Act Four
Act
Four Scene Six
Sub
Scene Two
England
was not peaceful
Hamlet
sat in the front passenger seat of the coal-driven engine of the four-wheel
car; as they named it then. He had sat in the American Model T; the car that
every family could afford if they hold enough money to buy it. That one driven
from the English port was not entirely a Model T but modified to run coal which
was abundant in the isle.
“It
ain't as smooth but the coal cheaper.” The driver who picked up Hamlet told
him. His name was Harold, dressed in the grey overall, and wore a battle iron
hat from the isle army; I served at Somme and wore goggles over his eyes.
“I
called her Connie, after my missus. She weighs a ton like this car.” Harold
won’t stop talking while driving Hamlet. He was in the second car, behind the
one where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern sat with two other English men. The
other two Englishmen were dressed in tweeds and had on bowler hats.
Hamlet
was met at the port by the two cars and whisked off immediately.
“The
words were you are a Prince. I had not driven on before, besides a toff I once
drove, who had his nose covered the whole trip and paid me miserably. Coal
ain’t the smell of daisies, but she is ours.” Harold kept on the one-sided
conversation. The drive went through the cobbled street in the villages, sacred
to half the others, and woke up more of the late risers.
“If
it was during my days, my paddy would have thrown me out of the barn for
sleeping this late.” Harold was raised at the farm with the sows and cows and
slept in the barn most nights.
It
was by a long country road when the farm truck weighing more than the car,
slammed into them, and send Connie into the ditch. Hamlet was thrown out at the
side and landed on the sodden soil. He looked to Harold who was stuck behind
the steering wheel and bloodied from head to shoulders. He heard gunshots then.
“It’s
those bloody highway robbers.” One of the Englishmen called out. “They are the
bane of the road.”
“Bloody
good it will do to them.” The other English bloke had a revolver in his right
hand and was firing at the bushes by the roadside.
“Can
we take off now?” Rosencrantz asked.
“Boody
well, but what if your Prince?” The English bloke asked back. “He is the reason
we are here.”
“Let
him be. The others will finish him off for all I cared.” Guildenstern was
upset. “We were not tasked to take bullets for him.”
“It’s
your neck on the noose, mate.” The English bloke told Guildenstern. “We will
leave now.”
“Shoot
a few rounds into the rear seat. That will finish him or not, wounded him
fatally.” Guildenstern told the other. “I will tell the Emperor, his son died
valiantly.”
The
English bloke did as he was told, and then took off in their car. Hamlet still
on the side, was wounded by the fall out of the car. He found himself
surrounded by four rowdy-looking chaps holding pitchforks and scythes.
“If
he is the Prince, I will be darned by my mother’s luck for charm,” One of the
chaps said. “Let’s check his bags.”
“Issac,
do not swear on your mother or I will clogger you from here to the farm.”
Another cautioned the earlier one.
“Ouch,
Pa. All I said…” The earlier one protested.
“Miff
your mouth, Son. We got work to do.” The four blokes ignored Hamlet and took to
the belongings from the car. Hamlet crawled to the side and watched them
rummage through his bags.
“Lots
of books. Do you read, Pa?” A younger one asked the elderly man.
“Not
so much. Your mama read to me then. I just work with my hands.” The elderly man
replied.
“Pa,
what is … FANNY …HILL? I know of Daisy’s fanny though? Will mum read that to
me?” Another one picked up the book to show his father.
“I
thought you could not read?” The one that was quiet all along finally voiced
out.
“Ma
did teach me some words. She said it was polite to learn some. I learned the
others from Uncle Jack.” The other replied. “Uncle Jack knew a lot of words. He
told me of the Spanish flies; have not seen any. And the flies taste ….bitter.”
“You
stayed away from Uncle Jack. He is loony. The last war cracked his skull.” The
one we all knew as Pa cautioned his sons. “Let us get into the value items and
leave. Pitchforks are not good against guns.”
“Pitchforks
are the demon’s weapon, Pa, and they work well for them:” The learned one told
his Pa.
“Get
your asses into the works, or it will be my fork into your fault.” Pa at
tethers with his patience. They soon left with the items of value, and Hamlet
was alone. He was hurt but managed to pull himself further from the car to the
road. He lay there waiting for help before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Hamlet woke up to someone rummaging through
his pockets.
“Hey!”
Hamlet called out weakly. The hands left his pocket. “No, wait. I need help. I
can pay you …handsomely. I am the Prince of Norway.”
“By
gosh, I am the Prince of Persia.” The other said. “And it’s bigger than
Norway.”
“Would
this help?” Hamlet dug out some currencies from his hidden pocket in the vest.
“I
loved Norwegian fishes.” That was how Hamlet was saved by the gentleman who
took him to be nursed and helped him prepare some letters.
“His
name is Horatio. See him and you will be paid.”
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