Earl of Oxford, to you my lad, and don't you forget it," she said sharply.
"Yes, Ma'am. Beg your pardon, Ma'am." Ben put pen to paper.
"'Twelfth Night' made the Earl a great favorite at Court - in the beginning, at least."
TWELFTH NIGHT
Backstage at Whitehall Palace's Great Hall, the Earl of Oxford's Players were scant minutes away from their first performance. Costumed actors, prompters and wardrobe keepers hurried about attending to final details.
Their patron, Edward de Vere, a tall, well-built man with finely chiseled features and clear, bright eyes stood to one side looking harried and tense. The Earl's concerned expression was perfectly understandable. After all, how many plays debuted in front of Queen Elizabeth?
But Edward wasn't contemplating his Courtly audience. He was mentally cursing Elizabeth's impatience. A scant three days earlier, the Queen, wearying of constant postponements, had ordered him to stage his play without further delay.
Why did she have to meddle so? Edward asked himself angrily. Any fool could see that the entertainment was, as yet, unfinished. If not for her express command, he would still be hard at work, rehearsing and writing, lovingly shaping "Twelfth Night" into the glittering jewel he saw in his mind's eye.
Out front, Anne Vavasor, Elizabeth's newest maid of honor, stepped into the Great Hall to make her own Court debut. Two needlewomen had spent days perfecting Anne's green velvet gown and its golden adornments. Resplendent in pearls and a glittering emerald tiara, this alluring young woman caused quite a stir as she strolled slowly through the vast audience. Anne's perfect features, topped by an abundant mane of raven-black hair, enslaved several hearts before she took her seat near the front.
Backstage, a servant hurried over, disturbing Edward's thoughts. The troubadours, who were to play the Duke of Illyria's musicians, had still not arrived. Edward shrugged gloomily. He had long ago sent every man he could spare in search of the missing troubadours.
Dismissing the servant, Edward looked down at the prompt script in his hand. The play's opening lines seemed to mock him. How could he possibly open this of all plays without music?
Edward looked up in agitated frustration. The servant was hurrying back towards him. He sighed with relief. The musicians had arrived, in the nick of time. Well, their apologies and excuses could wait until later.
The servant rushed to Edward's side. "The Queen! The Queen!" he whispered urgently.
-:-:-
Trumpets sounded in the Great Hall. The chatter quickly died away as everyone stood and turned to watch Queen Elizabeth enter. She was seated alongside Lord Burghley, her senior advisor. Courtiers and ladies resumed their seats chattering in excited anticipation. Elizabeth was ready for the play to begin, but she looked around in vain for Edward's broad-shouldered frame.
The Earl peeped out at his audience from backstage. He saw Burghley whispering something into the Queen's ear. Edward guessed that the Lord Chamberlain was gallantly offering to investigate the delay. Such assistance would quickly unmask Edward's problem.
The Earl decided to play for time. Throwing his prompt script aside, Edward stepped out into the Great Hall and walked over to Elizabeth. Smiling gallantly, he bowed extravagantly before the Queen.
Annoyed at being kept waiting, Elizabeth acknowledged him with a cursory nod, "What do you have for us tonight?"
"A comedy, your Majesty. Noble dukes and elegant ladies, all transfixed by Cupid's piercing arrows..."
"We don't like comedies," the Queen said sourly.
"But, surely your Majesty used to dote on witty plays, replete with clever turns of phrase."
"Such frivolities no longer suit my advancing years," Elizabeth interrupted, fixing a stern gaze on the Earl.
"Perhaps your Majesty should consider banning comedies from the Court?" Burghley suggested.
"I might at that," Elizabeth said, turning to Burghley. "Laughing stretches my cheeks, causing these hideous wrinkles." Elizabeth patted sadly at her jowls with two bejeweled hands. Burghley shot a mocking glance at Edward.
"Majesty, I must protest..." the Earl began in a spirited fashion.
"What!" Burghley barked.
"Your beauty is a timeless wonder, famed throughout all the courts of Europe..."
Elizabeth lifted her hand to silence Edward.
Pretending not to notice, he continued, "Why, only last week, a certain ambassador, who shall remain nameless, confided in me that your flawless charms moved him so greatly that the poor fellow knew not whether to treat you as a queen or as a woman."
"And what did you tell this ambassador?"
"I advised him to treat you as both, Majesty," Edward replied, bowing deeply.
Elizabeth smiled, her impatience momentarily curbed.
Burghley scowled. "How much longer do you intend to keep her Majesty waiting?" he snapped angrily.
Behind the Lord Chamberlain, Edward spotted several guards ushering his troubadours into the back of the Great Hall. Beaming, the Earl turned to Elizabeth, "We await only your royal command to begin," he said.
"Begin, begin!"
Edward replied with his best bow. Straightening up, the Earl turned and walked towards the waiting troubadours as if he had always intended for them to make their entrance from the rear of the Great Hall. The musicians bowed deeply as Edward approached. He gestured to them to begin playing.
The troubadours may not have known how to make their way backstage on time, but these handpicked musicians certainly knew their instruments. They began a hauntingly beautiful melody. Edward directed them towards the stage. As they strolled slowly forward, the glittering Court audience turned to watch, amused by the novelty of this opening. Edward strode quickly backstage.
The actors playing Orsino and Curio were standing ready to take the stage. Unfortunately, the actor charged with delivering "Twelfth Night's" opening lines was nowhere to be seen. Edward hurried into the wings. His musicians had just gained the stage. He signaled them to reprise their introduction. Turning to face the audience, the troubadours accomplished this seamlessly. As they did so, the Duke of Illyria appeared adjusting a freshly powdered wig.
Exasperated beyond words, the Earl ushered him and the other players on stage. Then, snatching up his prompt script, Edward collapsed into a chair.
The Duke began:
"If music be the food of love, play on!
Give me excess of it, that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That melody again! It had a dying fall..."
Before the First Act was over, Elizabeth had interrupted with applause on five separate occasions. Such praise was unprecedented.
Burghley struggled to hide his anger at Elizabeth's obvious delight. For one
