Beatrice and Benedick by Marina Fiorato Read Free Book Online Page B

faces peeped out between the lanterns in their glowing, jewel-like colours; peacocks, lions, columbines, jesters. Here were celestial faces too; moons dusted with powdered pearl, stars sprinkled with glittering diamonds, and suns crowned with gilded rays. I could see, among the masks, faces from the picture cards of the
Scopa
deck, one king, one queen and one knave. I untied the queen and placed her face over my own. I wondered whether Signor Benedick would choose to be the king.
    Or the knave.
    It was then that I saw him, walking down the ride from the house, flanked by the prince on one side and young Claudio on the other. I began to smile, for he was changed indeed – the green caterpillar had become a brave scarlet butterfly.
    He was wearing the livery of St James, with a Spanish doublet, sleeves slashed up and down and double breasts carved like an apple pie. The sleeves, tight from elbow to wrist, tapered like cannons. His hair was cut short around the ears, tamed, combed down with a pomade I could smell from where I stood, parted on the side and styled in a curl plastered on his forehead. He walked with great pride and importance, taller than ever in vertiginous boots with high block heels. The stubble of his face had gone to stuff tennis balls, and only the shadow of a moustache shaded his lip, with a small triangular beard below. He had turned, in short, into Don Pedro.
    Hero curtsied to the prince and Claudio, who bowed, and sheconveyed them to the mask tree to choose their identity. I saw my uncle fawn upon them, and cry: ‘Gentlemen, choose your visors!’ as he helped them to the tree’s most costly fruits. Benedick hung back a little, then walked over to me. He bowed with a complicated flourish.
    Although he was not in armour, he was ready, it seemed, for anything; for a rapier hung from his baldric, a dagger peeped from his belt and there were several little Spanish knives stuck into his ceinture, as if it were a butcher’s belt. ‘Signor Benedick,’ I said, badly wanting to laugh. ‘Have you come to slay me?’
    â€˜I am dressed as befits my new occupation.’ He looked about him as if the mulberries grew ears in place of leaves. ‘It is a
very great
secret.’ He looked down at me archly, and I realised even his eyebrows had been tamed. ‘Do not you want to know what it is?’
    â€˜To look as foolish as possible?’
    He bristled, and I relented. ‘I assume,’ I said, ‘from the medal of Saint James about your neck, that you have taken the Spanish dollar and accepted commission for Don Pedro’s army.’
    â€˜That is so, but my role will be much, much more than that.’
    â€˜Last night you had no stomach for soldiery.’
    â€˜Does not the appetite alter?’
    â€˜Apparently,’ I said tartly. ‘But, Signor Benedick, a soldier’s colours are won in the field, and the bravest deeds often wear the meanest clothes.’ I walked all the way around him, assessing his attire from all angles. ‘The jay is not more precious than the lark, because his feathers are more beautiful, nor the adder better than the eel, because of his painted skin.’ I was back in my place. ‘The battledress alone does not make a soldier, but what is inside it. And your sword,’ I touched the cool haft of it with one finger, ‘is as yet untried.’
    Signor Benedick raised his chin. ‘I wear my wit in my scabbard, and draw it daily, and it is this the prince has seen in me.The tongue can open a door to the inner chambers of government better than a key or a cannon.’
    â€˜There we may find agreement. For it seems to me that there are no fellows of action any more; men are only turned into tongues, and trim ones too.’
    â€˜Well, Lady, I had thought to ask you to dance. I was yours for the walk, but now I must walk away.’ He thrust out his shorn chin. ‘You did not like me last night, and you do