Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act 1 Scene 2 Subscene 4

 Act One Scene Two

Sub-Scene Four

The Widow

“Dearest Hamlet, stop wearing these black clothes.” Gertrude had intruded upon the table. She was dressed in a white high-necked gown and held a half-faced veil over her eyes.

“Mother,” Hamlet leaned over to lay a kiss on the lady.

“I have been looking for you and once I glanced at you, you moved away.” Gertrude frowned at the man’s dressing. “I left you a fine set of white on the bedding for you. Why are you not dressed in that?”

“The virginal white? It does not suit me. I am into black and it’s the trend of society today.” Hamlet smiled. “The white suits you well, Mother. A renewed chastity would be my impression.”

“My chastity was preserved well for your father, mind you, and will be for whoever I am to provide the key.” Gertrude defended her honor.

“I believe you so, Mother.” Hamlet smiled.

“Hamlet, the new Emperor is the King of Denmark now.” Gertrude moved the subject back to Hamlet. “You can’t spend your whole life with your eyes aimed down at the ground, looking for your noble father in the dust. You know it’s common. Everything that lives must die, passing from nature to heaven.”

“Yes, mother. It’s common.” Hamlet shrugged his shoulders as if it was another standing ovation for his act.

“If that’s so, why does it seems like such an issue to you?” Gertrude stared at her son. “It’s also my wedding.”

“Seem,” mother? No, it is. I don’t know the meaning of “seems.”. My dressing, Mother.” Hamlet pulled at the lapel of his coat. “Good mother, the black clothes I wear each day, my heavy sighs, the tears from my eyes, the sadness visible in my face, or any other show of grief cannot capture what I feel.”

“Tragic are my scenes this season. I have to draw on ….grief and ….. anger. All these things “seem” like madness, since they’re just what a person would do to act like they were grieving in a play.” Hamlet was immersed in his act then. “But inside of me, I have real grief, of which these clothes and displays of grief are just an outward representation.”

“Can I share it, Hamlet?” It was Claudius who asked.

“I…” Hamlet looked at the man who will be his mother’s bedside. “My keys are still with me alone.”

“Keys?” Claudius was confused. “Hamlet, it is sweet and good that you mourn like this for your father. But you must also remember that your father lost his father, who in turn lost his father, and each time the son had a duty to mourn for his father for a certain time.”

Hamlet looked from Claudius then to Gertrude. He was to step away when Claudius added.

“But to continue to mourn out of sheer stubbornness is blasphemous. It isn’t manly. It does not fit with God’s desires, and it indicates a too-soft heart, an undisciplined mind, and a general lack of knowledge. When we know that something must eventually happen—and that it happens to everyone—why should we get it into our heads to oppose it?” Claudius looked at his wedded partner.

“Indeed! It ends.” Claudius looked back at Hamlet. “We must embrace the new beginning. Acting this way is a crime against heaven, a crime against the dead, and a crime against nature.”

“To a reasonable mind, it is absurd, since the death of fathers—from the first corpse until the most recent—is an inescapable theme of life.” Claudius looked at Polonius. “Great Chamberlain, I ask you, to give up your ceaseless mourning, and think of me as your new father… the new King. The Emperor.”

“Let the world understand: you are the next in line for the throne, and I feel as much love for you as any father feels for his son. As for your desire to return to wherever you called abode, Wittenberg, it’s not what I would want. So I beg you, please give in to my request and remain here, where you can bring joy and comfort—as the highest-ranking member of my court, my nephew, and now my son.”

The audience in the hall clapped and gave the Emperor a standing ovation. The Emperor took his bow.

No one took notice of Laertes's departure by the side door.

“I shall, Mither.” Hamlet bows toward the Emperor.

“My dear wife, come. Hamlet’s easy willingness to stay has made me glad, and in honor of it, every happy toast I’ll drink today will sound like cannons up to the clouds above. My drinking will echo against the heavens like thunder. Come on.” The Emperor motioned to the musicians to play “Ain’t Misbehaving” by Fats Waller.

I don't stay out late
Don't care to go
I'm home at about eight
Just me and my radio
Ain't misbehavin'
I'm savin' my love for you

Ain't Misbehavin' lyrics – Fats Waller. 1929

 

Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act 1 Scene 2 Subscene 3

 Act One Scene Two

Sub-Scene Three

The Prodigal Sons.

The Great Chamberlain, Polonius had waited patiently for the meal to be served. It was not hunger that prevailed in him but a sense of impatience to see the event ends soon. He stole glances at his only son, Laertes, seated some distance from him, unlike what a son should be when with his father. The man was with his peers, who were unlike him having cheerful sessions, while he sat brooding in his expression. Perhaps, he still grief for the death of the King whom he had considered as his better father.

“Laertes had grown more since I last saw him.” The one seated next to Polonius was the Emperor himself, Claudis the Great as he was named.

“Yes, I did not see him for a great many years. He was in Paris, as I was made to know, pursuing his passion in the arts.” The father of the man declared.

“Ah, yes. The young at heart seems to flutter far from the next.” Claudius smiled. “I am once without a son but now with one that I have yet to know.”

“Soon, my Emperor,” Polonius said with a smile. Laertes approached the table then. He stood on the Emperor’s side and bowed to the one there.

And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit.” The Emperor spoke as if he was in the play with the King playing the supporting role to ask him of something.

“What is it,  Laertes? You mentioned that you have a favor to ask of me. You’ll never be wasting your words by making a reasonable request of the King of Denmark… or rather the yet-to-be-ascended King. Ask for that I wouldn’t give you?” Claudius laughed. “Though your father is as vital to the throne as the head is to the heart or the hand to the mouth. What do you want, Laertes?”

“My powerful lord,…. I duly apologize. It should be, my duly Emperor.” Laertes bowed bis head once more. “I’d like your permission to go back to France. Though I came willingly to Denmark to show my loyalty at your coronation, now that my duty is done, I must admit that my thoughts are once more directed toward France. I hope you will give me your permission to go.”

“Do I detect a flutter of the hearts there, Polonius?” Claudius mocked the young man. “Surely, you are his father will know.”

“Do you have your father’s permission?” Claudius looked at the young man. “Blood is thicker than… mere loyalty.”

“Yes, he has, and won my permission by asking me over and over again.” Polonius made a weak smile. “I finally gave consent but he does have to seek yours too. Do allow him.”

“Ah, the courtesy of our generation. Once when we only hear the King, now we may be asked of the Emperor.” Claudius remarked before turning to Laertes.

“Yes, my son. You may leave when you are ready.” Claudius smiled and then looked around. “I wonder how far my other son, Hamlet? My nephew and my ….son now. I hope not brooding in the chamber. We missed him at the funeral.”

“I am here, Claudius.” Hamlet appeared from behind the Emperor.

“Sneaking on me like before, Hamlet. I do wish you were more forwarding for us to meet.” Claudius turned to look at the peer of Laertes. Both of them are of the same age, with closely associated passion; one on the stage and the other behind the scenes. Peers with different talents but never a joint effort in their work. Professional envy was the excuse said by many.

“Much ado about nothing.” The King once remarked on the duo. The headlines played it differently; the actors have their stage to marvel at.

“A little more than kin and less than kind.” Hamlet stood there still dressed in the dark tuxedo and white gloves holding eh stalk of lilac. He had known Claudius since birth and was even considered at some stage,  the doting father to the child while the King was at his rehearsals or on the road with the plays.

“We should reconnect again, Hamlet.” Claudius looked at the other. “I do miss you with my plays and schedules.”

It was remarked that one once has the three maestros shared the same stage. It was headlined as ‘trifecta of heaven, hell and the living world’, the King with the Emperor and leading them was the young also named Hamlet. It was by chance a meet of the trio on stage but not since then they have not shared the stage, or as remarked by one critic that it shall be only death that to be their next meet.

“Why are you so gloomy, Hamlet?”Claudius asked. “As a courtesy, we kept him here for your return.”

“I have been in the sun far too long,” Hamlet replied. The sun there is the applause of the audience and hence his adoration for it. He saw then the approaching mother.

 

Chronicles of the Brittany Kings Chapter 34

 34

 

“You looked fine for an old King.” Hengist greeted Vortigern who met him at the coasts off the land with the cliffs to his back. The former had received the invitation to return to the land.

“Come forth, Hengist.” That was the message conveyed by the daughter on behalf of the Lord. Hengist arrived but caution made him sail with the ship loaded with warriors.

“I see you look well for one who was defeated by a young cub.” Vortigern sneered back.

“Sadly he died before we can meet in battle.” Hengist roared. “We are warriors and death to us will be the fatal blow to the heart, and not dying on the bedding.”

“Aye, the young cub had passed on.” Vortigern looked to the other. “Vortimer was no real King.”

“You are the King, Vortigern. I had known that for a long time.” Hengist praised the Lord. “So, tell me. How is my daughter? Have you any child with her?”

“Nay, we have none to call ours,” Vortigern replied.

“You poor sod. I need to teach you some lessons of mine.” Hengist looked behind the Lord to the cliffs there. “Are you alone this time, Vortigern?”

“I am. I have my army but they are scattered. I have called on you once more to be my mercenaries. I hear the Picts and Danes are sharpening their blades.”

“I will be forthcoming that my clans do not have faith in you anymore. We came in your last call of need and ended up with our backs to the sea. We barely escaped with our families.” Hengist laid it out plainly to the other.

“I heard otherwise.” Vortigern looked at the other. “I have my scouts on the lookout. You massed a huge army there; close to three hundred thousand. Are you challenging the Romans or perhaps the other Gauls?” Vortigern challenged back. “Britons are still strong in the numbers and if you land on our land again, we will unit against your army.”

“Allay your threats to one who may have fear of you, but I am not of that.” Hengist looked to the cliffs once more. “You need not hide the archers there. I have not invaded you.”

“Hengist, we are linked in relation. I will tell you again. I want your army as my mercenaries. If you say nay, then our discussion is over.” Vortigern waited for the reply from the other but Hengist had taken to the ship. He knew then that the Anglo-Saxons will not aid him in claiming the throne.

“It seems that your mercenaries disliked your wealth.” Lord Cornell had ridden to approach the other.

“It would seem that way, Lord Cornell. There will be war and it's time to tell the other Lords. They are to determine their fate. Be with us or fight their own.”  Vortigern was upset that Anglo-Saxons had refused his offer. He needs to find other allies to protect the land.

Both the Lords returned to their castle watched by Hengist.

“Vortigern does not trust you despite the years we had known him.” Horsa stood next to Hengist.

“We are allies and to some, the word relations may be accepted, but the conquest of the land makes us rivals.” Hengist voiced out. :” Our task here is done. Now we return to battle our own with the chiefs. How many will be with us in the coming battles?’”

The decisions were different at the castle where Rowena had taken charge of the servants. She had taken conference with the heads of the castle there.

“Lady Conte, please have the King’s chamber cleaned. It will be open to daily airing and kept clean for the duration.” Rowena looked from the matronly figure to the head of the kitchens. “I expect the larders to be filled with the food that my Lord liked.”

“Old Albert, get rid of the plagues that held the King’s image. And also remove the weasel that attends to the King then. He is not to be seen in the castle. Make sure before he leaves the castle, checks his belongings. I want nothing of any value to be with him. He is a thief.”

“And for the sake of mine, remove those lilacs from the hall. I can’t have them all around me like a garland for the dead.”

No one dares to challenge the lady who was once the Queen.

That was not with the two princes in exile.

“Uther, we must meet the other Lords. They are our aides to fight Vortigern.” Aurelius was stooping over the parchments that he had written to be handed by messengers to the Lords. “Where is my seal?”

“It’s on the flooring. You dropped it there.” Uther was by the opening at the wall. He was looking in the direction of the land that was their brother’s.

“Who killed Constan? Was it the Picts or Vortigern?” Uther voiced out. “Or was it Lord Cornell as rumored by some?”

“Does it matter now, Uther. We will sort it out once we are back.” Aurelius took the wax to be heated. It was a slow process for ensuring the wax surface was evenly heated to lay a mark on the parchment. The seal will be imprinted on the wax when it was dripped on the parchment to seal it. The seal marking will serve two purposes; one is to denote the sender of the message and the other was if the seal was broken before it was opened by the receiver, then that message was read by others.

“How many seasons have we spent here? I counted more of the winter's offerings that I am beginning to feel like the old tree that was planted at the hall at the celebration. Are we ornamental like the trinkets that were hung there?” Uther raised his arms. “Here, they are. The young princes once again to be seen us.”

“Hush it, Uther. I am making plans to return home.” Aurelius brushed off the words of his younger brother.

“Why don’t we ride in now? We have an army to impress the Lords. We can pick up more warriors on the trail.” Uther pressed on. “I am not one to wait. Whatever I want, I will get.”

“Arrogance, my brother. What you have is mere numbers compared to Lord  Cornell or Vortigern. You said to get the extra numbers but how many Lords have sworn allegiance to you? Please be patient. Let me plan the strategy. We will win back our land.”  Aurelius then packed up the messages before he left for the meeting place with one that he desired to meet.

“Druid, I need …”

 “Your answers will soon arrive. I have been to the land and saw for myself the upheaval of the Lords. They are without a King now, and Vortigern is looking to be one again.” The druid told Aurelius. “You must gather your strength for the time to return may be soon.”

“I am, druid. The messages are sent out and Uther is recruiting more into the army.” Aurelius spoke highly of his brother. “He is the lion …”

“No, you are the lion while he is …. The dragon.”

“Dragon? The dragon was described as the serpent of all evil; numerous stories portray the dragon as the bearer of evil, death, and misfortune. They have not existed for generations.” Aurelius voiced out. “I doubt Uther is a dragon. A bear perhaps.”

“Regardless, young Aurelius, Proceed with your planning. You will be King soon.” The druid looked at Aurelius. “Both of you hold the King’s blood.”

“Yes, we are of the Kings,” Aurelius called out and then took his leave. The druid stood there looking and then turned away.

“A list of Kings and none as yer will the King of Kings.” The druid named Merling muttered.

 

 

Chronicles of the Brittany Kings Chapter 33

 33

Lord Cornell paced the corridor of the castle awaiting the outcome of the healer’s report on Vortimer’s health. The latter had taken ill some weeks back, and the latest was that he was bedridden. He had suspected poisoning but there was no conclusive evidence of who could have done it. Vortigern was the usual suspect with his lover, but it was not proven. The King’s servants were questioned and some tortured but none had any part in it.

“How fares the King?” Lord Cornell met the healer who was leaving the King’s chamber.

“Nothing new, my Lord. He is still in the throes of pain and his mind is unclear.” The healer told the Lord. “I had bled him of the disease blood but his body still go into spasms.”

Lord Cornell dismissed the healer and made his way to the hall. He was met by the other Lords who awaited the news about the King. The numbers have dwindled upon the King’s sickness. It would seem that the loyalty of the Lords was in doubt then.

“How does he fares?” Lord Ian asked.

“Nothing new. He still lives.” Lord Cornell replied and then asked about the conditions at the borders.

“The barbarians are rumored to sail to our land. The scouts reported on the building of new ships with many of the warriors congregating there at the nearby villages.”

“Scavengers! Who leads them?” Lord Cornell was upset.

“We heard that it was Hengist.” The name uttered was feared by many among the Lords. “He is with Horsa, who had returned from the sight of death.”

“What is their strength?” Lord Cornell asked.

“We are unsure. Some scouts reported in the thousands, but we estimated about twenty thousand now.”

“A mere number for now.” Lord Cornell looked to the corridor toward the King’s chamber. “That number could grow faster. We need to prepare ourselves.”

“Lord Cornell, we have another concern.” Lord Ian approached the other.”Vortigern has been busy of late. With the King dying, he has to travel beyond the castle to meet the other Lords. I heard that …”

“How was he to leave the castle? He …” Lord Cornell burst out in anger.

“Hold your anger, Lord Cornell. Vortigern is still a Lord and none of the guards dares to question him.”

“I will see to that.” Lord Cornell was to look for the errant Lord but that figure had appeared before him then.

“Lord Cornell, we are to talk.” It was the invitation of Lord Vortigern. “In private.”

Later in the confines of the chamber, both Lords stood there facing each other. The chamber was used for the King’s guests to stay over.

“Speak, Lord Vortigern. I am a busy person.” Lord Cornell glared at the other. “We have …”

”We have much to offer but if we stay divisive, we will perish like the King.” Vortigern cut in. “Our the previous one like Vortimer. I know your position is under siege by the other Lords. They have remained defiant of Vortimer, and with the passing of the pretender, they drew their swords on you now.”

“I was once like you, Lord Cornell, and fell into the abyss of Hell,” Vortigern added.

“I did not become King.” Lord Cornell voiced out. “I did not invite the barbarians to the gates.”

“Britons are at odds since the death of King Constantine. His son was not a King but a saint. I was the devil that usurp the saint for there was a need for a devil to quell the urges of all the Lords.”

“You speak of your achievements as if it was to be garlanded over your neck.” Lord Cornell turned to leave.

“Turn your back on me and prepare to be killed. Or work with me to restore the kingdom.” Vortigern spoke out. Lord Cornell held back his steps then.

“We are still the strongest in the numbers, and when united we can stand to any Lords that will challenge us. I have my Lords and you have yours. Let us unite and fight those who are not with us.” Vortigern spoke out his terms. “Let us be friends once more.”

 

 

At the friendlier borders of the land, King Aldrian was seated with the two princes. The two have grown well under the care of the King. Both princes have served with the King’s army and shown great improvement in their fighting.

“Vortimer is dying as told to me by the scouts.: King Aldrian looked to the young princes. “It may be time for you to return but you must prepare to return with an army backing your claims.”

“King Aldrian, I can ride with the columns that you assigned to me.” Uther was ever keen to return.

“You are not ready, young Uther. Your army raised by myself for you stands at only five thousand whilst the weakest Lord may have the equal or more than you. And it's not one Lord you will face but many more. Their loyalty is unknown.”

“We are the siblings of King Constan.” Uther pressed on but Aurelius stopped him.

“King Aldrian is right. We need to do our scouting with the Lords that may assist us. If we return, we must have a sizeable army. I will …”

“Consult the stars again, Aurelius. I am tired of your studies of the stars with the druid. Grow up, my brother.” Uther spoke to his brother. “We cannot be always wishing upon the stars.”

“Uther, I …” Aurelius was stopped by the King then.

“Silence both of you. Do the needed to get the army you will need. Or stay here and don’t return.” King Aldrian dismissed the two princes. He then proceeded to the adjacent chamber. There was a figure seated there, dressed in the rich cloth of the house of God.

“Your Holiness, have you rested well?” King Aldrian greeted the Bishop of Auxerre. The figure looked at the King and smiled.

“My weary bones are not used to the sea travels now but I have recovered enough.” The Bishop of Auxerre then asked of the young princes.

“Are they the ones whose brother was King? The children of King Constantine?”

“Yes, your Holiness. They are named Aurelius and Uther.” King Aldrian replied. ”Both are in exile here after the death of King Constan.”

“God have mercy on the soul on the passing of the King. He was a great King, once told to me by the visiting emissaries of the house. He invites them well and gave them food and shelter. I was told the barbarians killed him.”

“Picts, your Holiness.” King Aldrian explained.

“Picts, or Gauls? Whatever,” The Bishop of Auxerre scorns at the mention. “They are pagan demons. I have dealt with them before. They can be defeated by praying, singing hallelujah, and by the cries of the army of God, the enemies were routed, and driven even to the sea.”

“I believe so, you Holiness.” King Aldrian bowed his head listening to the words of the Bishop of Auxerre, “God is great.”

“Cynism is below you, King Aldrian. Behold the might of God’s army when the barbarians are driven away.” The Bishop of Auxerre then stood up. “I need to attend to my body's needs. Your food may not be agreeing with my digestion.”

King Aldrian bowed to the departing Bishop of Auxerre on his way to the chamber.

“One man’s food is another man’s poison.” King Aldrian muttered to himself.

 

Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act 1 Scene 2 Subscene 2

 Act One Scene Two

Sub-Scene Two

The Wedding Speech

“Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death, the memory be green, and that is that befitted to bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom.” The guests sat in the assigned seats with their focus on the one who speaking at his wedding that afternoon. The speaker has changed from the dark tuxedo into a white one with the red rose pinned to the upper pocket of the jacket.

‘To be contracted in one brow of woe, yet so far hath discretion fought with nature, that we with wisest sorrow think on him,” The speaker raised his right hand to the portrait of the King that was brought there on the standing pedestal.

“He stands by me here. And together with the remembrance of ourselves, therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, the imperial jointress to this warlike state. Have we, as ’twere with a defeated joy,– with an auspicious and a dropping eye, with mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, in equal scale weighing delight and dole,–
Taken to wife: nor have we herein barred your better pearls of wisdom, which have freely gone with this affair along.”

“Is he drunk?” A guest whispered to his wife. “I can hardly make out his meaning.”

“Drink your sherry, my dear. It will do you better.”

“For all, our thanks. We will hold both today.  A departure and a welcome on the same day.” The speaker smiled. “Your graceful thanks are appreciated. We grief and now wed with joy.”

“I think he is. Are we respecting the dead or the wedded?” The couple was hushed by the nearby who were seated.

“You won’t marry again if I die?” The old man looked to his lover of forty-five years and was still in doubt.

“I wouldn’t know. Dave died last year, and so was Barry. So, I guess not.” The wife was hushed again. The speech continued.

“Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, holding a weak supposal of our worth,” The speech took a new direction.

“Who is that Fortinbras? Another lover?” One elderly asked.

“Or thinking by our late dear brother’s death our state to be disjoint and out of frame, colleagued with the dream of his advantage, he hath not failed to pester us with the message, importing the surrender of those lands lost by his father, with all bonds of law, to our most valiant brother.”

There was silence among the invited.

“So much for him. He is mistaken. Now for ourselves and for this time of meeting: Thus much the business is: we have here writ. To the other King named sake of Norway, father of young Fortinbras,– Who lies impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears of this his son’s purpose,–to suppress his further gait herein; in that the levies; the lists and full proportions are all made. Out of his subject: and we here dispatch…” The speaker paused and then look at the two loyal aides of his brother.

“You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, forbearers of this greeting to old Norway; giving to you no further personal power to business with the king, more than the scope of these delated articles allow. Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. Show your fortitude to their unwarranted demands.”

“Are we to have lunch now?” Another guest muttered.

“I guess not.” The one seated replied. It was then the two loyal aides of the King, stood up.

“In that and all things will we show our duty.” Both the gentlemen took leave of the Hall.

“For all the talk to get them to leave. Wouldn’t a get-out will do?” Another grumpy elderly voice out. “A finale that drew out to unnecessary dialogues when a stab in the chest will suffice.”

“Shall we feast now?” The speaker then called on the meals to be served. “I am sure you are all hungry by now.”

“Finally. Enough of the dead.” The hungry guest smiled. “What are we having?

“Farikal; lamb cabbage and potatoes.”

“What? No stuffed pheasants? The King would have not served that.”

“The King is no more. It’s the Emperor now.”

“What are they doing now?”

“I heard they are setting up a projector. They are going to play a movie with sounds? Something new in the scene. No more slapsticks and scoreboards on the words.”

‘What is the play? Another stag show?”

“Julius Caesar with the King in it. The memorable scene when Brutus killed the King in it.”

“You mean the Emperor?’

“Yes …. And no. It was the King that died in the scene.  And yes, he was the Emperor then. You are confusing me. It was the King that died.”

“Such was his portrayal that the King was seen in the scene.” Another voice interrupted the conversation. “Ladies, please enjoy the lunch here. You are making a muddle of the actors.”

“Who are you?”

“Horatio, a servant of the late King.” The burly figure replied. “A very devoted servant.”

 

Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act 1 Scene 2 Subscene 1

 Act One Scene Two

Sub-Scene One

The Homecoming

It was the afternoon of the previous night that Horation was to meet the ghost. When he had returned to his quarters, he found the servants in rush to do their chores. He asked the one that passed him by.

“What ails the castle today?” Horatio had asked.

“The King is to be buried. His son Hamlet is finally here.”

“The King to be …” Horatio was stunned. He had known that the widow of the King had declared that the King will remain in the Hall till the return of the son. It had been some weeks and despite the constant news send to the young Prince, young Hamlet had refused to return. His excuse was he needed to complete his commitment to plays paid for by his audience.

“Father had said that none may stop the shows even its only one audience will remain to watch it.” Such was the commitment of Hamlet’s; duty above personal needs. The news of his ongoing commitment drove the headlines; ‘duty before self’.

Some were of a differing note; “where does Prince grief? In his play or his heart?”

Others spoke of his denial; ‘the Prince denies his father’s last wish’.

One was crude; the Prince dares not face the King for he was unworthy of the rank

Finally, Prince Hamlet returns home to Castle Elsinore, after having left it for years to go to study and then pursue his career’ A shadow or the peer of the King; finally unveiled now.

The funeral was quick and simple. The hearse wagon was brought to the family plot on the estate; three plots were planned and only one that day was to be used. It was marked ‘Father’, while next to the right was ‘Mother’ and the one on the left ‘Unnamed’

The attendees were the widow, the brother of the King, Emperor Claudius; famed like Hamlet but ever in the shadow of the other. There were several guests; the Chamberlain of Denmark as his rank called off; Polonius Gaus, the Manager of the King on all his theaters alongside the son; Laertes who was there for another reason. There were also the two others; Cornelius and Voltiman, personal aides of the departed King.

The widow of the King; Gertrude sat by herself under the cherry tree a short distance away watching the final moments of the King.

The priest did the last rites and upon saying ashes to ashes, the coffin was lowered to the ground.

“You could say a word to your father, Hamlet. He loves you.” Gertrude turned to the rear to look at her son. Hamlet had returned that morning to the rare crow of the rooster driving himself in the steam drove the four-wheel vehicle right up to the castle's rear entrance choosing to make his entry by the servant’s gate. He had marched into the hall and took one look at his father before he roused the servants to prepare breakfast and also to call the priest.

“My Prince, today is the day of the marriage of your mother to the Emperor. A feast has been called for.”

“Bury my father then we will celebrate her consummation with the Emperor.” Prince Hamlet called out to the servant. His shouts were heard by the widow who had heard the last remark by her son.

“Oh, hello Mother. We will bury father this morning and then you can wed in the evening.” Prince Hamlet bowed to his mother. “I do love you.”

With that, the Prince took to his chamber long untouched but dusted by the servant.

“Wake me at ten when the priest arrived.” That was all Hamlet had spoken since his return.

“Hamlet, do look at the funeral.” Hamlet had turned his back on the funeral. He was picking at the petals of the lilac flowers.

“He loves me yes. He loves me not. He hates me yes.” Hamlet dropped the last petal before he reached for another flower.

“Hamlet!” The younger man heard the lady. He then replied to her.

“Does it matter if I see him again? I have been away for over two decades, and not a word from him until his aides came to see me on his demise.” Hamlet said. “Do I cry or have my tears dried up some years back?”

“Your father loved you.” Gertrude voiced out to her son. “He …”

“He loved you too, Mother.” The Prince cut in. “I know he did.”

“Yes, he did. Your father wanted the best for you. He sent you to Wittenberg to be with the best…” Gertrude explained the father’s ambition in the son. “It was the best of the finest.”

“Was it, Mother?” The Prince asked. “I was five then.”

“Yes, my son. Yes, It’s the truth. Do not despair on your father.”

“I will not, Mother. It's not me you need to concern about.” The Prince then proceed to the castle. “See you at the wedding. Don’t cry, please. I won’t.”

 

Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act I Scene 2 Interlude

 Act One Scene Two

Interlude

The luncheon

The hall was different in the décor that afternoon. Once the coffin was removed, the servants trooped in with the flowers on the stands and having placed them by the sides, while others brought in the tables and chairs to be set up for the coming luncheon affair.

“Do you know why they have chairs with the cloth over them?” The new staff asked

“If you are going to drip in between your legs, at least it can soil the cloth and not the chairs.” The older staff replied. “They are horny old men here, and they get busy during the cabaret dances.”

“Please open the windows. The dead scent needs clearing here.” The windows were opened the scented bottles were brought in to give the hall a pleasant atmosphere. The tables were set with silverware and the bottles of the finest wine were set on them.

The playing musical band soon filtered in and took their place at the right corner where a small stage was set up. The five-piece musical band then strummed their sets and the tune was set for the musical sounds of jazz whined out.

“Please stop. It’s a luncheon. Not an evening dance.” The servant overseeing the music scores called out. “Try the Charleston pieces. The place needs some life to it.”

“Charles, blow life into that trumpet as if it was when Chris was around. It sounded like hearse music.” That was different in the kitchen filled with the extra help and the argument then was over the menu.

“No stuffing please.” The Master Chef called out to the assembled. “The Emperor wants the Norwegian finest only. Lambs and bread and vegetables.”

“Pheasants?”

“No, please. The King is dead, and so there go the pheasants from the menu. Dead ok?”

“Whoever eats lamb?”

“Please listen. It's lamb and only lamb. No poultry or river fish. No …”

“Caviar?”

“Yes…That one is okay. Let me taste it before you serve it. The Emperor held a preference on the serving.”

“No live oyster? No ratatouilles?” The French Sous Chef asked after perusing the menu. “I am offended. The King liked my sauce.”

“No, please. Nothing living, please. They preferred them dead.” Another chef cut in. “And nothing rare. The Lady does not like bloody slices.”

“Yes, all dead please.” The chefs all took off to their tasks.

“I thought they will never stop talking.” The lady servant held the cleaver high over her shoulder before she brought it down to cut the cabbage into two parts.

“Henri did not do a lick on yours’ last session.” The other servant smiled when she saw the cleaver go into the series of chops.

“The Froggie left me there with the spread of my cramped legs after a few rounds. If I had known, I would have stuck myself over on the King’s stiff. It would have lasted longer.”

“I am sure you would.” The servant laughed. “So are we having a wedding or a wake?’

“I wouldn’t know. My wedding was not a wake to anything new. It was all over a in flash and my midriff bloated for months. And after six urns’, never needed to feel any after that.”

“Did you see the large cucumber I brought over?” Another servant cut in.

“Sitting on it.” The servant with the clever replied. “It’s the next best stiff I can find.”

“Get alive, ladies. We got a luncheon on.” The Master Chef interrupted the ladies. “Don’t die on me.”

“If only you did not have them in the last session.” The lady servant muttered.”Darn! My legs are cramped and dead now. Being seated too long. Someone pulled the cucumber there. I can’t reach it.”

Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act 1 Subscene 6

 Act One Scene One

Sub-Scene Six

The ghost returns

Horatio saw the ghost apparition float around but never came near to the.

“Wait, look! It has come again. I’ll meet it if it’s the last thing I do. —Stay here, you hallucination!” Horatio called out. The ghost spreads its arms and looked to the sky.

“If you have a voice or can make sounds, speak to me ….  My king.” Horatio bowed to the ghost. “I will do your bidding.”

“Horatio, you are…” Marcellus cut in.

“If there’s any good deed I can do that will bring you peace and my honor, speak to me. If you have some secret knowledge of your country’s sad fate—which might be avoided if we knew about it—then, please, speak.” Horatio would not look up. “Or if you’ve got some buried treasure somewhere, which they say often makes ghosts restless, then tell us about it. Stay and speak!”

It was then the crow of the rooster resonated into the night.

“Is it dawn now?” Barnados asked. He looked at his watch, it was only an hour that passed since he met the other two. “The rooster…”

“Keep it from leaving, Marcellus.” Horatio looked at the surrounding. He has not heard of the rooster crows before in Denmark. It's madness that one even crows then.

“Should I …grab it?” Marcellus called out.

“Yes, if it decides to leave. I will find the rooster and silence it.” Horatio replied.

 “It’s gone,” Barnados called out. “It leaves.”

“It’s gone. We were wrong to threaten it with …. violence since it looks so much like a king. Besides, we can’t hurt it any more than we can hurt the air. Our attack was stupid, futile, and wicked.” Marcellus cursed at himself. "Now the King may not forgive me.”

“It was to speak when the rooster crowed.” Barnados told Horatio. “Do we even have a rooster?”

“Do even ghosts exist?” Horatio shook his head in confusion. “And then it acted startled, like a guilty person caught by the law. I’ve heard that the rooster awakens the god of the day with its trumpetlike crowing, and makes all wandering ghosts, wherever they are, hurry back to their hiding places. We’ve just seen proof of that.”

“It’s not dawn as yet. My watch says nay.” Barnados lament while extending his left arm.

“The ghost did fade on the call of the rooster,” Marcellus said.

“Yes, I’ve heard the same thing and sort of believe it. But look, morning is breaking beyond that hill in the east, turning the sky red. Let’s interrupt our watch and go tell young Hamlet what we’ve seen tonight. I’m sure this ghost that’s so silent with us will speak to him. Don’t you agree that we owe it to him to tell him about this, out of duty and love?” Horatio motioned to the treelines. The morning sun was seen to climb above the tree lines.

Barnados placed the watch over his left ear to hear its mechanism. It was still working but the sight of dawn was also real.

“The ghost is gone. Let us get into our new day now.” Horatio said. “Much ado about …nothing.”

The sounds of footsteps told them of the change of guards.

 

 

Chronicles of the Brittany Kings Chapter 32

 32

“May I ask why did the duck take to the water?” It was a rhetorical question. Vortimer looked at Gildas when he asked the question. They were in the prayer session then.

“Well, it's their nature to do so. They like the water and their webbing feet paddle well there.” Gildas replied, and then looked at the other. 

“Why do you ask?” Gildas was curious.

“Nothing to be concerned about. I was just curious.” Vortimer replied. His mind drifted back to his avoidance of the lady named Rowena. He had seen her in the castle but chose to avoid talking to her. For once in his lifetime, he was afraid.

“Why should I be afraid of her?” Vortimer had questioned himself, but he could find the answer. He spends his time with the Lords on the situation on the land.

“The Amoricans have crossed back to their land. The Anglo-Saxons have left with remnants of those here hunted by our army.” Lord Cornell reported to the new King. “We faced no reprisals from the Danes or the Picts.”

Vortimer breathed in a sigh of relief with those words. He felt then for once the Kingdom was secured. He was to speak when he saw the arrival of Vortigern and his lady.

“May I approach, King Vortimer?” Vortigern asked. Vortimer nodded to the request.

“I was advised that you have repelled all the raiders and barbarians. You have done more than what I had done.” Vortigern smiled at the other. “Your Lords are obliging.”

“Speak quick, Vortigerm. We are in conference here.” Lord Cornell looked at the other. “We have …”

“No time to be wasted? I can see that in the discussion.” Vortigern cut in before he looked at Vortimer. “I am here to offer you a feast as King.”

“I am not with huge wealth, but enough to host a feast. The portion of it will be sufficient to cover the food and drinks. May I use your hall for that?” Vortigern asked. “I am …without one as huge as this.”

Cynism was in the tone of the defeated King, but what was distracting was Vortimer’s stare at the lady standing behind Vortigern.

“My King, this is our hall and shall not…” Lord Cornell objected but Vortimer held up his hand to silence the Lord.

“We will hold the feast here.” Vortimer agreed to it, watching the lady smile at him. “It will be done the day after tomorrow.”

Lord Vortigern and his lady left the hall with Lord Cornell seething with anger, The Lord asked Vortimer about his decision.

“Are we to allow  Vortigern to host the feast here? Were his guests to attend? Anglo-Saxons? Picts perhaps? The last time the Picts were here, they killed the King.”

“Enough, Lord Cornell!” Vortimer for the first time as King raised his voice to the Lord. “I have decided.”

A wise decision it was when Vortigern requested the feast, for he was keen to mend the relationship with Vortimer. Ever since his abdication from the throne, Vortigern was quietly building up his allies. He started with the Lords, not in the favor of the new King. He met them singularly on many pretexts of issues to discuss or to share a feast, or drink. He was elusive to bring up the matter of the old alliance and then gauge their willingness to side with him. Some Lords were obligatory while some were coaxed into it by preserving their borders from raiders.

“The Picts held me still in their favor,” Vortigern assured the nervous Lords. “The Anglo-Saxons are my blood relatives now.”

Vortigern pushed forth his lady to appease the Lords; “We are a family.”

“What of the Amoricans? The young princes?” Vortigern was queried by one whom he met.

“Did they come? Who was it? Aurelius or the youngest Uther? I heard they did and pursue the Anglo-Saxons to the coasts but they did not engage in any battles. It was all a show of … influence? The young cubs with their new fangs think they are ready to take back their land from Vortimer. I doubt so. They have retreated to their own.” Vortigern used his words to ridicule the young princes. “They are without their father’s courage.”

“They have no assistance of Lord Cornell.” Lady Rowena added in. The mention of Lord Cornell’s name angered the other Lords who felt that Lord Cornell had taken to the new King’s side as his adviser and thus subdue their influence in the hall. Emotions of rage mixed with the free flow of meads and intoxicated by the scents of the lady, the discussion soon turned to favor Vortigern.

“I believe to have snared another Lord to my cause,” Vortigern whispered to his lady soon after the discussion with the lord ended. “Lord Bannion will be with me.”

“Do I detect selfishness in you, love? I have done my part too.” Rowena retorted to the other. “All of you men are the same. Only the works of yours matter.”

“Nay, my love. I treasured your charms too.” Vortigern looked to his younger lover. “Your scent is intoxicating.”

Intoxicating was the works of the scent prepared for Rowena by her servants. She recalled during her younger days the works of the scents will work in their favor.

“We held nothing with us except the alluring heavenly body to entice men.” The elderly lady had coached her when young. “You must learn other skills.”

Rowena was taught the art of healing which included making potions for various ailments.

“Nothing needs healing unless it’s sick. If need to get someone sick, you need to learn how to make potions of poison. Some potions may kill immediately or over some time. The signs of poisoning could be from irritation in the body to bursting sores or chronic ailments.  The most crucial part of the lesson was to avoid the poisoned person knowing it was from you.”

“Everywhere we may be, there are elements of herbs or creature droppings that we can use.” Rowena learned then the items which she can use. Some were given to her by loyal servants like the deadly mushroom.

The feast soon came to the hall, and the gathered were all gaily celebrating the occasion. Rowena was doing her role then as hostess to greet the guests that were in favor of her.

“Drinc heil!” That call resonated in the hall which amused the Voritmer so that he asked Vortigern what it meant.

“I heard of it but hardly knows its true words.”

“It meant drink till you die, Vortimer.” Vortigern told the other. “Rejoice.”

 

Chronicles of the Brittany Kings Chapter 31

 31

Vortimer forced his way pushing aside the chamber’s door to enter Vortigern’s chamber. He stormed in looking for the Lord and found himself facing the lady instead.

“How dare you?” Rowena was half-dressed after having taken her bath. Her upper body was exposed then and took covers with her right arm.

“I am improper now.” Rowena glared at the other. Vortimer would have apologized for his rudeness but at that moment besides being in rage in his emotions, he knew himself to be the King.

“This is my castle, harlot. No one tells me where,” Vortimer stared at the lady. He felt the urge of his loins then for Rowena was half the age of the Lord who wedded her. “And when am I to step in.”

“Where is Vortigern?” Vortimer stood there staring at the lady.

“He is at the yard outside with servants,” Rowena replied. “Mayu I dress now, my King?”

“Uh, yes. You may. Do not shame yourself by displaying your body.” Vortimer replied but he did not move away. Rowena saw him standing there and ignoring his stares, she continued her dressing. She took her time covering her shoulders and then pulling the sleeves to cover her arms. She then adjusted the bodice to cover her bosom and then turned to the King.

“Do assist me in binding the laces there.” Rowena turned her back to Vortimer. “I am without my servant here.”

No one could challenge the wants of the nymph when the loins pursued the mind on the matter. Vortimer mesmerized by the beauty stepped forth and with his clumsy finger, he held the laces. The material was soft then felt by his callous skin, and it was the intoxicating smell of the lady fresh from her bath that enticed his mind.

“Not too tight, my King.” Rowena voiced out then. “I do have to breathe.”

“I am sorry”, Vortimer apologized to the lady.

“Do you get to do this before?” Rowena asked casually. “Perhaps your mother or lover?”

Vortimer fiddling stops then. He had hardly met his mother who was a servant to one of the Lords. She never dressed in front of him. He had also never undressed any ladies in his youth, for he was busy claiming his right as the son and then the kingdom.

“Have you loved any lady?” The question stung at Vortimer’s ears. He stepped back and excused himself. Rowena stood there with her bodice half done but to her, her mind was done.

“Young Vortimer, you will be mine,” Rowena muttered to herself. “Or die by mine.”

It was then Vortigern arrived and saw Rowena standing there with her laces still undone. He approached her and asked.

“Was the bastard of mine here?” Vortigern took to the laces which he deftly secured for Rowena.

“He was looking for you.” Rowena stepped to the dresser to adjust her hair.

“He passed me in the corridor without a word.” Vortigern saw the bathtub. “Did he harm you?”

“Harm me? Was I ravished by him? I doubt it for I am still dressed.” Rowena looked at the man she had seduced. “Do you take me a harlot who will disrobe for any man?”.

“I did not…” Vortigern tried to explain his words, but the lady had taken on the lead.

“Perhaps you could show me how a man disrobes a lady?” Vortigern was left with no option then.

As for the confused Vortimer, he had wandered to his chamber. He saw the lady servants attending to his bath. They had filled the bathtub with the scents.

“My King, your bath is almost ready. Once the water is hot, we will add to the bathtub to heat it up.” The ladies stood there. “May we assist you?”

“No, there is no such need. I am fine by myself.” Vortimer dismissed the ladies. They left and were met by the monk who was stepping in.

“Vixens, all of them, I can’t stand them,” Gildas spoke out with his grumpy tone.  

“What ails you, Gildas?

“Nothing that will disrupt your works, my King. Those vixens eye you for their place as Queen. Harlots they are, for they think their legs spread will entice you.” The monk arranged the scrolls that needed his attention as King.

Vortimer took his seat and grabbed the goblet to quell his parched throat.

“What ails you, my King?” Gildas asked.

“I am… do tell, Gildas. What is… never mind. Do leave me now. I need to rest.” Vortimer dismissed the monk. He sat there with his mind on the ladies. None enticed him as the lady who was with Vortigern.

“Why her?” Vortimer asked. He was confused. Since his budding youth, he had found it difficult to address the needs of his body. He had spent his days with the other warriors in training and thereafter in battles. There were occasions when the men will take to the sessions of drinking and whoring but somehow Vortimer stopped at the latter. He had abstained from that and asked a priest once.

“Abdication is not a vice, my son. There are many things to do in life that are worthy.” Vortimer took it to heart.

“Let me be at peace.” Vortimer sighed but his mind reeled back to when the lady he had seen in a new light. He then approached the bathtub and sat in the cold water. It worked most times for him.

“I must be King.” Vortimer focuses on his vision. “Nothing else matters except that duty.”

Upon having done her duty, Rowena rolled over before she sat up. She pulled at her clothes; her lover was ever impatient and she did not mind it. She was told from a young age, the men will wield the sword to thrust while the womenfolk held the shield to take the blows.

“If you learn well how to shield yourself, you won’t be hurt.” Rowena was not hurt by her union with a man twice her age, for she knew that she held him in her grasp. She turned to look at her lover.

“Tell me of Vortimer?” In her mind, were the ways she could grasp the younger man to her needs.

 

 

Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act 1 Subscene 5

 Act One Scene One

Sub-Scene Five

The King

“I can.” Horatio remarked. “I served him the longest among all of you.”

“Or at least I can describe the events.” Horatio paused to find the better of words to describe what he may know.

“As you know, our late King,” The one who died was named King Hamlet of Elsinore Castle, of Denmark. He considered his estate his land or kingdom and lived a life of recluse unless he was to appear on stage to appease his audience with another spectacular act of the imaginary character from King Lear to Julius Ceasar, or even to the myth standing Moses receiving the Ten Commandments. Each performance was said to be better than the previous, and none could claim to meet his fame; as his critics worded it; “it was heavenly’.

Well, not true for even the King has his rivals.

One was Fortinbras, the King of Other Norway, as his fief was said to be the circle of stages that he performed on. Fortinbras dared him to battle.

“Challenge me, Hamlet in my ring of stages. I will await thee.”  In that fight, our courageous Hamlet (or at least that’s how we thought of him) killed old King Fortinbras of Other Norway of his fame, who based on a valid legal document surrendered all his territories, with his life spared but bedridden, to his conqueror. If King Hamlet had lost, he would have had to do the same but the legal document denied by the other King was upheld as true.

“Even frauds can be genuine, such is the act of the King.” The critics called the verdict, but soon the critics were silenced to their accusations.

“The true Kings reign.” But the old feud did not die. The Fortinbras’ young son also called Fortinbras—he is bold but unproven—has gathered a bunch of thugs from the lawless outskirts of the country. For some food, they’re eager to take on the tough enterprise of securing the stages the elder Fortinbras lost. Where the legality process was exhausted, the illegal took action.

The war erupted the ambush on the icy road and the brazen attacks on the King on his land, the King was not without his followers of the violence.

“This is the war to end all wars.” King Hamlet quoted Woodrow Wilson (1917) on the Great War then. It made the headlines but the body counts did not.

“Only the dead have seen the end of the war. Our mama did make me read. ” Marcellus voiced out much to the surprise of the other two other. “Hey, I read it somewhere.”

“I think that’s exactly right—that explains why the ghost of the late king would haunt us now since he caused these wars,” Barnados added. “The King was not a forgettable man but a forgivable man at times. Amen.”

“The ghost is something to worry about,” Horatio spoke out. “In the high and mighty Roman Empire, just before Emperor Julius Caesar was assassinated, corpses rose out of their graves and ran through the streets of Rome speaking gibberish. There were shooting stars, blood mixed in with the morning dew, and threatening signs on the face of the sun. The moon, which controls the tides of the sea, was so eclipsed it almost went completely out. And we’ve had similar omens of terrible things to come as if heaven and earth have joined together to warn us what’s going to happen.”

“You were where there during the rehearsals of that play. The King was said to be possessed by the ghost of the character. The actors shrieked at his expression and outbursts.” Marcellus smiled. “I was there that day. It was his performance that brought the house to its feet.”

“Don’t move. The ghost arrived again.” Horatio called out.