Shakespeare for Squirrels

Moth pulled open Rumour’s robe to reveal nothing at all—not even legs or feet, just empty space. She pulled his robe shut as quickly as if slamming the door in the face of a menacing dragon. “Well that’s bloody disturbing,” she said.

“This geezer’s magical,” said Cobweb.

“Magically dried up my nethers like salt on a slug,” said Peaseblossom, unhanding Rumour’s tongues.

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” said Rumour.

“They do that,” said Bottom.

“It is our way,” said Moth.

“We are simple,” said Peaseblossom.

“Just her,” said Cobweb. “She’s the simple one.”

“That’s right,” said Peaseblossom. “Sorry, I forgot. I’m—”

“We know!” said I. “Rumour, state your purpose, or do fuck off.”

“The key to the mystery is the lovers,” said Rumour.

“You said that before, and I’ve seen the lovers, and they’re useless and silly.”

“At the same time,” said Cobweb, nodding gravely. “They didn’t kill the Puck. I asked them myself.”

“Well you’ve missed the clue they bore. Examine them again. And there are three simple words that will reveal the Puck’s purpose, and thereby his killer. Three simple words.”

“The Puck would say that, about the three words,” said Cobweb, “when the night queen was displeased with him. ‘I could fix this in three words,’ he’d say.”

“What are the words?” I asked.

“That you must discover for yourself or your apprentice shall perish,” said Rumour.

“I have already discovered the Puck’s message and what he was carrying to Theseus. And there is no shortage of credible rascals I could blame for his murder.”

“And what of the potion he was to deliver? Was that not part of your task?”

I looked to Cobweb, she to me. “Fuckstockings,” said I.

“And so, the doomed, dull-witted drudge, the soon-to-be-dead Pocket, realized his own futility, and—”

“Wait, you’re the one who said you taught Puck to circle the globe in forty minutes. You could fetch the flower for me,” said I. “You could save Drool.”

“I am for drama, I am for intrigue, I am for misdirection and mystery. I serve only the story. Why would I do that?”

“To get your hat back,” said Moth. With that the towheaded fairy leapt to nearly twice her height, spritely even for a sprite, and snatched the hat of tongues off Rumour’s head, then landed as soft as a cat and rolled, coming to her feet with the hat held high. “Ha!”

The rest of us stood, mouths agape, for what we thought would be Rumour’s head was, indeed, nothing at all. Where his forehead ended was just nothing down to his neck in the back, so it appeared that his ears were simply escorting a long-nosed tragedy mask through the air, and tragedy was his expression, even as he let loose with a long, high-pitched, horrified scream. With a whoosh, in a streak of light, he was gone, taking his annoying glow with him, leaving the call of “The passion of the Puck lies with the prince,” hanging in the air behind him.

“Ha,” said Moth. “New hat.” She fitted it on her head and commenced to nest building without further comment, the tongues on the hat wagging as she went.

“Told you he was magic,” said Cobweb. “He’s right about you getting back to Theseus without the flower.”

“Not to worry, lamb,” said I. “I, the all-licensed fool, shall fetch the flower before I return to Theseus.”

“You know that I know that you don’t have Puck’s magical powers, don’t you?”

“I’ll make a fire,” said I, choosing to overlook Cobweb’s stubbornness. “Peradventure, the shadow king will help us.”

“Probably not,” said the fairy.

“I know,” said I.

* * *

When the nests were built, and our bellies were full of nuts, berries, and the last of the bread I’d bought in Athens, I curled into the nest Cobweb had built on the ground and laid my head on my coxcomb folded over, facing the fire’s embers. Cobweb crawled in behind me and ruthlessly spooned me, snaking a delicate hand under my jerkin to rub my shoulders.

“How’s the bump on your noggin?” she asked.

“Sore, but only to the touch.”

“In the morning it will be just you and Bottom. Stay on the path north. This far into the forest, the path is used by both the fairies and the goblins, even the occasional mortal, so it’s well worn and will be easy to follow.”

“You’ll return to Titania?”

“Not to worry, we’ll find you at dusk. You just keep on the trail. We’ll be to the Night Palace by tomorrow midnight.”

“Shouldn’t we keep going tonight, then? I’ll only have two days to save Drool.”

“We need to rest. You need to rest. You won’t want to go before Oberon without your wits at their sharpest and you the full and right rascal you can be.”

“I am not a rascal.”

“It was a compliment.”

“How far from the Night Palace to Athens?”

“Less than a night’s march. We have time.”

“Good night then, good Cobweb.”

“Fancy a cuddle then?”

“No, lamb, I’m sad and knackered.”

She slid over on me and kissed my ear. “I don’t think you are. You say you are, but since you came back from Athens, you haven’t been sad at all. You were right jolly when sparring with the night queen and that Rumour bloke.”

“No. I am heartbroken.”

“I am also sad,” said Nick Bottom, from the nest perhaps ten feet above us. “And Mrs. Bottom frowns upon me frolicking with strangers.”

“Well we ain’t strangers and no one was going to frolic with you, anyway,” said Peaseblossom. “Was just having a bit of a cuddle. And now I seen that thing awake, I don’t want nothing to do with it.”

“Huge, innit?” said Moth.

“I am sad and my knob is huge,” cried Bottom, with an asinine whimper.

“Blossom, you should have a sit on this hat of tongues,” said Moth. “Oh my, this is lovely.”

“Give it,” said Peaseblossom.

“Sad and huge,” said Bottom.

“Bottom, do stop whinging about your enormous dong,” said I. “We are trying to sleep.”

“I miss Titania,” said Bottom.

“Last you saw her you were terrified of her,” I said.

“Absence makes the fond grow harder,” whispered Cobweb.

“Shhhh,” I shushed. It appeared that among the fairies, or at least

this small cohort, I had at last found my lost tribe, and they were a herd of tiny hopeless horn-beasts. And so, with equine nickers susurrating into snores on the breeze and the hushed yips of a pair of fairies sharing a hat of many tongues, with the dying fire warm on my face, and with gentle Cobweb kneading the cares of the day from my shoulders and back, I slipped softly into slumber.

When I awoke she was on me, urgent, naked, and wet—an irresistible force—sliding into my shirt with me, her face against mine, her lips on mine, her breath on my cheek, her voice in my ear saying something in a language I did not know. No jape or objection rose in my throat, no thought of repelling an ancient forest sprite or quick-witted girl, nothing feeling so far away as another being at all; I was for her, as she was for me, and that was that. I don’t know how long, but when I finally looked away from her, the fire was out, and when I looked back I could see her pulling her frock on and a dark star reflecting in her eye. I heard her smile more than I could see it. She put her hand on my cheek and kissed me on the eyebrow. “Sleep, fool.” Then one quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll find you on the morrow.”

I heard her pad off into the forest and a few seconds later, two more sets of footsteps followed her.

Time passed, I dozed, then above me I heard a rustling, and before I could get my wits about me to look out from under the willow canopy Cobweb had built over the nest, Nick Bottom crashed through it, flying in the manner of all non-winged equines, reducing the lot to a brush pile with a charming fool at its core.

“Bottom, thou flea-brained numpty, get off of me.”

“So sorry, maestro. I spotted a glowing in the distance and I stretched out of the nest to see better.”

I crawled out of the compost and pulled my kit out piece by piece. The moon was straight overhead so I was able to see a bit better than when we’d struck camp. And while Bottom’s plunge had done dire damage to the nest, he seemed to have missed my person, if only by a handbreadth.

Bottom crawled out of the pile and tested his limbs, apparently finding them in working order. “That way, maestro. You can just see the glow.” I followed his gaze, and indeed there was a bluish glow off in the forest, unfortunately not the way of the path.