FIC: Thou Wilt Quake For This (8/9)
Title: Thou Wilt Quake For This
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (except for the DVD extra)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?
Disclaimer: I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.
Dedication: sykira. You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D
Author's Note: This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to tardis_mole for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.
Thou Wilt Quake For This
Started February 26, 2014
Finished October 9, 2014
Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven
CHAPTER EIGHT: EXAMINATIONS OF VARIOUS TYPES
“Leonato won't come?” exclaimed the Captain.
Benedick grimaced, wishing he had access to the training grounds so he could hit things with his sword or do some other physical activity that would release his frustrations in acceptable ways. Pacing here was a bit unseemly. Whilst he strenuously disliked this act of Leonato's, Benedick knew the man was a saint compared with his own father and was the only reason he tolerated the man. Other than that he needed the man's goodwill at least until the marriage. “No, because Dogberry insisted on speaking with him and the governor lost patience before the Constable could mention that I was a witness who would be speaking. Therefore I must see this examination through. Be here as my witness, Captain.”
“None of the others will testify?”
“I doubt they will be needed, knowing the Sexton and Constable Dogberry; yet we shall have them in the room, just in case,” Benedick hinted.
The Captain decided he had best not ask. He would find out soon enough what his lord meant.
So they walked to join the others who were helping the Watch guard Don John's men. Benedick's men had taken great pleasure in binding the villains with duct tape, their hands in front so they could be seen at all times. And the silence from the silent eyebrow raises whenever there was a protest seemed to add to the men's satisfaction.
Benedick's mere presence made both Borachio and Conrade tremble. They might have managed against the Sexton given the Watch and the Constables, but with the Senor and his men they stood no chance of escaping the King's justice.
The Watch came in. Oatcake spoke for them both. “The Sexton has summoned all to come.”
While his men let the Watch assist in bringing the villains into the examination room, Benedick briefly clenched his eyes shut. Given what he knew of Dogberry this would be the greatest trial on his patience.
And he was not mistaken. The Sexton at least had the benefit of being able to sit down and drag a cigarette until he had to actually start writing things down. He had no such comfort.
Dogberry was in fine form, blundering the language and the methods - which surely gave the villains hope that they could yet escape their captivity - until the Sexton finally brought Dogberry to heel:
“Master constable, you know not the way to examine: you must call forth the Watch that are their accusers, and the additional witnesses.”
“Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the Watch come forth,” called Dogberry. As they did, with Seacole stepping in front, Dogberry added, “Masters, I charge you, in the Prince's name, accuse these men.”
Benedick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This display was sublime to the ridiculous. He was certain it was supposed to be 'in the King's name'.
Seacole, his pad of paper out with his notes, began his tale, pointing at Borachio. “This man said, sir, that Don John, the Prince's brother, was a villain.”
“Write down Prince John a villain! Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain,” cried Dogberry.
Boarchio tried to speak. “Master constable,--”
“Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise thee.”
The Sexton mercifully - to Benedick's perspective - took command from his chair. “What heard you him say else?”
Seacole gladly continued. “Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.”
“Flat burglary as ever was committed,” claimed Dogberry.
“Yea, by mass, that it is,” agreed Verges.
“What else, fellow?” pressed the Sexton, leaning forward as his attention was now visibly engaged.
“And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly this day, and not marry her.”
As the Sexton's eyes widened Dogberry took the pad from Seacole and held it in Borachio's face. “O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.”
Benedick had to rub his face to avoid making a comment, moving it slowly to not make a sound before he let it drop to his side. As someone who believed the language should be used properly it was torture to hear it abused so mightily. Even some of his men were facepalming themselves.
“What else?” demanded the Sexton.
Seacole recovered his pad and allowed Oatcake to step forward to tell the rest: “And that the other man, sir, confessed to aiding this man in accusing Senor Benedick and the Lady Beatrice wrongfully to force them to the altar, and at the instruction of Don John.”
“O villains!” cried Dogberry. “To pervert one marriage and force another is but a dedication in God's sight and a bismerch on the characters of good and honourable noblemen and so fair a lady. How becumbent you have crawled that even the very dogs tower over thee! Pray, thee, I do not whip you like as one for even think to do't!”
Benedick barely suppressed the strangled sounds coming from his throat as he did facepalm himself. Never had he seen a man so ill- educated combined with the finesse of a rotting carcass. What had Leonato been thinking when he allowed this man to become the constable?!
“What else?” said the Sexton as he suddenly began sifting through papers at the side of his desk, like he had been reminded of something.
“Marry, that they knew each would not be able to defend their own reputations by being near, and that the same woman deceived into tricking Count Claudio was used to make the Lady Beatrice seem to be what she was not, and that they intended for the honourable pair to be forced into a marriage that the villains believed would make them miserable.”
“Nay, I take back mine words and eat them, for you are lower than even the dogs' bowel that hath been attack'd by the worms! Foreseer me not, that thou art the worm! Nay, even the meat on which it feeds, for once the Governor and the Prince hear of this you shall be cast off into development!” cried Dogberry.
The Sexton stood slowly, seemingly focused on the papers in his hands. “What else?”
It was fortunate for Benedick's sanity that the only sensible man under Leonato's command in the room had spoken. He might have snapped, his patience was wearing that thin.
“This is all,” said Seacole.
“Senor Benedick, didst thou and thy men also bear witness to what the watch speaks of?”
Benedick stepped forward when addressed. “Yea, sir: I placed myself and my men after hearing the testimony of a young gentleman of Senor Leonato's that chanced to hear Don John and Borachio plot against my cousin; my hope was to catch them in the act of a villainy to ensure that they could not hurt anyone else.”
Conrade whipped his head to look at Borachio in horror, and the latter paled. They were well and truly caught.
The Sexton slammed his papers down. “And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is long suspected of creating villainies in Messina, and with this we can now force the Prince to act.” As he spoke, he drew a handgun from his drawer and holstered it. “I must prepare their examinations to show Senor Leonato.”
“Pray, Sexton, a word,” said Benedick.
“I listen, Senor.”
“Whilst I would gladly prevent any foul words from being said against my cousin at the church I believe the surest way to trap John the Bastard is for him to witness his own plan crumble into dust. Let me speak at the church where I shall accuse him and list the evidence. Be there prepared to show the completed examinations to Leonato and the Prince, and for the capture with armed men of the author of all.”
The Sexton nodded. “A plan of sense. Very well, Senor. Master constable, let these men remain bound and ready to be brought to Leonato's. I will go and prepare their examination.”
After the Sexton left, Dogberry grabbed Conrade who shook him off. “Off, coxcomb!”
“God's my life, where's the sexton? Let him write down the prince's officer coxcomb,” cried Dogberry.
“Away! You are an ass, you are an ass!” snapped Conrade before going silent.
Of course his going silent had as much to do with Benedick stepping towards him as the fight going out of him. And nothing to do with Dogberry's wild expression before that man registered Benedick's approach.
Benedick slapped Conrade, nearly knocking the man off his feet. “Rank is no indication of true gentility nor manners: long have I known this, but to see a man whose record in battle could have brought him to advancement had he not accepted the rule of a villain and prov'd himself to be one disgusts me. Don Pedro trusted thee, and thou betrayed him. Pray for death, for thou shall soon no longer be a gentleman.”
The dark promise had Conrade shaking.
Boarchio tried to stand tall as Benedick came toward him, but he was not expecting the Senor to grab his hair and yank his head back. Benedick whispered, “Be glad that young gentlemen are not permitted swords, for the servant who witnessed thee would have gladly run thou through; Mistress Margaret's family would defend her if given half the chance. And a cousin of hers witnessed yesternight's events.”
He let the man go suddenly, making him stumble. He also took dark delight in seeing the villain's face lose almost all its color as the eyes did an impression of suddenly inflated balloons. Especially when he saw the anger in Alonso's whole being.
“Men, away! We must prepare for the wedding and to capture the Bastard.”
With that, Benedick led his men off.
It was just as well he did not have to hear Dogberry rant about not being 'writ down an ass'.
/=/=/=/
Hero stood in her large wedding dress, fanning herself and waving for a drink of the champagne. Margaret stopped her from drinking and sought a straw from Innogen while Ursula raised the veil to give Hero's neck a breather.
Innogen turned to check on her niece. She was seated at a table on the other side of the room, only being attended to by Maria. She knew that the dress was not quite what Beatrice would have chosen, but such were the suggested styles for persons of her rank.
But the dress was not Innogen's concern. Her concern was her niece's mental state. Told as she was that the plan had been carried out with smashing success she still worried. Her niece had not enjoyed the event Innogen had planned for her girls, and she worried about how prepared Beatrice was to cease to be a maiden.
As much as she had to soon leave to change into her dress she had to encourage her niece. But a quick silent exchange with Maria told her that perhaps the younger woman was better suited to calm the fears; Maria was closer in age to Beatrice and a mother, and as Beatrice's waiting gentlewoman might know best how to speak to the wedding night.
Beatrice held a tissue in one hand and clenched the table with her other. Here it was, the day she had spent most of her life dreading and only since the afternoon prior begun to look forward to. Her wedding-day. Her only comfort was in her intended, for nothing else was going to her preferences.
Starting with her dress. If she had been granted her choice she would have used the lovely gown her mother and grandmother had worn, as she was of a close figure to theirs. But the wrongful shame hanging over her meant that she could not wear white, and therefore a new dress had to be made. In a cream color. Worse still, the shame also meant that hers was also an inferior quality to Hero's, which also rankled because by blood and rank Beatrice was the social better.
Innogen stepped in front of her niece and took her hands to capture her attention. “I know, Niece, that this is not what thou wouldst have chosen, but thou are becoming wife to a man who hath borne a great shame to protect thee. I believe thy parents would have approved of his conduct, and I am sorry that they cannot meet him.”
Beatrice had no words. She merely nodded, sniffling at the memory of her father and the stories of her mother.
Innogen knelt before her. “There are not enough words in any language to speak of the pride and joy I have in thee: thy mother was my friend and I took upon the mantle of raising thee even before I had caught thy uncle's eye and became thy aunt; thou are not merely my niece but a daughter in my heart, and I pray that thy marriage shall make thee happy. And know that though he doth not express it well thy uncle holds thee dear in his heart: you are so like your mother in look that he hath granted thee more liberties than you can possibly know. As much as you devil him he shall miss you, Beatrice, and he wishes he could have done more to protect thee.”
That made Beatrice weep. Long had she wondered whether she was truly dear to those who raised her, and now she had enough of an answer. She clutched her aunt to her for a long moment.
At length Innogen broke the hug, cupped her niece's face tenderly and kissed her forehead. Then she drifted her gaze to check on Hero - who was being guided in breathing exercises by Margaret - before she and Ursula left.
Maria handed Beatrice a box of tissues and helped her dry her eyes. The gentlewoman felt protective of her lady, and more-so since her sister confessed the plan to her in the thought that she could help. Maria had refused to participate, believing that it was cruel to trick them.
“A love as strong as what I believe exists cannot be long concealed once they are married,” she had declared. “I doubt Senor Benedick would act so valiantly toward my lady if he did not care for her, and no other man could have persuaded her to accept his protection. All that is required is for them to meet on their wedding night and the flames flickering within each shall combine into a wild fire that shall consume them: they shall emerge from the ashes into a loving marriage.”
But she was overruled by her mother, the Lady Innogen, the Lady Hero, the Governor, and the Prince. Still, while she could not speak of it she would not assist them. No, her task was to help her lady prepare for the night that would make or break the marriage. Which was compounded by an odd detail: Beatrice had developed a strange habit whenever Benedick's name was mentioned.
Well, she could work around it. Maria sat beside her lady as they ignored the conversation between Hero and Margaret. “My lady, I know the time draws near to an event which you have dreaded, but I pray you do not close yourself off to the chance that love may grow within this marriage if it is not already growing within each of you.”
“You presume much,” Beatrice whispered shortly. She knew Maria meant well, but it was reminding her of her treatment at the hands of Ursula, Hero, and the painters yesterday. She still knew not what to say about it, and had not even spoken of it to Maria.
“Then why challenge him at every opportunity? Why would he seek you out at the revels and at other times? Would it not have made sense for the pair of you to avoid each other if you hated each other so? Why else would the misunderstanding betwixt you have left such a lasting impression?”
Beatrice wrung her hands. “You think we have this merry war because we each cannot bear the thought of not speaking with the other?”
Maria smiled softly. “The past does not matter now. What matters is how you intend to act in marriage. Is not the Senor the most honourable man in the known lands and would make a good husband?”
The answer took a long moment to come out of Beatrice's lips. “He may be the only man I could ever call 'husband'.”
“And do you love him?” asked Maria, taking her hands.
Beatrice was silent for a long moment. This was the first she had spoken of her feelings since she had seen Benedick. “With so much of who I am that I do not know if any is left that doth not,” she whispered, nearly choking on the weight of the words.
“Such a man cannot but be moved by his lady loving him that much. Did you know that he has not let a lady of the night near him since before that day?”
“How do you know?” Beatrice gasped.
“My Balthasar hears stories from many of the men, and they have spoken with amazement of it. The Senor is not like the other lords: he believes in the sanctity of the vows, and has been preparing to consider you half himself ever since, I think. And it seems he hath taken great care to never fall ill as many of the men have.”
This was a great shock. So he had always been careful and was entering the marriage having not known any woman in so many months? If she had remained unaware of his feelings, this would have been a great comfort to her. Now it made a smile slowly cross her face.
“Be waiting for him this evening in your special gown, my lady: I suspect you shall find his passions ready to be captured by you, and I pray that his feelings are in agreement with your own.”
Beatrice had to hug her gentlewoman. Maria had known a happy marriage and produced good children. No one's word carried greater weight with Beatrice, as the gentlewoman did not speak with any of the idealism that Margaret held or the tradition that Innogen did.
Of course the great weight of emotion made Beatrice act like she had allergies. Maria had to provide more tissues.
“Why how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?” asked Hero, breaking into their moment.
Beatrice looked up to be certain that she was being addressed, and smiled weakly. “I am out of all other tunes, methinks.”
Margaret decided on a distraction. “Clap's into 'Light o' love, light o' love;' that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I'll dance it.”
The lady scorned the words. “Ye light o' love, with your heels! Then, if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns.”
“O illegitimate construction!” cried Margaret. “I scorn that with my heels.”
Beatrice groaned, dropping the box back onto the table. “By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho!”
Curiosity about how well the plan had limed Beatrice drew Margaret to speak again. “For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?”
Hero silently warned her and Maria silently glared at her. But Beatrice noticed none of that: “What means the fool, trow?”
“Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!” the gentlewoman declared.
“These gloves the Count sent me; they are an excellent perfume,” said Hero, showing them to Beatrice.
Beatrice drew away, shivering suddenly. “I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.”
Margaret spoke thoughtfully, a hint of a tease since to do fully would be in bad taste. “A maid, and stuffed! Is that not goodly catching of cold?”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. Only the length of time between the Incident and this day kept that from seeming rude. “O, God help me! God help me! How long have you professed apprehension?”
“Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?”
“It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.”
It was nerves making her so, the weight of worry about her cousin and whether Benedick had successfully caught the villains. Perhaps also her feelings toward Benedick. She would not feel better until after the wedding,
Margaret decided to test the waters. “Why, get you some of this medicine, Carduus Benedictus...”
Beatrice sneezed.
Margaret suppressed laughter. “It is the only thing for a qualm.”
“There thou prickest her with a thistle,” hissed Hero.
Before Maria could lay into Margaret, Beatrice spoke. “Benedictus!” And sneezed again. “Why Benedictus?” And again. “You have moral in this Benedictus.” And yet again.
“Moral!” cried Margaret. “No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning with this Carduus... Benedictus.”
Beatrice sneezed again.
Margaret laughed quietly, going back to Hero's side to put some distance between herself and her sister - and the lady. “I mean, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love-”
“Silence!”
Maria's outburst startled the other women. Even Hero took a step back on seeing the protective fire in the older gentlewoman's eyes.
“Call yourselves her friends?! What need anyone for enemies when their own family takes pleasure in their discomfort, doth not help them out when they are trapped by accident or by design?”
Hero flinched. How much had Beatrice spoken to Maria about the events of yesterday when the former was attached at Ursula's urging to the painters' hook? Did Beatrice suspect? Did Maria enlighten her despite her promise?
“Whatever her feelings for the man about to be her husband none have the right to make sport of them or her: she has been loyal to him whilst he hath been to her, and I am amazed that none of those who know them did not act more forcefully to defend their honours; what villainy could have held against so many defending the innocent?! May your Count be half the man you think he is, my lady! For I am sure that your cousin's Senor is worth ten o' him!”
Beatrice's mouth hung open. Maria was speaking out of turn, but plainly did not care. Her loyalty to her lady who was being teased wrongfully in her eyes overcame her respect for the other young Lady of the house. She acted like Hero and Margaret were naughty children who needed a scolding and delivered one.
Perhaps the words about Claudio might be a bit much under the circumstances. As far as Maria knew them. Beatrice felt a great heaviness in her heart knowing that Hero's view of Claudio would be deeply shaken today.
Maria held the shocked gazes until Ursula burst into the room. The silence baffled the older gentlewoman but she had a message: “Madams, I am to fetch you: the Prince the Count, Don John, Senor Benedick-”
Hero and Margaret held up their hands. And Beatrice gave the loudest sneeze yet a moment later. It made them cheer until Maria swatted Margaret's arm.
“And all the gallants of the town are come!” added Ursula, making a scolding motion toward Maria.
Maria uncharacteristically ignored her mother's warning. She went to Beatrice and hugged her tightly, uncaring of whether it wrinkled their dresses. “Your courage shall not fail thee, my lady.”
Beatrice returned the embrace. “Thank you for everything, good Maria.”
While Ursula helped Margaret calm the new nerves Hero developed, Maria helped Beatrice stand, dab her face and then lower the shorter part of the veil. It was time.
Beatrice accepted the bouquet from her gentlewoman and took a deep breath. “I am ready,” she announced, adopting a mantle of calm resignation. It would be her mask until Benedick acted.
Soon she would know if her cousin would be properly protected. The wait was almost over.
Chapter Nine: The Most Proper Lord and Lady in Messina