L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

The clock in the hall chimed six, and Shea was startled to see Belphebe standing before him.

“Harold, darling, is it not time we were leaving for this place you call the theater? Sir Reed and Lady Florimel will be awaiting.”

“What . . . ? Oh, of course, dear,” answered Shea. “Just give me a minute to change. Is the sitter here? You are going to wear the long green dress, aren’t you?”

“Voglinda is in her care, and I shall wear the dress if you insist,” his wife said reluctantly.

“I insist!” After he had lost her favorite dress in the frozen wastes of the Finnish Kalevala , Belphebe had accepted his gifts of twentieth-century clothing only with persuasion. Tonight was a special occasion — the psychologists had been given complimentary tickets to a Shakespeare festival and Shea had picked out a lovely formal dress and matching high-heeled shoes for his wife.

“Then I drive!” she stated flatly.

He hesitated, “Uh . . . yes, dearest,” Belphebe at the wheel of their Chevrolet was something that required nerves of steel. But she had agreed to wear the dress.

* * *

They arrived at the theater intact. At no time was Shea ever in fear for his life; the lightning reflexes of his wife served her well on the streets of the city, though the driver of the Ford they passed on the hill would probably never be the same again.

The first act of The Tempest had come to an end, and now Harold stood in the crowded lobby talking to Reed Chalmers.

“Y’know, I hadn’t really thought much about it before, but the world described in this play looks like a target for our explorations.”

Chalmers frowned. “If it were based more on myth and legend. I should agree with you, but I do not believe it to be a systematic attainable universe. Shakespeare drew his material from a confusion of Greek and Roman mythology, sixteenth-century Italian pastoral drama, and God only knows what else.”

“Think a minute, Doc! Spenser’s Faerie Queene is the same sort of thing. It was based on Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso , and we managed to travel to both places.” Shea sensed that he had won his point and smiled. “A trip to Prospero’s magical island shouldn’t be difficult. It may be a Shakespearean romance, but it describes a valid parallel universe.”

A worried expression came to Chalmers’ face as he glanced furtively from side to side. “That, I fear, is exactly what worries me, Harold. In spite of my protestations, I’m sure it would be possible. Ever since the Furioso , Vaclav’s been dropping little hints. I think he might be up to something. Did you notice what he’s wearing tonight?”

“Is he here?” asked Shea.

“Indeed! Sitting two rows behind you. He looks like . . . uh . . . a fourteenth-century Italian courtier. We must have a talk with him.”

Shea nodded in agreement.

Polacek had found his dream girl in the world of Orlando Furioso , all right. True to form, however, the Czech had found two of them. And one of them had a jealous innkeeper for a husband.

Just then the lights dimmed, and Florimel and Belphebe appeared before them, stunning in their strapless gowns. The matter of Vaclav Polacek and his medieval garb would have to wait.

When they had reached their seats, Shea turned to look at the audience. Almost directly behind him, dressed in a gaudy orange silk jacket with puffy brown shoulder pads, sat the Czech. Vaclav noticed him, nodded, and smiled. Harold was not sure he liked that smile.

The play resumed, and Shea allowed himself to become immersed in the trials and tribulations of the shipwrecked king of Naples. Alonso was just saying “Prithee peace” for the second time, when the hairs on the back of Shea’s neck began to tingle.

Belphebe tugged at his arm and whispered, “My, how this play doth excite me.”

Harold began to worry. The play wasn’t that exciting, and he had felt this way before . . . Vaclav! Shea craned his neck to get a look at Polacek, but even as he turned, the crowd around him began to fade to a foggy gray. Desperately, he grabbed Belphebe’s hand and —

Pmf!

Harold and Belphebe plopped to the ground in a field of green grass.

“Oof!” remarked Belphebe. Shea looked around. They were in a broad green field surrounded by low, tree-covered hills. A fresh breeze whispered past. He shook his head in disbelief. The characters had just been talking about this place in the play.

“Shea! Belphebe!” a distressed voice cried out behind them, “what are you guys doing here? I — I had no idea . . .”

Harold climbed to his feet. There, sprawled in the grass, was Vaclav Polacek in his ludicrous costume.

“Votsy, for two cents I’d —” Shea bellowed, with murder in his eyes. “You’ve dragged us into the play!” He started ominously toward the Czech, clenching his fists.

“Honest, Harold, I didn’t mean to bring you two along. Polacek tried to scramble to his feet but Shea was on him in a flash, and the unfortunate Czech was wrestled to the ground.

“Guk, you’re choging me!” gurgled Polacek.

“If you possessed even half a brain?” raged Shea, “you’d have trouble . . .”

Belphebe intervened, pulling her husband back, “Vaclav, Harold! Stop this foolishness. Have you not better things to do than fight among yourselves?”

The Czech sat up, rubbing his neck. “I really meant to come alone, honest!”

“It’s that damn magicostatic charge.” fumed Shea “Belphebe and I are heavily charged. When you transported yourself here, you pulled us along with you. Doc Chalmers is lucky he wasn’t sitting as close to you as we were.”

Polacek picked up a book he had dropped, brushed himself off, and stood up, regarding Shea with a cautious gaze.

“So what’s the big idea, Votsy?” Shea continued. “You know the Doc doesn’t want us doing this till he’s got it perfected.”

“Look, I just figured I’d jump in here, grab the old man’s daughter and some of his magic books, and beat it back to Ohio. It was no big deal.”

“Now that’s a hell of a fine plan!” Shea said in disgust. “Prospero is one powerful magician, and he’s got invisible spirits to help him. Besides which, didn’t you think it might be a tad immoral to just kidnap someone? Just how did you propose to kidnap his daughter and steal his library anyway?”

“Hey, gimme some credit will ya? While you guys were writing reports, I’ve been busy studying this magic business pretty seriously.” Polacek held up the book “This here is the Doc’s latest symbolic magic textbook.” He thumbed through a couple pages. “And I can still read the symbols even though we’re in this continuum.”

“That’s all well and good, Votsy, but that book is full of untried theory as far as this place is concerned,” grumbled Shea.

“All tight, already,” answered Vaelav, “how’s about I send you and the Mrs. back to Ohio?” He began flipping pages.

Harold recalled the geas laid upon him in the world of Irish myth — the requirement that he change things in this world before returning to his own and sighed. “It’s no good, Votsy. We have to alter this place before we can leave.”

“Nonsense” Vaclav nudged Belphebe closer to Shea. “You two hold bands and think Ohio thoughts.” They did so and Polacek began motioning in the air with his free hand. “If either A or (B or C) is true, and C . . .”

“Wait a minute,” Shea said after a moment of thought, “even if this would work, which it won’t, because you don’t have it right, I’m not leaving you here alone.” He looked off into the hills.

Belphebe spoke: “We are indeed in a strange land, methinks the very one spoken of in the play.” Suddenly she pointed up into the sky. “Look, there!”