Much Ado About Murder

“Well, I gave Ben my report, relaying to him Corwin’s words as best I could, and as I spoke, his eyes grew wide and he appeared most disconcerted. He bade me tell him how much time had passed since Corwin left for Master Leonardo’s house and, in truth, I was not certain.” Shakespeare spread his hands out. “I told him ‘twas scarce an hour or so, perhaps less, perhaps more… I could not be more precise. At this, he seemed somewhat torn and confessed to me that he felt his duty was to remain and rehearse with the company, for his was the key role in the play, and yet, he was moved to rush straight off to Master Leonardo’s home, but knew ‘twas already too late to prevent Corwin from speaking to him. The damage, he decided, had doubtless already been done. If Corwin had gone to Master Leonardo in a fit of temper and denounced his daughter as a whore, then there would be no possibility of any intercession. An Englishman, he said, would never forgive a man who so besmirched his daughter’s honor; a Genoan would very likely kill him.”

“Prophetic words,” said Phillips, “save only ‘twas the Genoan who was killed.”

“Indeed,” said Shakespeare. “I said to him then, ‘Ben, if blood is likely to be spilt, then to the devil with the play! You must go and try to stop it!’ And he considered, then replied that knowing Master Leonardo as he did, ‘twas little chance that he would drink hot blood and allow rage to drive him into violence. Without a doubt, he thought, Master Leonardo would insist upon satisfaction and seek it in the honorable, formal manner of the code duello.”

“What did they do? Fight a duel right there in his home?” asked Pope.

“Of course not, you cretin!” Kemp said. “One fights a duel at sunrise, according to the code, with seconds and all the forms properly observed!”

“Don’t you go calling me a cretin, you sheeptupper!” Pope replied, rounding on Kemp, but a low growl from Stackpole silenced them both.

“Never mind them,” said Smythe, with a grimace. “Go on, Will. Then what happened? I cannot believe I slept through all of this!”

“You would have slept through the flood,” said Shakespeare. “You awoke every now and then, but only for a moment or two, and never quite completely. I began to grow concerned, but Granny Meg assured me that-”

“Aye, never mind him, either; he survived, get on with it!” said Kemp.

“Thank you, Kemp, your concern touches me deeply,” Smythe said, dryly.

“Stuff it!” Kemp replied. “Go on, Will.”

“Where was I?” Shakespeare asked with a frown.

“They were going to fight a duel,” Molly prompted him. “Or at least Ben thought they would.”

“Aye, just so,” said Shakespeare. “Say, Stackpole, this is thirsty work. A man could use a drink.”

Stackpole scowled. “Right. Just one, mind! And then you pay”.

“You are a prince among men, Courtney,” Shakespeare said expansively.

“And you are a bloody sot among lushes,” Stackpole retorted, irately. “Get on with your story, then!”

“And so I shall. Ben decided that the thing to do would be to let both men have their air, and then speak to each of them the following day, for there could be no opportunity for them to fight a duel the very next morning. Seconds would have to be found first, and then second, those seconds would need to meet and appoint a time and place, and thirdly, weapons would need to be chosen, and so forth.”

“They would need to choose weapons fourth?” said Pope. “Why not chose weapons first?”

Shakespeare shook his head. “Nay, they would need to chose weapons and so forth… I suppose there is no reason why they could not choose weapons first.”

“Well, if they chose weapons first, then what would they choose fourth?” persisted Pope.

“He said that they would choose weapons thirdly,” said Phillips.

“He just said that they would choose them first!”

“Nay, he said they would choose them fourth,” said Bryan.

“I said they needed to choose weapons and… so… forth,” said Shakespeare.

“So fourth what?” asked Pope. “They would meet?”

“Nay, they needed to meet first,” replied Phillips.

“I thought they needed to meet second,” Pope said, frowning.

“First, the seconds need to be appointed,” Shakespeare explained, patiently. “Second, the seconds have to meet.”

“Aye, ‘tis why they call them seconds, you buffoon,” said Phillips, tossing a lump of bread at Pope.

“Oh, for heavens sake!” said Shakespeare, getting exasperated. “They do not call them seconds because they must meet second; they call them seconds because they are seconds!”

“So then who is called first?” asked Pope.

“No one is called first!” said Shakespeare, clenching both hands into fists.

“Well, that makes no bloody sense!” said Pope, irritably. “Why would you call someone second if there is no first?”

“Right!” said Shakespeare, leaning forward and fixing him with a direct gaze. “The duelists are called firsts, and the seconds are called seconds. Got it?”

“Second at what?” asked Pope.