R.T. Raichev - Murder of Gonzago

Once more the screen went black, then the sleeping figure of the King was seen again, but he was no longer alone. Another man had entered the frame. He was young and handsome and sported a black moustache with waxed-up ends. His head was covered in romantic curls.

In his right hand the man held a tall glass painted black and decorated with what looked like a skull and crossbones. He glanced furtively to the left, and to the right. His eyes then fixed on the crown and he contemplated it for a moment or two.

‘I think I know what this is supposed to be,’ Payne said.

The man stooped over and held the black glass to the King’s ear. For a moment only the man’s back could be seen and the recumbent form was hidden from view.

‘What’s he doing?’ Lady Grylls leant forward.

‘Pouring poison into the King’s ear.’

‘Really? This rings a bell … Hamlet ?’

‘Yes. The Murder of Gonzago . The play within the play.’

The King’s body was seen jerking spasmodically upwards. The King’s eyes looked as though they were about to come out of their orbits. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Then he slumped back and lay still.

‘Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!’ Lady Grylls made the sign of the cross.

The Queen re-entered. She glanced at the King, then at the Poisoner who made a slashing gesture across his throat and smiled. The Queen’s hand went up to her mouth, then she smiled too. She crossed over to the Poisoner and the two embraced. The Poisoner then picked up the crown and placed it on his head. He and the Queen kissed again, then arm in arm they walked up and down the room. They waved royal waves.

‘How terribly interesting. The King is dead, long live the King. Who is the new King?’ Lady Grylls asked.

‘Chap called Sylvester-Sale,’ Felicity Remnant said. ‘Dr Sylvester-Sale.’

‘Look! I have an idea they are no longer acting,’ Lady Grylls said.

Dr Sylvester-Sale and Clarissa Remnant were shown gazing across at Lord Remnant’s body. Lord Remnant’s hand was hanging limply, the fingers touching the floor. Dr Sylvester-Sale went up to the chaise longue and bent over the body. Something in his manner suggested none of this was scripted.

‘No, they are no longer acting,’ said Felicity.

The doctor lifted Lord Remnant’s hand and held it by the wrist, checking the pulse. He then turned round and held up his hand; he was stopping the others from getting close. He said something. Louise Hunter was seen covering her mouth with her hand. Clarissa shook her head as though in disbelief.

‘Is Roderick dead? I mean really dead — is that how he died?’

‘It looks like it,’ Felicity said expressionlessly.

‘Heart attack? That’s what it said in The Times .’

Dr Sylvester-Sale was seen bending over the body, once more concealing it from view. He rose and said something which made Clarissa’s mouth open in a show of incredulity. Clarissa turned towards the camera. She looked cross. She waved her hands. The camera lingered on the bracelet on Clarissa’s right wrist.

Clarissa gesticulated peremptorily. The camera swirled round. Hortense Tilling was seen entering the room. She looked flustered. Basil Hunter’s expression was a mixture of dismay and disbelief. Louise Hunter looked outraged. Renee Glover’s face remained blank.

Clarissa was seen speaking to the cameraman again. There was a movement. The cameraman seemed to be walking towards Hortense Tilling, who looked at once frightened and excited. The camera jerked up and down. They saw the ceiling with its ornate plasterwork and crystal chandelier.

There was a momentary blackout and when the image reappeared, it was upside down.

‘What is going on?’ Lady Grylls asked.

‘The camera has changed hands. I think it’s Clarissa’s aunt who’s got hold of it,’ said Payne. ‘Um. I believe she has been asked to turn it off but she doesn’t seem to know how.’

‘Oh, how tiresome! It’s impossible to work out what they are doing now. No chance of turning the box over and watching it upside down, is there, my dear?’

‘Better not,’ Felicity Remnant said.

‘This is making me feel seasick. No, can’t watch it.’ Lady Grylls turned her head and rested her gaze on a picture of a particularly repulsive pug. ‘Can someone tell me what’s happening?’

‘Miss Glover is walking towards the french windows.’ Payne paused. ‘The Hunters have taken off their helmets. Dr Sylvester-Sale is scowling. Now he is putting the black glass with the skull into his pocket. It looks like an automatic gesture. There is a tall black man with them. He has the puzzled expression of a child. The original cameraman, I imagine.’

Lady Grylls spoke. ‘Roderick is not moving? He is not rising?’

‘No.’

‘So he is dead, really dead?’

‘I believe so. His death seems to have been captured on camera. Yes. Mrs Hunter is now walking towards the french window. She looks enormous -’ Payne broke off. ‘Oh. The screen’s gone black. It’s all over. The aunt seems to have managed to switch the camera off at last.’

Felicity tugged at her pearls. ‘What I am interested in ascertaining is the exact cause of my brother-in-law’s death.’

Lady Grylls frowned. ‘He had a heart attack, didn’t he? That’s what the Times obituary said. Goodness, my dear, you look as though you doubt the Times obituary! You think there is something fishy about his death?’

‘As a matter of fact I do. I have the unshakable conviction that there is something very wrong indeed.’

‘ Something is rotten in the state of Denmark ,’ Payne quoted.

‘I believe they all know what happened. The Hunters, Clarissa’s aunt, Dr Sylvester-Sale, Glover. I couldn’t help noticing that when the coffin disappeared into the furnace, they seemed incredibly relieved.’

‘You think Roderick might have been murdered like the character he played in the dumbshow staged at Hamlet’s request? What was it all about, Hughie?’ Lady Grylls turned towards her nephew. ‘All that Gonzago business. What was the reason for it?’

‘Well, Hamlet suspects his uncle Claudius of having killed his, Hamlet’s, father, in order to replace him on the throne and marry his, Hamlet’s, mother, after whom Claudius has been lusting.’

‘Oh yes. The evil uncle. It was the ghost who told Hamlet, wasn’t it? The ghost of Hamlet’s father. Remember Olivier’s Hamlet? I had a big crush on him, you know — so tantalizingly indecisive and blond. I had quite a thing about indecisive blond men at one time.’

‘Claudius pours poison into his brother’s ear as the King lies sleeping in the garden. Well, Hamlet needs proof, so he gets a troupe of itinerant actors to stage a play that shows Gonzago being killed in precisely the same manner. Claudius is in the audience and he gets up and leaves abruptly, which Hamlet — who’s been watching his uncle closely — interprets as a guilty reaction.’

‘How awfully ingenious. I don’t suppose such a person as Gonzago ever existed, did he?’

‘He did exist. The murder of Gonzago is believed to have been a reference to a real sixteenth-century murder. A Luigi Gonzaga murdered the Duke of Urbino. It seems to be generally accepted by Shakespearean scholars that Shakespeare’s plot was founded on an Italian original. The dumb players have been identified as a commedia dell’arte troupe. Well, Italians of noble birth did poison each other. They were Machiavels at heart, poisoners like the Borgias, and libertines like the Venetians.’

Lady Grylls nodded. ‘Broadening the intellectual basis of any discussion is something my nephew excels at. How he does it I have no idea, but he makes it look so terribly easy!’