Margaret Atwood - Hag-Seed

“There. That’s our report. Antonio acts like what you’d expect him to do, and Prospero doesn’t see it coming because he never saw it coming the first time. We know this is not a nice ending for a lot of the people in this play, but we wanted to tell the truth in some kind of real way, and this is what it’s like, this is what happens. Antonio is evil, what d’you expect? Thanks, guys,” he says to the rest of Team Antonio, “for helping us stick to life the way it is, no sugar-coating.” With the same defiant swagger, he returns to his seat. The class is silent.

“Excellent,” says Felix. “You did a thorough job, and I can’t say I dispute your conclusions, unpleasant though they are.” Is there to be no mercy for Antonio? he wonders. It appears not. Shakespeare was not merciful either: after Prospero forgives him, Antonio is not awarded any more lines in the play.

“It’s harsh,” says Anne-Marie.

“Yeah. Life is harsh,” says SnakeEye.

“I think Team Antonio deserves full marks,” says Felix to the room. “Don’t you?”

Nods and murmurs. The rest of them don’t like this story: it’s not a happy ending, and it contains no redemption. But all things considered they have to agree.

“What might save Prospero and Miranda?” says Felix. “And Caliban,” he adds.

PPod puts up his hand. “The sailors,” he says. “Maybe them. The Boatswain. He could do it.”

“Maybe,” says Felix. “It’s not out of the question.”

The class relaxes: a door of hope has opened. They like doors of hope. But then, who doesn’t?

Felix consults his list. “Next up is Team Gonzalo,” he says. “Bent Pencil?”

But as Bent Pencil is gathering his papers together, Anne-Marie strides to the front. “If you don’t mind,” she says, “I have something to add. I know I don’t get marks or cigarettes or anything, but I’ve been a part of this production, and by the way it was a pleasure working with all of you, but I need to say I can’t let this rest. Felix? Mr. Duke?”

She’s requesting permission, but that’s a formality: it’s clear she’ll get whatever it is out of her system in any case. “Forge ahead,” says Felix with an indulgent smile.

“You’re talking as if Miranda is just a rag doll. As if she’s just lying around with her legs open, draping herself over the furniture like wet spaghetti with a sign on her saying, Rape Me . But it wouldn’t be like that.

“First off, she’s a strong girl. She hasn’t been tied up in corsets and stuffed into glass slippers and such at court. She’s a tomboy; she’s been clambering all over that island since she was three. Second, ever since Caliban tried to pull that rape number on her when she was maybe twelve, Prospero had to have been training her in self-defense, in case it happened again when he wasn’t around. By the time she’s on that ship to Naples she’s got a lot of fast moves, all the better because those puffed-up gentlemen wouldn’t be expecting that kind of fight-back from her. She’s got some muscles too — look at the way she was heaving those logs around so Ferdinand didn’t have to.

“But there’s more. Prospero already said that he educated Miranda beyond what other girls like her would learn. But we aren’t told what he was teaching her, apart from how to play chess, plus she knows what a womb is. My guess is, it was a bit of magic. She’s certainly heard about spirits and maybe even seen some, because she thinks Ferdinand is one, and she’s aware of other examples of what Prospero can do with his sorcerer powers, such as keeping Caliban in line. What do you think the girl was up to when Prospero was having his afternoon snoozes? She was hitting the books — Prospero’s books! Like father, like daughter — she had the gift, she was learning the skills.

“But there’s even more. She has a side deal with Ariel. Here’s how she worked it. You know that song you all thought was so stupid? ‘Where the bee sucks there suck I, In a cowslip’s bell I lie…’ Right. It does sound stupid. But the cowslips and bee stuff was what Ariel said he wanted to do once he had a choice. So Miranda heard that, and she took the precaution of digging up every single cowslip on the island and taking them all onboard with her. Her entire cabin was filled with cowslips! And since Ariel had a thing for bees, she used the enchanted bee on her arm”—Anne-Marie rolls up her sleeve, shows them her bee tattoo—“she uses some of the magic she’s been studying from Prospero’s books to create the illusion of a whole hive of bees. It’s like a charm for Ariel, it’s like an addiction, it’s like a drug! He has to follow her, help her out. Then he gets his fix: cowslips and bees.”

Ingenious girl, thinks Felix. She’ll go far, but far in what? “They’re only illusory bees,” he says. “An illusion of bees.”

“So what? Ariel doesn’t care,” says Anne-Marie. “It’s the same thing for him: the illusory is real.”

“This make any sense to you, Ariel?” Felix says to 8Handz. “Were you in on this, ah, this amendment?”

“I didn’t think it up,” says 8Handz. “But it sounds good. Why not? It’s cool.”

“This is how it really goes down with Antonio,” says Anne-Marie. “When he makes his move.” She peels off her shirt, kicks off her boots, slips off her jeans: she’s in her dancer’s skin-tight top, her green satin shorts. Up on her toes she stretches, down go her hands onto the floor. She straightens, stands on one foot, grasps the other foot behind her, extends her arm: archer pose. She’s hooked every man in the room.

Now, both feet on the floor again, she leans forward, cups one ear, listening. “The two murderous villains approach Alonso’s cabin. But Ariel sees them and warns Miranda, and she tells him to guard the cabin with lightning until she can get there. When she arrives on the scene, Ferdinand is trying to fight them off, but he’s losing. So Miranda wades in, and with one high kick she breaks Sebastian’s wrist.” Anne-Marie demonstrates. She executes three pirouettes, does a swift arabesque, then lashes up and out with her right foot, heel first.

There’s a subdued cheer from the class: they’re leaning forward, and no wonder, thinks Felix. If he were their age he’d be leaning forward too. Actually, he is leaning forward.

“That’s Sebastian’s sword hand,” says Anne-Marie, “but he’s got a dagger in his other hand, and Antonio has a sword and a dagger. And now here’s Caliban, claws out, so it’s three to two, and Ferdinand’s bleeding. So Miranda calls in the heavy artillery. Goddess Power!”

She pirouettes across the room to her large tapestry bag, whips it open. Out come Iris, Ceres, and Juno in their woolly knitwear, only now their eyeballs are painted an opaque white. She’s got them rigged up with harnesses and attached to long thin strips of leather. “First, Iris! To the attack!” She whirls Iris around her head like a bolo. “Wham! Take that, Antonio! She’s flying away with his sword! Now Ceres! Now Juno!” She twirls them around in a figure-eight. “Get ’em, Goddesses! The two of them go for it! Goddess Power, right in the nuts! Ssss-bam! Shriveled up like raisins! So much for your little rape project for today, fellas!”

“Suck it, Toni-o!” calls PPod, and the rest of them cheer.

“But she still has to deal with Caliban. He lunges, leering and drooling. Watch out, creep!” Anne-Marie tosses the goddesses back into her knitting bag, springs up on top of Felix’s desk, and stands poised on the edge. Then she bends her knees, raises her hands above her head, and does a 360-twist backflip onto the floor. Now she’s horizontal, scissoring her legs, crossing them, rolling, sitting up, all smooth as iron caramel. It’s a move from her Kidd Pivot routine.