Monday, January 16, 2023

Hamlet; the Noir Adaption 2023 Act 1 Subscene 1

 Act One Scene One

Sub-Scene One

The meetings of the Guards.

Bernardo covered in the thick heavy three-piece suit was taking small steps while he guarded the wide long walls of the huge twenty-four rooms mansion that was named Elsinore Castle. It was the only castle in the area, among the hugely princely-designed manors but none rivaled the castle for its eccentric design.

It was designed with a huge castle appearance with eight high towers that overlooked the tall walls of the mansion. The main gate to the so-named castle was the drawbridge over the dug-out moat that ringed the castle's outer walls. Once you passed the main gates, there was the huge courtyard with huge tracts of landscape with blooms and shrubs that a dozen gardeners needed to prune daily. The driveway to the inner castle building went around it the oblong shape and there was the main building with the H-shaped layout; with its main west and east wings facing the driveway, and there were the personal wings of the owners. The H-shaped designed personal abode of the castle held eight high glass doors facing the courtyard and the inner doorways were double doors.

It would not have been called a castle without the grand hall, which was there in the middle of the H design but the difference was instead of a throne there was a huge stage place set there with heavy curtains that were drawn close unless there was a commanding event to be played.

On that evening, the event was the laying of the coffin of its owner, King Hamlet; the famous playwright, actor, director, and producer. The ‘King’ lies there in the oak coffin, alone in the grand hall. There was no garland of flowers lined there; they were told to leave it at the moat, or be darned if they are allowed in. The earlier guests were brought in by the steam-driven cart and given the scant glance of the dead King in his coffin before they were chauffeured off to the courtyard for the pleasantries and condolences to the widow.

Despite the eccentric reception, the King was not without his well-wishers to his demise, from the royalty to the rich and the influential, and associates and of course, the few sour pusses who wished he had died earlier.

The guests were sent off before dusk, and the servants retired to their quarters half a mile away on the sprawling estate ground and the family members retired to the personal chambers.

The King had died two weeks ago, and the Prince have not arrived.

“Who’s there?” Barnado called out. He looked at his watch, and it showed the dreaded hour of the dar. He reached into his left pocket of the coat and felt the familiar feel of the metal barrel. He was left-handed and that metal piece had been his companion for years having saved his life several times. He reached in with his hand to his neck and felt the other familiar metal piece.

The holy cross on the chain was his salvation for the last few nights.

“Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.” The voice called out from the dark shadow.

“Long live the King!” Barnardo called out. It was the password that they adopted to identify each other.

“Barnardo?” The voice who called out approached Barnado. Barnado heard his name but his fear made him hold the revolver in his left pocket.

“He,” Barnado replied with caution in his voice. He saw them the one who was seen was his miserable-looking friend, Francisco. The latter had on a great overcoat over his suit and held a heavy iron poker in the right hand. He once told Barnado, the devil fears the iron that made the poker.

“This is now the stroke of midnight. Get thee to bed now.” Barnado told his friend. It was not yet the hour for Francisco to be patrolling the side of the castle walls.

“This bitter cold and I sick at heart.” Francisco handed the canister of brandy that he carry with him on such nights.

"Much obliged.” Bernado reached for the canister and gulped the warm concoction. “Have you had quiet guard?”

“Not a mouse stirring.” Francisco took back the canister and pocketed it.

“Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus; the rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.”

“Aye, I think I hear them.” Francisco motioned to the rear of Barnado. “Stand, ho! Who’s there?”


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