A Midsummer Eve's Nightmare by Donna Fletcher Crow Read Free Book Online Page B

here? Neighbor kids been playing baseball?”
    Erin sighed. “Dirk, make yourself useful. There’s a broom and dustpan behind the kitchen door. Then you can find some cardboard and close up that hole.”
    “Right.” Dirk grinned and headed for the kitchen as ordered. “And then we’ll order in some pizza and stuff ourselves.”
    “Food, ooooh!” Elizabeth groaned.
    Richard looked at Tori who had completed her ministrations to the cat. “Will you be all right here tonight?”
    “Of course. We’re fine. Really. Don’t worry. I don’t have wardrobe call tonight. Dirk and I can take care of Erin. I told you, she’s just a little unstrung from everything that’s happened. You two go have a good time.”
    Elizabeth didn’t argue, but she reminded her sister to lock the door and windows and close the curtains as soon as it got dark. And a short time later the mound of angel hair pasta covered in a delicate sauce of Italian tomatoes and fresh herbs was more than enough to take her mind off the earlier alarms. Then, as they crossed the flower-banked courtyard to the theatre, a joyful Renaissance dance tune floated over the wall. Elizabeth couldn’t resist. With her arm still through Richard’s she put the alarms of the afternoon firmly behind her and entered Shakespeare’s world doing a tiny skip-step.
    Henry V
    “In Cases of defense ‘tis best to weigh
    The enemy more mighty than he seems.”
    - Dauphin

Chapter 8
    AFTER STROLLING LEISURELY, STILL arm-in-arm, around the old English dancers and musicians, and tonight, happily accepting the wares of the tart-seller, Richard and Elizabeth took their seats. “This should be good,” Richard said. “The histories are my favorite Shakespeare.”
    Elizabeth nodded and squeezed his arm. “Me too. I’m such a sucker for spectacle. All the banner waving and trumpet blaring.”
    Richard wrinkled his forehead. “Well, yes, but I like them because they are history— factual. I read that Ashland is the only festival in the country that does the entire canon of Chronicle histories in rotation, uncut.”
    Elizabeth sighed and grinned at Richard. She knew everyone said marriages weren’t made in heaven, but surely theirs was an exception. Where else in all the world could there be a man that so entirely suited her? And she had been right about coming here for their honeymoon. In spite of the interruptions, this was one of the most romantic spots on earth. Especially for two English teachers who often felt more at home in Shakespeare’s world than in their own. When the flag went up and the trumpet sounded Elizabeth applauded with as much enthusiasm as anyone who had walked across London Bridge to the south bank of the Thames to stand in the pit of the Fortune Theatre almost 400 years ago.
    A young page walked downstage displaying a placard that read:
    The Chronicle History
    Of
    King Henry V
    With his battell fought
    At Agincourt in France
    By
    Will Shakespeare
    Will be played by the lord Chamberlain’s men
    This day
    In the day of grace 1600
    Again the trumpets sounded. Elizabeth’s eyes misted with her love of history, love of the English language, love of the man beside her. “Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France? Or may we cram within this wooden O the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt?” the chorus asked.
    And Elizabeth’s heart answered, yes. She was ready to see the unfolding tale of one of her favorite heroes, the man Shakespeare held to be the ideal king—human, hearty and heroic— with a love of his people, the law, and God.
    The Church urged Henry to war. His nobles urged Henry to war. And then the Dauphin insulted Henry with a gift of tennis balls. Now all the youth of England were on fire. Until at the French court the Dauphin warned his father the king, “In cases of defense ‘tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems.”
    Elizabeth jerked upright. The beautiful bubble of a dream she had been floating in