In the gray light of dawn before anyone else was stirring, Meg arose and dressed as herself. She stuffed Mack’s clothes in a corner. I am no longer Mack. Nor was she Long Meg the tavern maid anymore. I am only Meg.
Hoarfrost whitened the cobbles of the innyard and she could see her breath as she set out for Shoreditch. She stopped at the Cock and Bull tavern outside the Bishopsgate to warm her hands and break her fast with some cold mutton. She listened as people came in and greeted the host. No one mentioned a prisoner named Mack who turned the tables on his accuser and revealed himself to be Long Meg. But it was early yet. She wondered how long it would take for the news to spread and grow into a tale full of lies. How soon would the curious come flocking to the Boar’s Head to the delight of Master Overby? When would Gwin realize Meg was not coming back?
She lingered in the tavern while the thought repeated itself like a stream tumbling over the same rocks: I am no longer Mack; I am only Meg. But who exactly was Meg? She pondered that vexed question and came up answerless.
When she left the Cock and Bull the morning sun was melting the hoarfrost. In the fields, flocks of noisy crows fought over the grains left over from the harvest. She rehearsed what she would say to James Burbage. “I confess our bargain was my desperate ploy to aid Will Shakespeare, who was innocent of my deceit,” she murmured. “Still, I will honor my word and join your company if you will have me.” She hoped this would avert his certain anger. Would he, however, agree to her new stipulation? “I am no longer Mack; I will be only Meg.”
She did not realize she had spoken aloud until she heard the familiar voice. “Good. Then I will always recognize you.”
Meg whirled around and was surprised to see Will. “Have you been following me?”
“Do you want me to?” He was leaning against a stile, his hand raised to shield his eyes from the morning sun.
Meg’s heart fluttered. Of course I do!
“I posted my letter to Stratford, then cut across the fields. It seems we now have the same destination.” He nodded northward.
Meg had so much she wanted to say to Will. Now his sudden presence had scattered all her words.
“Is silence then your new disguise?” He peered at her. “I preferred Mack for his better conversation.”
What could she say? That she preferred the ease of being Mack to this discomfort?
“I hardly slept last night. Tell me, Meg, was your disguise only a trick to tease me?” Will said in a rush.
The accusation jolted Meg. “No, it was not! Violetta said so only to keep Thomas from becoming jealous. It was my idea to disguise myself as Mack. Mocking you was no part of my motive.”
“What was your motive?”
“Was it not evident?” cried Meg. “I meant to help you find Davy and Peter. How could Long Meg do that?”
“But why did you feign to be my friend, who is as much a part of a man as his own heart?” Will struck his breast as he spoke.
“I only feigned to be Mack. I did not feign being your friend.”
Will crossed his arms over his chest. “That argument does not acquit you.”
Meg felt herself growing hot. “If you do not see the distinction, Will Shakespeare, you must believe that no woman can be a man’s friend.”
“A woman may be a man’s wife or his mistress. A man only can be his true friend, his second self,” argued Will, dividing the air with his hands.
“In that you are deceived,” said Meg. “And may the devil take me, for I believed Mack was mine.”
“Your friend was I, Meg de Galle. A woman!”
Will was silent, frowning like a child who thinks himself cheated of a prize.
“We ate and drank together, laughed and roamed the city in search of adventure, and aided each other in danger, did we not?” Meg demanded.
“I thought I did so with Mack, not Meg,” Will protested.
“Of course,” said Meg, exasperated. “Did you ever look closely at Meg? At me?” Meg stopped herself from pleading.
“I did. I noted your strength,” said Will. “And I asked for Meg’s help that very first night.”
“Yes, but you and I know proper women do not run after thieves or thrash villains. We do not swear or even speak in public. Can you comprehend what freedom you men have that we are denied?”
“Being a woman does not constrain you now,” Will said.
Meg grew aware of a creaking cart, a dog barking, people passing by. Did they mistake her and Will for quarreling lovers? If only an embrace were sufficient to cut through the misunderstanding between them!
“I have grown accustomed to the freedom of these limbs to move and these lips to speak as I please. But now I am only Meg again, which is almost more difficult than to be both Mack and Meg.” She felt herself on the verge of tears.
“You played Mack’s part ably,” Will said grudgingly.
Meg managed a dejected smile. “No, for Jane and Violetta saw me fail, and James Burbage knew Mack for a woman the first time he saw me.”
“Did he really?” said Will.
Meg peered at him closely. “When I declared at the trial that I was not Mack de Galle, you did not seem surprised.”
“I played the lawyer’s part well, did I not?”
“Aye, but that is not my point. How did you know? And when?”
“Old Nick Grabwill came to me the night before your trial and told me a strange story,” said Will. “It was then that I knew.”
“Did you not suspect earlier? Why did you never ask to see Mack’s lodgings or insist on meeting him at the Boar’s Head? Did you ever wonder how Meg could have a twin brother identical in all features? Either you believed we were two, or you knew we were one and the same.”
“Ask me no more, for I cannot tell you.” Will’s tone was plaintive.
“You can but you will not! I think it was you who played me for a fool.” This possibility sent a wave of shame over Meg. She turned away and started across the road only to find herself surrounded by sheep. She shoved her way through their midst, shouting back at Will, “You wanted to see how far I would go just to be in your company. All the while you were deceiving me into thinking that I was deceiving you!”
“O what a tangled web you are weaving,” cried Will. “Like a spider trying to trap me.”
Will plowed through the sheep, scattering them. He reached Meg and took her by the shoulders.
“You wrong me with such accusations, Meg. I did wonder why Mack was so like you. I watched you at the inn and admired your strength, your bold manner, and your wit. But I did not know the truth for certain.” He paused a moment. “And what if I did? You loved every moment you were in disguise. To be truthful, so did I.”
So Will had known. It no longer mattered when; Meg was mortified all the same.
“Knowing that I was a woman, you let me debase myself with brawling and drinking?” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “How you must have laughed at my pretense of being a man.”
Will put his hand solemnly to his breast. “No, I never did. You made a better man than most of my sex. But you did laugh at me, when I came back with Davy’s boots.”
Meg smiled at the thought of Will with his paltry, ruined trophies. “Didn’t you long to tell me of yours and Mack’s adventures?”
Will raised his eyebrows. “There was no need, for you took part in them.”
Meg buried her face in her hands. “O I am repaid for my deceit and fairly beaten at my own game.” She felt Will’s hands on hers and let him uncover her face.
“It was a game that required two players,” he said and joined his palms to hers. Meg felt her heart pulsing all the way to her fingertips.
“Are we reconciled now? Friends again, despite my being a woman?”
“If you were both Mack and Meg, strength and fairness united in one person,” said Will, looking up into her eyes, “then you would be this man’s perfect mate.”
“Will, I am both Mack and Meg. And I don’t mean to seem coy, but methinks you are trying to woo me.”
“Excellent creature, I am,” he said, seizing her eyes with his own and holding her gaze.
Meg’s legs turned to jelly. She wobbled, leaning against the fencerow to keep herself standing. Will leaned with her. Was he about to kiss her? Did she not want him to? His hand was touching the front of her neck where her pulse beat. It was almost more than she could bear.
“This is as dangerous as breathing the air during a plague,” said Meg, winking to break Will’s gaze.
“What do you mean? Is my breath so foul?” said Will.
“I mean you might infect me with longing,” she said softly, knowing that she must walk no farther with him lest she be drawn, like a moon, helpless into his orbit. She thought of Violetta’s wrist encircled by Valentine’s hand. Of the Hathaway sisters Will had left to pursue his ambitions. To be held or to be released; both could cause hurt.
She slipped sideways and turned to face the city.
“Were you not on your way to Shoreditch also?” said Will.
“I was. But I am done with disguising.” Meg’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Tell Burbage I cannot join his company.”
Will looked stricken. “But I have counted on this! If you do not go, then neither will I.”
“You must, Will Shakespeare. For what else would you do?”
“I can study law. A lawyer feigns like an actor and lies as well as any poet.”
“Foh! I know your ambitions. You would a hundred times rather be a lowly player than a lawyer of the Queen’s Bench. Go on without me.”
Will stood his ground. Were they about to have another argument? “And I know you would rather command the stage—as you did the streets and the law court—than wait upon drunkards at the Boar’s Head Inn. Come, show the strength of your wit as well as your arm. Don’t be afraid.”
Does Will know me so well? Better than I know myself?
“Your will and your heart are one in this,” he said with gentle urgency.
Meg was not used to heeding her heart, which hitherto had demanded so little of her. Was she strong enough to resist its sudden urges?
“You go, Will. Burbage has an idea for a play you must write. I will come and see it performed.” How dull and faint that sounded.
“But it is you he wants in his company. Without you he won’t hire me.”
“Is that the reason I must accompany you?” Meg said. “Do you mean to use me for your own benefit?”
Will drew back with a hurt look. “Does a poet exploit his muse? Nay, rather he needs her. Meg, do not divide yourself in two; be one true friend of Will Shakespeare.”
Meg felt her heart turning like a flower toward the sun. Her longing to be Will’s friend and his muse was powerful. But could Will accept her as she was?
“Henceforth the one I must be is Meg the woman,” she said firmly.
“And so you shall be. Do I not remain Will though I play Pyramus or Antony? So you can play a man’s role and be no less a woman. You can feign Cleopatra or Caesar and still be yourself, Meg de Galle.”
“What if Burbage will not let me be Meg? A player who is known to be a woman might bring trouble to his company.”
“You said he knew your sex when he offered you employment,” Will countered. “He saw what a good player you will make. I’ll warrant you’ll cause no more trouble than you can easily handle.” He winked at her.
The sun had climbed to its apex, dispelling the frost into vapor. Will’s words melted Meg’s cold fear, making her warm and malleable like soft metal. Who would she become with Will at her side offering true friendship—and perhaps more?
It was time to act while she was filled with praise and confidence. Now, before I lose my Will!
She turned around in the road and with a sweeping motion of her arm said, “Let’s dally no more in this common way, but hasten to Shoreditch without delay.”
Will almost had to run to match his stride to hers.