? " He replied and Jericho just nodded; I take it that mean's yes, he reasoned.
"This was a strange mission for the team; by any standards. They appeared to have caused it to exist! Nevertheless, they did sort the mess out and the play' 'The Lady of Cappanni' never surfaced in the current human time line. At least that did make Angel Margret happy!"
W.A.S.
CHARACTERS:
Silas Redpenny; the Innkeeper, became a friend of William and Edward. He loved having the writers and actors that attended his tavern in their company. He married three times and had several children. His 'coaching Inn' still stands to this day as a de-luxe country hotel. The connections with the great William Shakespeare are unknown to the the current owners [and many of the previous owners]. Silas died in 1624 from the effects of untreated syphilis. His soul was collected and processed.
Henry De Vere - 18th Earl of Oxford - died in 1625 whilst at war in Holland. His soul was collected and processed.
Harry Legg, William's coachman, died in 1612. He was found sitting at the reins of his coach outside 'The Crown' Tavern. He had been dead for some time and people were a little frightened and amazed that he had completed his trip whilst stone dead! No-one realised that his faithful pair of horses knew the route better than their master and simply carried on after his demise. His soul was collected and processed.
Henry Smallwood, the Earl's man servant died in 1615, from what would be later diagnosed as 'Bowel Cancer' - it was unknown at the time. The old man admitted to family and close friends, that he was plagued by dreams of two strangers who came from the 'hereafter'. His soul was collected and processed.
Senor Felipe Humberto returned to his native land of Spain and became the fencing master to a powerful Spanish family in Madrid, Unfortunately, whilst instructing the young son of the family, the boy [aged nine] ran him through with his little sword - with fatal consequences. Felipe died in 1631 and his soul was collected and processed.
SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY William Shakespeare, as himself.
William Shakespeare died on his 52nd birthday in 1619 [so legend has it] after a night of heavy drinking with two other writers, Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton. His soul was collected and processed. He remains an enigmatic figure despite his huge fame.
William Shakespeare
| |
|---|---|
The Chandos portrait (held by the National Portrait Gallery, London)
| |
| Born | |
| Baptised | 26 April 1564 |
| Died | 23 April 1616 (aged 51)
Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, England
|
| Resting place | Church of the Holy Trinity, Stratford-upon-Avon |
| Occupation |
|
| Years active | c. 1585–1613 |
| Era | |
| Movement | English Renaissance |
| Spouse(s) |
Anne Hathaway (m. 1582)
|
| Children | |
| Parents |
|
| Signature | |
 | |
 |
| SOME OF THESE OPTIONS MAY BE CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE. |
This will return you to the PUBLISHED SEASONAL EPISODES LISTING PAGE of the series. TO VIEW THIS PAGE: CLICK HERE!
To EXIT from the website 'THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF JERICHO TIBBS!' CLICK HERE!
 |
| "William Alexander Stephens." |
Copyright © 2011-2020 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without permission.
