@1666 London, England
“It was an excellent play—best I ever saw.” Being taller than average, Samuel peered over the evening throng on a dim, misty street corner and waved to a coachman. “Never before did I did see the King’s House so full.”
His companion, Mr. Creed, smiled as he stood close, his hands clasped before him. “Becky Marshall has outdone herself. The Cardinall will meet grand success, certainly.”
Samuel glanced aside, his good mood expanding his heart. “Come and have supper with me. There’s bound to be some meat pasties left, and you can spend the night.”
With a cringe of regret, Creed ducked his head. “Not this time. I’ve got a meeting in the morning.” Watching the coach draw near, he stepped back. “But I’ll ride till your house.”
Oblivious to the danger, Samual stood on the curb and as the coach jolted to a halt, mud splashed on Samuel’s best grey suit. His eyes widened in fury. “Oh, bloody hell. I’m presenting before the committee tomorrow.”
Creed only shrugged in helpless innocence and the two men climbed aboard. A memory from a comedic part of the play lightened Samuel’s mood. With a mild chuckle, he wiped the worst of the mud from his pant legs. “Jane can see to it in the morning.” He stretched out and sighed. “I shouldn’t have wasted another whole evening, but—”
Creed patted an enormous yawn. “We work hard and get little recompense for our efforts, so a little fun won’t do us any harm.” He waved a teasing finger. “As that Shakespeare fellow said, ‘The play’s the thing.’”
His eyebrows rising, Samuel shrugged. “Oh, him. I like his work well enough, but so much depends on the presentation.” The coach bolted over a series of bumps jerking Samuel further down his seat. “You can have the best lines in the world, but if they’re read by a fool, foolish they will be.”
Creed nodded. “Or the opposite. Take the king. When he speaks nonsense, everyone oohs and ahhs as if pearls of wisdom drop from his lips.”
The coach jerked to a stop as another coach crossed its path.
Samuel closed his eyes, folding his hands behind his head. “The simple truth is—Plays make life worth living.”
Mr. Creed chuckled. “To escape reality?”
His eyes flicked open, Samuel stared at Creed. “To make sense of reality. In a play, we dare to tell a truth that’d normally get a man killed.”
Stifling another yawn, Creed rested his head on his hand. “Playwrights must pray that kings are blind as well as foolish.”
“A safe bet, if you ask me.” Samuel scratched his chin, eyeing Creed carefully. “There’s another play tomorrow. Want to go?”
Mr. Creed slapped his cheeks through another enormous yawn. “What’s playing?’
“Does it matter?”
The coach creaked to a halt in front of a stately house, and Mr. Creed stepped out, followed by Samuel, who tossed a coin to the driver.
Samuel carefully stepped around the puddles and strode up the cobblestone walk.
Mr. Creed called after him. “Till tomorrow then.”
Samuel chuckled as he opened his door, never looking back. “The play’s the thing.”
Teal gripped his son’s shoulder and led him across the muddy street. Dressed as common English laborers, they watched Mr. Creed amble down the road, his steps fading into the London night.
Cerulean peered into his father’s face. “I didn’t understand the play they watched. The audience laughed at things that weren’t even funny.”
Teal patted Cerulean’s shoulder and nudged him down the road beyond Samuel’s neat, white house. “Humor does not translate well from one culture to another.” He shrugged. “But from the description, that play was meant as a tragedy.”
“Why in the universe would anyone want to reenact a tragedy?”
“Humans have peculiar tastes.” Teal tugged Cerulean into shadow as another coach rattled by. “Personally, I think it’s how they process their existence.” He glanced down at the young Luxonian. “Did you hear what they were saying in the coach?”
“I never hear well as an insect.” Cerulean grinned. “But I changed into a mouse as soon as I was under the seat, and then I could hear very well indeed.”
“You’re learning.” Teal patted Cerulean’s back.
A woman’s scream torn through the London street.
Cerulean jumped forward.
Teal gripped his arm. “Don’t get involved.”
The woman screamed again. Men’s voices jeered in drunken laughter.
Cerulean tugged, trying to pull free. “But someone’s getting hurt.”
Teal shook his head and lifted his hand, his index finger pointing to the moonlit sky. “We’re guardians of our world—not theirs.” He pulled Cerulean closer and peered into his eyes. “Trust me; there’s nothing we can do. We’d only make matters worse if we got involved.”
Cerulean jerked free, heaving deep breaths, his eyes wide and alarmed.
Distant murmurs turned to chuckles and fell into silence.
Teal beckoned to his son. “It’s time we went home.”
Cerulean‘s shoulders drooped in defeat. “But what was the point of coming tonight? We didn’t learn anything.”
“On the contrary. I have a brilliant idea for a new presentation to give the Supreme Council.” Teal chuckled.
Leaping over a puddle, Cerulean drew closer. “What’ll it be called?”
Teal took Cerulean’s hand. “Guess.”
Staring up at his father, the starlight twinkling in his eyes, Cerulean grinned. “The play’s the thing.”
Novels by A. K. Frailey
Last of Her Kind http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg
Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN
Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r
Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend
OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN
OldEarth Ishtar Encounter (In production)
OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)
OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)
The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5
The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00