HORATIO

  But look, the morn in russet mantle clad

  Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastward hill.

  Break we our watch up, and by my advice

  Let us impart what we have seen tonight

  Unto young Hamlet; for upon my life

  This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.

  And then . . .

  WHACK!

  Selby was lying flat on her back on a cold stone floor. It was a freezing, black night. She was staring straight up at the sky. There were no stars, but she could make out clouds whipping across with the wind, giving the occasional glimpse of the moon.

  ‘Where am I?’ she whispered.

  A hand grasped hers. Selby flinched, but when she turned, it was Dan. He was collapsed on the ground a short distance from her.

  ‘Selby?’ he said. There was panic in his eyes. ‘Where are we?’

  3

  Another World

  Selby looked about. She could barely see anything in the dark, but everything was wrong. It was cold. It was damp. It was night-time.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Selby. They appeared to be on top of a stone fortification, like an old castle. Over the sound of the wind, she could make out waves crashing in the distance. ‘I can hear the sea.’

  ‘It’s freezing,’ said Dan. He was only wearing a t-shirt and denim jacket. That was nothing to this biting cold.

  The wind was making her eyes water. There was so little light. How could she be sitting on top of a stone wall? There were no stone buildings in town. And what little she could see looked like battlements. There was a long narrow walkway and a wall lined with turrets. Like something out of a Robin Hood movie. A wall built for archers or cannons to fire between the stonework.

  Selby was starting to feel very frightened. This was wrong. Very wrong. ‘We’ve got to get back,’ said Selby.

  ‘But what happened?’ asked Dan. ‘How did we get here? How do we go back?’

  Selby sat up and started to feel about with her hands. She was trying to find a door or a passageway, perhaps something that they had somehow fallen through.

  She was already frightened and panicked, but as she crouched on the ground a growing sense of horrible dread washed over her. It had nothing to do with the strange situation she found herself in. It was a visceral response to something wrong. She had never been so afraid.

  Selby tried to calm herself. There was nothing to fear. It was just darkness and cold. And yet Selby felt a looming sense of doom like nothing she’d ever known before. Cold, horrible feelings washed over her. Adrenalin started to surge in her veins. Selby wanted to run. But where to in this strange place and complete darkness? She was already cold but now she was so viscerally terrified she felt like she had pins and needles. She finally understood what the expression to have your ‘hair stand on end’ felt like.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked Dan.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Dan, his voice quavering. He couldn’t hide his fear. ‘You feel it too?’

  Then Selby saw it. ‘Look!’ she said in a terrified whisper. There was something coming towards them, from behind Dan. Something glowing. A light. But normally light is comforting in the dark when you’re afraid. This pale shimmering shape was ominous.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Dan.

  The shape was coming towards them, growing larger. ‘It looks like a man,’ said Selby, squinting into the roiling black night, trying to see in spite of the wind in her eyes.

  The sense of dread grew stronger as the light approached.

  ‘We should get out of here,’ said Dan.

  He pulled Selby back with him, but they didn’t manage to scramble far in the darkness before they found themselves backed into a corner in the battlements.

  Selby was so frightened now she could barely move. They could see the shape more clearly. It was a man, an older man, wearing military armour and he was lumbering towards them at a steady, resigned pace. He must have been able to see them, but he did not seem interested. He looked straight through them.

  As he drew closer, they could see it was not really a man. They could see right through him. He was only shimmering light in the form of a man.

  Selby knew what she was looking at. ‘It’s a ghost,’ she whispered.

  Dan wrapped his arm around Selby and pulled her in close to the corner with him so they were crouched down tight up against the wall. They held their breaths and waited to see how the ghost would respond to them. But it never looked down, even though it passed by less than a metre away.

  As the ghost moved further away, the feeling of dread eased. Selby gulped in a huge calming breath. She shakily pushed off Dan’s arm and got to her feet, watching the ghost disappear in the dark distance.

  ‘I know where we are,’ said Dan. He was still crouched in the corner. He appeared to be in shock.

  Selby could barely hear him over the wind, ‘What?’

  ‘Look out!’ said Dan.

  There was the sound of running footsteps, but Selby had no time to turn before something big slammed into her. She was knocked off her feet and crashed into the ground. Her first thought was she had been attacked by a wild animal, but she soon realised it was a man.

  The man was much bigger than her, which wasn’t saying much. Selby was hardly tall. She had been winded by the fall. Now she couldn’t move under his weight. He was panting heavily. He pushed himself up and in the dim light she got a glimpse of his face. He was young – perhaps only a couple of years older than Dan – and he was good-looking. Although all Selby really noticed was his eyes. He had piercing blue eyes. Selby found herself staring into them as he stared back. This young man looked haunted and grief-stricken.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Selby.

  ‘What are you?’ the young man choked out in a hoarse voice. He sounded frightened too. ‘Some sort of temporal being, sent by the devil to haunt my waking hours? Or an angel, sent to guide me in my troubles?’

  ‘I’m Selby,’ said Selby. She would have liked to have gotten up. It was embarrassing to be having a conversation when you were pressed against the ground. ‘I’m no-one special.’

  ‘Nay, I’ll not believe that,’ said the young man.

  ‘MURDER!’

  A horrible, sonorous voice bellowed out from behind them. The sound echoed off the stonework and whipped about them on the wind. The young man sprang to his feet and took off in the direction of the cry. Selby scrambled up. She watched him run over to the ghost. He slowed as he drew near and knelt in front of it.

  Selby started to follow. Dan grabbed her arm. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘He might need help,’ said Selby.

  Dan went with her as she drew closer.

  The ghost spoke again in a slow ponderous voice. ‘If thou didst ever thy dear father love . . .’

  ‘Oh God!’ whimpered the young man.

  ‘. . . Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder,’ ordered the ghost.

  ‘Murder?’ said the young man. He seemed astonished and frightened.

  ‘Murder most foul,’ said the ghost.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Selby.

  ‘Shhh,’ said Dan. ‘Listen.’

  ‘Sleeping within my orchard,’ explained the ghost. ‘My custom always of the afternoon. Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole. With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial. And in the porches of my ears did pour the leperous distilment.’

  Selby could not believe what she was overhearing. ‘Did he just say that he died because someone poured poison in his ear?’ asked Selby. ‘Would that even work? I’ve watched a lot of CSI and crime shows. That does not sound plausible.’

  ‘Shhh,’ said Dan, pointing at the ghost, encouraging her to keep listening to that conversation.

  ‘Mine uncle?’ asked the young man.

  ‘Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,’ accused the ghost. ‘Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there . . .’

  ‘Hamlet?!’ exclaimed Selby. Luckily the wind was so loud and Hamlet was far enough away he didn’t overhear. Or did overhear and was too consumed by the presence of his father’s ghost. Selby turned to Dan in shock. ‘That’s Hamlet? The Hamlet? The Prince of Denmark?’

  ‘We must be inside the play,’ whispered Dan.

  ‘How can we be inside a play?’ asked Selby.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Dan. ‘But we are. There’s Hamlet and his father, the ghost. This is the castle of the Danish king. We’re standing on the battlements of Castle Elsinore! It’s all so real.’

  There was no denying it – the stonework, the wind, the biting cold and the horror of the ghost. These weren’t things of dreams. These couldn’t be imagined. They could only be experienced. And what Selby was experiencing didn’t just feel real. It was real.

  They turned back to listen to the conversation again. The ghost was describing his own murder. ‘In an instant, sores formed about my smooth body with vile and loathsome crust,’ spoke the ghost. ‘Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother’s hand – of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched.’

  ‘Oh villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!’ exclaimed Hamlet. He clutched at his own ears as if to block the terrible truth, too horrified to hear the details of his father’s death.

  The ghost was looking out to the horizon. The soft red glow of daybreak was beginning to form. ‘The glow worm shows the morning to be near. Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me.’ The ghost disappeared fading into the night.

  ‘Remember thee?’ said Hamlet. ‘Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat in this distracted globe. I’ll remember thee.’

  ‘This is crazy,’ Selby whispered to Dan.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dan. ‘That’s pretty much the theme of the play.’

  ‘Did you just go into tutor mode?’ asked Selby.

  ‘I told you if you saw the play performed live it would make more sense to you,’ said Dan.

  Hamlet was walking back towards them. As he drew close, Selby could see that he was shaking with agitation and fear. He was probably having the world’s biggest adrenalin rush too.

  ‘Thou art still here?’ said Hamlet. He seemed awed by Selby. He reached out and touched her on the side of her face as if testing that she was real.

  ‘I feared you were an apparition too,’ said Hamlet. ‘I hoped an angel.’

  ‘I’m just a normal girl,’ said Selby.

  ‘I pray ’tis true,’ said Hamlet. He grasped her hand, holding her fingers in his. ‘Thou art so fair. Art thou a nymph? If so, remember me in your prayers. I shall need the prayers of all good souls.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Selby. She didn’t really understand him, and she was wildly uncomfortable that someone so good-looking was holding her hand and staring into her eyes, but it seemed easiest just to agree.

  Suddenly, Hamlet’s attitude changed. Like he was snapping back into business mode. ‘Yea, from the table of my memory I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records.’ He took a step away from Selby and turned back to where he had seen his father’s ghost, as if to talk to him again. ‘And thy commandment all alone shall live within the book and volume of my brain, unmixed with baser matter – yea, by heaven!’

  ‘I’m not following this,’ Selby whispered to Dan.

  ‘He’s giving himself a talking to,’ Dan explained quietly. ‘Hamlet does this a lot throughout the play. He’s saying he’s got to forget about everything else and focus on avenging his father’s death.’

  ‘Right,’ said Selby. ‘It doesn’t sound like a healthy father-son relationship. I’m pretty sure my dad would not expect Eric to kill our uncle if he thought he had been murdered.’

  ‘Isn’t your uncle a hedge-fund analyst in Singapore?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Yeah, not really the murderous type,’ said Selby.

  Hamlet turned back to them. He clasped her by the shoulder. Selby winced. Hamlet had really strong hands and he was gripping her tightly.

  ‘You must swear to me,’ urged Hamlet, ‘that you will say nothing of what you have seen here tonight.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Selby. ‘No-one would believe me if I tried.’

  ‘Swear it,’ ordered Hamlet, shaking her slightly by the shoulder. The fear was wearing off and his eyes were starting to burn with intensity. Selby didn’t really like the way he was giving her an order.

  ‘Okay,’ said Selby. ‘I swear.’

  Hamlet seemed to sense her reluctance. He suddenly drew his sword. ‘Swear on my sword!’ he demanded.

  Selby bristled. She was generally a very easygoing person, but deep down she was a feminist, and she did not like being given an order by a man. Especially not one who was, however unconsciously, being physically intimidating. The worst part about the order was his clear expectation that she would follow it.

  ‘You didn’t say the magic word,’ said Selby.

  ‘Selby, just do as he says,’ urged Dan.

  Hamlet noticed Dan for the first time. It was really dark and Dan did have dark skin. He was easy to miss in the shadows.

  ‘Who’s this?’ demanded Hamlet, turning his sword and pointing it at Dan’s throat.

  ‘Hey,’ protested Selby. ‘Don’t do that. He’s a friend.’

  ‘How can I be sure?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘You can’t,’ said Selby, grabbing hold of Dan and pulling him behind her. ‘But you can’t kill everyone you meet on the off chance you won’t get along with them later.’

  ‘You are from a distant land,’ said Hamlet, eyeing Dan.

  ‘I am Selby’s servant,’ said Dan.

  ‘What?’ said Selby.

  Dan kicked the side of her foot and raised his eyebrows. He clearly wanted her to go along with this. But Selby wasn’t going to go along with pretending that Dan was a servant just because he was of African heritage.

  ‘Dan is my tutor,’ said Selby. ‘A wise man and an educator.’

  ‘So you are fellow student,’ said Hamlet. This seemed to please him. He lowered his sword. ‘I am on leave from the university at Wittenberg. I came home to bury my father.’ He turned to glance back at the spot where he had been talking to his father’s ghost.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ said Selby.

  ‘It is an honest ghost, that, let me tell you,’ said Hamlet. But from the beseeching look in his eye, he seemed to be convincing himself more than her. Hamlet held out his sword again, but in a less threatening gesture. This time, even though he did not say please, he at least sounded like he was asking, not ordering. ‘Swear you will not say a word of what you have seen here. Mine uncle must not know of this.’

  ‘SWEAR!’ The ghost’s voice suddenly bellowed out. The stonework shook with the unnatural force. Selby, Dan and Hamlet were physically shaken, hit by the shock wave of sound.

  ‘Do as it says,’ pleaded Hamlet. A hysterical smile was coming to his face. ‘Swear it.’

  Selby could see that this was all too much for the young prince. He was not coping. He looked like he could cry or laugh, or do both simultaneously. She reached out and covered his hand on the hilt of the sword. ‘I swear,’ she said.

  Hamlet looked at Dan. ‘Swear it.’

  Dan reached out too. ‘I swear,’ he said.

  The rumbling from the ghost’s cry drew silent. The only sound was the wind.

  ‘There are stranger things in heaven and earth than in our imaginations, Selby,’ muttered Hamlet.

  ‘I know,’ Selby said kindly. ‘Come on, let’s get you inside out of the cold. This is a lot to take in. You’re probably going to go into shock. And if you don’t, I will.’

  ‘Ay,’ said Hamlet. ‘The time is out of joint. Oh cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right.’

  Hamlet started heading back along the battlements towards the staircase that lead down to the castle. Dan and Selby followed behind him. But as they reached the spot where they had first arrived, Selby grabbed Dan’s jacket sleeve.

  ‘This is it,’ said Selby.

  ‘What?’ said Dan.

  ‘The spot where we arrived,’ said Selby, she dropped to her hands and knees and started feeling the floor. ‘There must be some sort of porthole that we came through. We need to find it and get back to the bookstore.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ protested Dan.

  Selby looked up.

  ‘We can’t go back,’ said Dan. ‘We’re in Hamlet.’

  4

  Crossroads

  ‘We’ve got to get back,’ whispered Selby. ‘I don’t want to stay trapped in a time when antibiotics, electric lighting and television haven’t been invented yet.’

  ‘What is it with you and television?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Nothing like this ever happened to me from watching television,’ said Selby.

  ‘Don’t blame the play,’ said Dan.

  ‘Fine, I’ll blame you,’ said Selby. ‘You made me read the play.’

  ‘But this is amazing,’ said Dan. ‘We’re here with Hamlet! We’re on top of the castle in Elsinore with the Prince of Denmark.’

  ‘Now is not the time to nerd out on me,’ said Selby, shaking his arm as though she was trying to wake him from a dream.

  ‘This is amazing. We’re in a world created by Shakespeare,’ marvelled Dan.

  ‘That’s not even possible,’ said Selby. ‘I refuse to believe it. I must be having a brain haemorrhage or a stroke. That’s the only logical explanation.’

  ‘Am I having a stroke too?’ asked Dan. ‘Because I’m experiencing the exact same visual and auditory delusion.’

  ‘No, you don’t exist either,’ said Selby. ‘You’re just another one of my stroke symptoms.’

  Dan pinched her on the arm.

  ‘Ow!’ said Selby. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Do stroke symptoms pinch?’ asked Dan.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Selby. ‘I’ve never had a stroke before.’ She stomped hard on his foot.