Fic: "Twilight for Anonymous..." Part III...

[reg...@aol.com]

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca
verse, .www.buffyrebecca.com or direct to story at http:/
www.buffyrebecca.com/tfa.html..

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and
scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part III…

London lodging of William Shakespeare…The city base and home away from
home of England's most popular (subject to (often violent) dispute by
rivals) playwright…

The knocking at the door proving not to be as feared, agents of the
Queen, intent on ferreting out any potential threats to the blessed
stability of Elizabeth's reign…But as the surprise visiting (fretting
over reports of rumored attempts by mysterious well-placed persons to
claim credit for her husband's work and over reports of Will's
'activities' among London's fair sex…) Anne Shakespeare noted, first
inwardly, and then with impatience (What, am I the dim serving wench
now?) to her closet-concealed husband and his colleague/competitor
(tis best till we know what's about here, girl…And we haven't finished
untying Will yet…), Ben Jonson, potentially far worse…

In the form of a rather foppish clerical emissary of the Earl of
Oxford, with an insistent note demanding several small but vital scene
changes for a previously requested private performance of a slightly
older, yet still successful on revival, play, "Richard II"…

"And His Highness the Earl would like these alterations by when?..."
Anne asked, innocently…

"By tomorrow night…Can he do it?..." the clerk eyed her…

Hmmn, not bad…A bit of a country wench by her browned skin and those
firm arms but with a little carriage and reasonable diction…

This fellow Shakespeare likes his serving lassies buxom and dark as
well as clever I see…And a little spirit in those brown eyes…Yes, a
nice armful…And old enough to know a thing or two…

"Oh, without fail, sir…" she smiled, bowing head slightly…

Hmmn…The clerk looked her over again…She struggling to hold smile at
his taking inventory…

It's not who the little twerp is but whom he represents…For Will's and
the kids' sake…She told herself…

Not bad, the clerk summed up…Perhaps before I take my leave I might
indulge in a little indulgence…No doubt my gracious Lord would approve
it as one of the perks of my position…

Still, should actually confirm things with the fellow…The Earl was
rather insistent this be ready on time…

"You're sure Master Shakespeare is unavailable…?"

"I'm afraid so, sir…But I will see he gets your letter within the
hour…"

Shakespeare frowning in the closet…Fellow sounds a bit…Forward…

Hmmn…Hour?...Thought the clerk…

Pshaw…Doesn't leave much time for indulgence…Ah well, set things up
and when I pick up the completed project, I see to my own fringe
benefit…

"All right then…You seem a clever lass…" smile… "And a comely one…"
chuck under chin…Pressing small coin in her hand… "Here's something
for you now…And a promise of more for us both, later, eh…" wider
smile…

Anne, pasting extremely false smile… "Oh, thank you, sir…" slight
curtsy…

I'll tolerate a kiss for the greater good but if he goes for the
breasts, I'll break his neck and send a boy with my regrets for the
sad accident on our dark stairs and a promise as to the work…

("Will…Not now…" Jonson hissed as Shakespeare made for the door…

That little…)

"I must return to the Earl…Til tomorrow, sweet lass…" the clerk turned
to go, pausing… "What be thy fair name, girl?..."

("For God's sake and our careers, Will!…" Jonson, desperately
clutching an arm…)

"Anne, sir…"

"Well, Anne…I must return to the Earl to report…Tomorrow night we'll
toast your master's success in pleasing mine, eh…?" smirk…

Warm smile...Well, you saved your life for one more day at least,
bastard…

Though I'd never say no to a free pitcher of good ale…And a chance to
make the Mister Shakespeare shake a bit with jealousy…

"Good night, sir…"

"Anne…" elegant wave…Flourishing sweep of cloak on turn, modeled on
his master, DeVere's style…Slam of door on departure…

"All right, the little twit's gone off…!" she called to the closet…

A furious Shakespeare, followed by Jonson, emerging…

"What?..." she regarded Will's angry face…Repressed grin…

Nice to see a little of the ole green-eyed monster there, eh?...

"You told that…#$%#!...of a messenger boy…That puffed and perfumed
popinjay scrivener to a…Popinjay…"

"That you'd be finished by tomorrow night with these alterations…" she
offered the letter calmly… "And I'd expected better from my
Shakespeare…Really, Will…Popinjay to a popinjay?..."

"Anne, you know what I mean…He thinks you're…"

"Unmarried?..." she asked, innocently… "He never asked, you know…"

"Anne…Married or un-…The man will be expectin' you to..."

"Every man lives on expectin'…" she airily shrugged…

I know I do…Jonson thought…

"Come now, Will…Since when can't I handle the likes of that?..." she
shook her head… "Have I ever given you cause?…I mean since we were
plighted, of course…?"

He frowned but shook his head… "Always a first time, girl…"

"And I might be askin' the same of you, you know…" she noted, a bit
grimly…

"You didn't even ask…You simply tied me up…" he replied, equally grim…

"That was for yer own and the family's protection…"

"So will I say tomorrow…" he eyed her…

"Will…"

"Let me see the damned thing…" he pointed to the letter in her hand…
Which she handed him…

"Changes to my 'Richard II'?…Who the devil does that idiot kid DeVere
think he is?..."

"He'll be takin' it as his own in a minute if we're not defending your
work, love…As I've been tellin' ya…" she noted… "But we need to go
along this one time and find out what his game is and what dangers it
might pose to us, the innocent bystanders…It could be political,
Will…"

"A play about a king forced to abdicate…I'd say it was…" he nodded…

Hmmn…All three regarded each other…

Not something one wants to take lightly in Tudor England…Even if old
Eliza's not the maniac her father Henry was…

Spymaster Walsingham at least being inclined to extreme prejudice in
defense of his Queen and realm…Particularly with upstart writers and
playwrights…And perfectly content to use them…Or their dead or
tortured bodies…To send a little warning to that troublesome noble
backer who's a bit tough to bring down without a lot of fuss and
feathers…

Nice as it was to be taken seriously by important types…Not something
even a playwright protected by a Slayer might want to fool with…

"Those two young idiots Essex and Oxford could drag us down to the
abyss…Or the chopping block…Or worse…" Shakespeare noted…

"The 'worse' I'd say for the likes of us…Drawing and quartering at
least for commoners implicated in treason…" Jonson nodded
thoughtfully…

Hmmn…Well, while it would be nice to see a competitor removed from the
chessboard, it would increase the risk for us all…And probably take
dear Anne as well…And perhaps muck up my own latter-day revenge…

Besides, it's one thing to triumph over my rival in Art and Love on my
own, with a bit of supernatural assist…Come to think of it I ought to
have demanded a love spell from that vengeance lord…Quite another to
see our profession trampled on by some effete aristo…

"All you've to do is alter a few lines, eh Will? Not a big problem…"
Anne insisted…

Jonson eyed Shakespeare…Lord, laypeople…They think this stuff just
comes rattling out of our brains, writing itself…

"The hell you say, girl…" Will frowned… "This is an intricate work…
Pull out or modify one line and the whole structure can crash to the
ground…"

"Indeed, Annie…This is no slight task…" Jonson agreed… "And the whole
thing is in verse…It's like a fine timepiece, carefully wound…"

"Exactly…Thanks, Ben…" Will nodded, pleased at the support…

Artists…Anne rolled eyes…Especially, male artists…They sure stick
together…

"Fine…But can you make the changes and reset the 'timepiece' by
tomorrow evening…?"

"Well…"

"Good…Off to it, love…" she pointed to a room in back…

"But…Anne…"

"What?...There's much to do, Will…You've your work…I'll need to be
about finding out what my people know about DeVere and Essex and their
plans…And if there's another reason besides sheer vanity that DeVere
might be seeking to claim your work as his own…"

Shakespeare frowning…Anne…

Anne, likewise…Will…

Still, tis a proper division of labour, one must concede, he had to
admit to himself…

Lord, all this nonsense over one stupid poem commissioned by one
stupid young twit of an earl…

Though it did bring Annie to London…A den of iniquity, however
profitable for the family fortunes, she constantly swears never to
come to, especially whilst the Stratford Hellmouth and her kiddies
demand her attention…I owe that fop DeVere thanks for that at least…

Jonson, seeing an opening, spoke up…

"Mistress Shakespeare is right, Will…Best for her to go out and about…
I can provide an escort if you like…"

Anne rolling eyes…I can imagine the help he'd be…

"Anne…You yourself said it might be political…Who's to say it might
not be best for me to just leave it be and tell that fool I'm too busy…
Besides, you just got here…And tied me up…And left me here to go
chasing down Ben here…"

Indeed…Jonson nodded, pondering…

Could be there was some double meanin' in that…

"Will, I came because you didn't write back to my letter about the
rumors about your work being claimed of another…"

"You haven't even told me how you and the children are faring…"

"Now, love…Hamnet's well, Judy's got a little cold…Suzannah's done a
drawing for you…" she reached into the folds of her dress... "Here…"
she handed him a scrap of paper…

"She's talented, our Sue…" he beamed at the drawing…

"And they all send Papa their love and want him home…As do I…And thank
ye for askin' about me as well…For once…" wry grin…

"Annie…Well…Soon as the season ends, tell them…Did you leave them with
Mother and Dad or your people?..."

"The way your dad is these days?…" frown… "My people, of course…"

"He has his troubles, Dad does…But I don't see that…"

"Troubles, indeed…" eye roll… " You know the customs agents found
another of his wool shipments…He just barely evaded jail this time…And
he got mixed up in that oath-taking business again…He'll be the ruin
of us one day for sure…"

"Anne, Dad is a man of faith…The old faith…When not stretching the law
on wool marketing…"

People…Jonson sighing inaudibly…Our careers (particularly that of
England's greatest playwright, me) and lives on the line?...Can we
play "family catch-up" another time…?

"He couldn't just be happy with that coat of arms you got for him…Live
in quiet retirement and practice his old faith in secret...As I
practice my old profession?..."

Shakespeare, suddenly cautious, glance at Anne…

"You know Ben knows about me work ever since that night I had to save
you both in Stratford…" she shrugged… "No worries there…He knows I'd
shut his mouth for him if he ever breathed a word…"

"Aye…" Jonson, slight frown…Picturing the moment of said threat,
following a late night rescue of the utterly wasted Jonson and
Shakespeare returning from a writer's brainstorming session/drunken
carouse...

The Undead lass serving at the tavern having been all too willing to
follow along with them after closing…

A furious Anne having destroyed said pretty tavern's assistant and her
gang of Undead rogues and highwaypeople equally angry at Jonson's
leading her husband on a orgastic drinking binge as at the Undead
threatening her husband…

…And making it perfectly clear while holding the suddenly sobered
Jonson by one hand off the ground that she would indeed keep her
promise to disembowel him with that sharp piece of wood in her hand
should he ever breathe a word of her abilities…

…Or bring Will home in such a state, again…

"But if he'd be so good as to leave us be a moment…We should be
discussin' the household accounts before I go…" she eyed Will…

"Thought you sent me the household accounts last week…" he replied…

Will…For the Lord's sake…Eye roll…

Well, at least it bodes well against them rumors of his doin's here in
the City…

"Aye, but you should be seein' them in detail…In your workroom…"

"Oh?..." innocent confusion…

By the Lord's Mass, for an educated man and England's leadin'
playwright, you're quite a dense fellow sometimes, William…Anne fumed…

"In…Full detail…Full and naked detail…" she tried, staring…Slight pull
at her chest stays…Shaking of fair locks…

Come on Adonis…Venus been without it in Stratford too long…

Oh…Yes…Right…Will eyed her…

"Yes, we should go over those accounts, in back…" Will nodded…

"Thought you'd never ask…" Anne, archly… "Just be a few moments, Ben…
Family matters…"

Oh, please…Jonson sighed…Watching the two happily hurrying to the room
in back…Pausing at door…

"Just take a minute, Ben…" she called back…

"Anne?...Have I lost any more…?" Will bent head for her observation…
Opening door…

She peered…"No…Well…P'rhaps a bit…But not much…" she lied… Pulling him
into the room, closing door with slam…

The thanks I get for all my help…Jonson eyed the closed door with
smoldering look…

Well, I shall be revenged…

It's guaranteed…

***

An alleyway near Whitehall…A frowning Anne carefully avoiding several
muckholes and trying to fan away the stench with her hand…She paused
by a stretch of what seemed to be brick wall…

"The sign?..." A male voice issued from within, via a slot created by
the removal of a loose brick…

"Piss off and open, tis' the Slayer!…" Anne replied…

"Yes?...And how would I be knowing it's the Slayer, missy?..." the
sharp reply…

"I can dust you through this slot, arse's bastard vampire…Don't you be
putting on fal-der-ol airs with me…Tell yer damned (and I mean that
literally) boss I've come…" she whacked her stake at the opening in
the wall…

Sound of noises from within…Faint sound of argument…

The wall suddenly opened, bricks carefully cut and attached to a
wooden door…

"Mistress Hathaway the Vampire Slayer…" another male voice, that of
the one arguing with the vampire doorkeeper… "Welcome…"

"Mistress Shakespeare, Willie…" Anne replied…Stepping in…Eyeing the
frowning tall gaunt figure frowning at her sourly from the side as the
slight and genial Willie took her free hand and gave it a gallant
kiss…

"Don't mind Hector…He's a good un, strictly cow's blood…My brother-in-
law, a sad and tragic case…"

"You've a lot of brothers- and sisters- in-law, William…" Anne frowned
at the little man(?)…

"London's a dangerous place, Ma'am…" Willie sighed… "Me relations are
forced to remarry frequently…Hector, a chair for the lady...Will ye
have ale, good Slayer?..."

"Twouldn't be sayin' no, Willie…" she nodded, taking seat from the
still-frowning Hector…

"What's the bug up his Undead arse?…" she tilted head at the vampire,
quaffing a long draw from the mug Willie set before her… "I kill some
close mate or one of your innumerable sisters, his spouse?..."

"You're Shakespeare's wife…" Hector replied, suddenly…

"Bastard cheated me on the last oats crop…"