I warned you our story would be all about love, and adventure, and magic, and murder plots. Yes, murder plots – for there were two of those – two wicked plots that transformed this beautiful, peaceful island into a place of violent and murderous thoughts.
One, as you already know, was hatched by Caliban and his new-found friends. You’ll hear all about that soon! The other, which was hatched against King Alonso, is the one I’ll tell you about first. So, let me take you to the shore where King Alonso, his brother Sebastian, and Prospero’s brother Antonio were shipwrecked, along with Gonzalo and two courtiers called Adrian and Francisco.
Now, as soon as you hear the name Antonio, you’ll probably guess who was behind this piece of wickedness. For hadn’t Antonio as good as murdered his own brother, Prospero, and his innocent child? And if you consider why Antonio had stooped so low – because he was consumed with greed and the lust for power – that will give you a clue to his motives.
For he was still greedy and ambitious, and would stop at nothing to achieve his goal. This time, though, his ambition wasn’t for himself, but for his old friend Sebastian. He wanted him to become King of Naples. But, make no mistake, Antonio wasn’t just thinking of Sebastian’s welfare! Oh no – he knew he would benefit, too! After all, if you can’t be king yourself, isn’t being the king’s close friend the next best thing?
So now let’s have a good look at those men – for they’re certainly worth looking at! They’re the richest and most important men in Italy, and they’re quite a sight to see in their fine wedding clothes. Let me help you picture them.
First, down there on the sand, is King Alonso. He’s richly dressed but, oh, he doesn’t look much like a great king any more. He’s been driven half-mad with grief, and who can blame him? He’s just said goodbye to his daughter Claribel, who’s married an African king, so there’s little chance he’ll see her again. And now, to crown it all, he thinks his dear son Ferdinand – his pride and joy and heir to his throne – is drowned. No wonder he’s in no mood to listen to good old Gonzalo.
Gonzalo is gazing round at the island in wonder and, as always, he sees everything that’s good about it. That’s what Gonzalo’s like – he looks on the bright side of things. No wonder my master loved him. He just can’t get over how bright and fresh their clothes are, after all they’ve been through. It’s as though the sea has actually improved them, he says. How clever of him to notice my sea-change! No one else did.
I must say, he’s got quite an imagination, this old man. Now he’s imagining himself as king of the island, and getting quite carried away at the thought of it. What a true Paradise it could be, with King Gonzalo in charge. There would be no need for laws because everyone would be free to live exactly as they wanted; there would be no machines, no money, no work. Everyone would be equal and live in harmony with Nature. It would be idyllic!
And all this time, while Gonzalo’s weaving his little fantasies, Antonio and Sebastian are poking fun at him. They’re like a couple of schoolboys, making a fool of him every time he opens his mouth. They’re enjoying having a laugh at the old man’s expense, and maybe it seems like good, clean fun. But don’t be fooled. There’s something sinister about that boyish laughter. Those two may sound good-natured, but underneath their smiles, they’re capable of the most profound evil, as you’re about to see. For now I play my music, and as my magic melody floats towards them on the sea-breeze, they breathe in its enchantment…
As soon as King Alonso, Gonzalo, and the courtiers hear the first notes, they’re overcome by drowsiness. Gonzalo and the courtiers give in to my sleepy magic at once, but Alonso – though he would love to escape from his sad thoughts – is afraid to sleep. He is a king, after all, and responsible for all his subjects. Who knows what dangers lurk in this strange land?
Little does King Alonso know that the greatest danger of all is right under his royal nose! His friend and ally Antonio and his own brother Sebastian are not what they seem. Just listen to how that cunning snake Antonio slyly offers to protect his king:
We two, my lord
Will guard your person while you take your rest
And watch your safety.
Don’t be like King Alonso! Don’t trust Antonio’s words for a second! There he is, that too-trusting king, curled up beside Gonzalo, fast asleep and at peace at last. Now listen again to Antonio. Listen, and you’ll hear what a clever persuader he is.
See how slowly, slowly his smooth words, like water dripping onto a rock, wear down his friend Sebastian as he persuades him to enter into a murder plot. I think you’ll agree that although it’s evil, it’s brilliant. First of all, hear how he gets Sebastian’s attention and turns his thoughts to murder:
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Clever, isn’t he? Sebastian can hardly believe what he’s hearing. He thinks he must be having some weird, waking dream. But you can be sure he knows what Antonio’s hinting at. You can be sure that he’s imagining a crown on his head, too.
Now Antonio puts the next bit of his plan into action. He begins to talk about Ferdinand – remember, he’s the true heir to the throne – and he tells Sebastian there’s no hope that Ferdinand’s still alive.
’Tis as impossible that he’s undrowned
As he that sleeps here, swims
he says.
Then the crafty fox goes on to talk about Ferdinand’s sister Claribel – because if he’s dead, she’s the next in line to the throne. Listen as he tells Sebastian how far away she is. Oh how shamelessly he exaggerates! It’s true that Claribel is far away in Tunisia, but Antonio says she’s so far away that the journey would take as long as it takes a baby to grow into a man!
See the spark of interest in Sebastian’s eyes? How it glints and grows. His breath’s coming faster as he listens and begins to realise that these dreams could become a reality. After all, when it comes to getting rid of relations who stand in the way of your ambition, no one is a bigger expert than Antonio. He’s done it all before and reaped the rewards!
However, there’s one question Sebastian has to ask, and it’s a question any decent person would:
But for your conscience?
For just a few moments, King Alonso is safe; for Sebastian’s question means he could never live with himself if he murdered his own brother. But Antonio’s too clever to admit to feeling any guilt. His face is a picture of scorn, and he doesn’t take long to answer. He doesn’t need to wonder whether his conscience bothers him. Of course it doesn’t!
If my conscience was a blister on my toe, he tells Sebastian. I’d just put on slippers!
And with that problem out of the way, Antonio’s hand is twitching to draw his sword and do the deed. Any minute now, he knows, the sleepers could wake up. Listen carefully, for here comes his masterstroke:
He offers to do the killing! How clever is that? He tells Sebastian that all he has to do is get rid of the feeble old Gonzalo. It would, of course, be too risky to let him live for, unlike the others, he’d be sure to want justice done.
Now what do you think? Don’t you almost admire Antonio? What a wicked genius he is, for the one thing that might change Sebastian’s mind would be the thought of doing the deed. After all, killing your own brother is a terrible thing to do, no matter what the rewards, if you have a conscience.
That was when I intervened, for at that moment the would-be murderers raised their swords and prepared to strike. Invisible as the air, I floated close to Gonzalo, and sang my song into his ear:
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed conspiracy
His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber and beware.
Awake, awake!
Softly and gently, my music weaved its magic around his dreams, alerting him to danger, and waking him.
I had to wake Gonzalo, of course. Prospero would never, ever have let his old friend be harmed. And when I did, I can tell you all hell broke loose! The moment Gonzalo opened his eyes and saw Antonio and Sebastian with their swords drawn, he cried out and shook the king awake. (That kind old man would think of the king’s safety before his own.)
For a moment Antonio and Sebastian must have thought they’d been found out. But you won’t be surprised to hear that they managed to worm their way out of trouble. Looking as innocent as new-born babies, they said they’d heard a dreadful bellowing and, thinking bulls or lions were coming, had bravely rushed to defend the sleeping king. What a devious trickster Antonio was, and how willing Sebastian was to be led astray. And those villains got away with it, too.
No sooner had King Alonso woken, than his thoughts turned back to Ferdinand; he was anxious to move away from danger and look for him. He was almost sure it would be a pointless search, but there was still a tiny glimmer of hope inside his heart.
And there, for the time being, we’ll leave him; for now I’m going to tell you about the second murder plot: the plot against Prospero, hatched by Caliban and his two new friends. But, before I do, I must introduce you properly to Caliban. He’s a strange character and an important one, so you should know him well.
How can I describe him? Well, let’s say that if you saw Caliban’s twisted tree-root of a body and his big, clawed feet, I’m sure you’d think you’d seen a monster. And I daresay if you smelt him, you’d think he was monstrously smelly. Certainly, he’s a rough, earthy fellow with no airs and graces and – some would say – little in the way of finer feelings. Yet, even now, I often find myself wondering how he is and what he’s doing.
Caliban, you see, could be considered lord of this isle. It had, after all, belonged to his mother, Sycorax, before she died. And, for all his roughness, perhaps Caliban really is the best ruler it could have. He understands it, you see. From the time he could crawl, he knew where to find the best berries, and the tastiest salt, and the sweetest water; and when Prospero and Miranda arrived and took charge, he happily shared all his knowledge with them. Surprisingly, at first, Caliban didn’t mind doing all their tough, dirty work; and when Prospero and Miranda started to teach him how to speak their language, he was a willing pupil.
It came to a dreadful end though, when Miranda grew into a beautiful young girl. You see, Caliban had the idea that he, as king of the island, should have her as his queen. And one look at Caliban makes it clear that this was not a choice Miranda or her father was going to make. Miranda, after all, is a beauty; and Caliban – for better or for worse – is a beast.
Once Prospero realised what Caliban wanted – a wife and family – he was both shocked and furious. He was afraid for his daughter’s safety, too, and so he shut Caliban up in a cave and only allowed him out to work. He treated him like an animal and, in return, Caliban acted like one.
Beast though Caliban was, I believe he did want to learn. He remembered things he’d been taught by Prospero and Miranda, you see – like the names of the stars, and the story of the man in the moon. Perhaps, if Prospero had given him more time, Caliban would have learned and understood much more. Perhaps, if things had been different, he could have sung my songs – for he always loved my music. But Caliban didn’t learn enough. Here’s what he said about the ‘language’ Prospero and Miranda had tried so hard to teach him:
You taught me language, and my profit on’t
Is, I know how to curse.
Oh yes – I’ll say that for Caliban – he was mighty good at cursing! And on the afternoon of our story, when the tempest was over but the sky was still grey, he was in as foul a mood as ever he had been. How he cursed Prospero! This is what he said:
All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prospero fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease. His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse.
Dreadful, isn’t it? If Caliban had had the power, he’d surely have infected our master with the worst diseases he could conjure up. For Caliban was always angry that he was kept prisoner by Prospero and treated so badly by him.
Although Caliban and I were both Prospero’s slaves, you see, our lives couldn’t have been more different. My work was all magic, enchantments, music and wild flights of fancy, whereas Caliban’s was just hard labour – gathering logs, mostly, to keep Prospero’s cave cosy. It was hardly the kind of work you could be inspired by and, oh, he did it so unwillingly! He grudged Prospero every splinter of that firewood, and it’s easy to see why. For Caliban was king of the isle, wasn’t he? So when you look at it like that – a king being made into a slave by a man who’s taken over his kingdom – is it any wonder Caliban was furious? Is it any wonder he did his work slowly and with as many foul curses as he possibly could? And, believe me, every time he cursed, or refused to do what he was told, he was horribly punished.
Prospero had to punish Caliban, for he had no reward of freedom with which to bribe him, as he had with me. Caliban could only have his freedom if Prospero left the island. Or if Prospero died…
Which brings us to the second murder plot, which Caliban hatched against Prospero and which – be warned – was monstrously brutal, monstrously vicious and, above all, monstrously stupid.
Now, to set the scene, I provided a most dramatic sound effect. Imagine hearing Caliban’s curse, roared in as furious a voice as you’ve ever heard, followed by an earsplitting crack of thunder. How splendidly loud were my booms! Mercilessly, I rumbled down on the poor, angry monster, as he trudged along with his load of logs, growling and grumbling all the while. And, of course, my thunder made Caliban’s foul mood a hundred times fouler! He just couldn’t help letting out a string of curses.
He knew, of course, he’d be punished later because, even if Prospero wasn’t within earshot, there were always spirits hiding under stones, beneath leaves, within flowers. They’d tell Prospero, for sure, and then the punishments would come as surely as rainbows follow sun-showers!
Unfair, wasn’t it? Think what it must have been like to be Caliban…
You do something wrong one day, and that night you’re pinched all over with sharp pains so you can’t sleep. Next day, you’re so exhausted you work too slowly, and this time you’re pushed into a muddy swamp.
And those little spirits that Prospero keeps all over the island could change their shapes like me (though not as expertly). So your next punishment could be a great crowd of apes pulling horrible faces, chattering at the tops of their voices, and then biting you.
Or, if you think that’s bad, how do you fancy having hedgehogs appear under your bare feet as you’re dragging your firewood along, and driving their spikes into your soles?
Or being wound all round by adders that squeeze you tight, and then sway to and fro in front of your face, flicking their tongues in and out, and hissing into your ears till you feel you’ll go mad?
It was certainly no fun being Caliban.
Let’s take a closer look: here he is, cursing fit to burst and then dreading the consequences, and here am I, thundering down on him. And then, just as he thinks the day can’t get any worse, the most hideous spirit he has ever seen appears.
Now this spirit’s a bit odd… He walks on two legs, or rather he sways from side to side – for he’s been shipwrecked and hasn’t quite found his land-legs yet. He wears a red-and-yellow suit and a red-and-yellow hat with three points, and to each point there’s a little bell attached. He’s scared out of his wits and, because he’s just escaped from the sea, he doesn’t want another drenching. So he’s eyeing the black cloud overhead and thinking miserably that it reminds him of a big barrel of wine, just about to pour its contents on top of his silly head.
Yes, I’m sure you’ve guessed – it’s not a spirit at all. It’s the first of those two clowns I told you about. It’s Trinculo, King Alonso’s jester, washed up from the shipwreck. He hasn’t a clue where he is, and he could certainly do with a drink to calm his frayed nerves!
And this is where the comedy begins, for Caliban, terrified by the sight of the ‘spirit’, has crawled under a piece of old sheeting that’s lying washed up on the beach, and now Trinculo sees him. Or rather he sees a large, smelly cloak with a pair of large, smelly clawed feet sticking out from under it, and he decides to investigate. When he does; he sees he’s made quite a discovery!
Look how excited Trinculo is. He’s found a monster – half-man, half-fish. What a find! See how his greedy eyes sparkle, for no sooner has he decided that’s what Caliban is than he’s planning how much money he can make out of him. What a rogue that jester is. He’s rubbing his hands together with glee as he imagines how much people back home will pay to see this freak. It’s better than a bearded lady, or a giant, or a baby with two heads. He’ll make his fortune.
Of course I know what he’s up to and I’m going to make life difficult for him – so what do I do? I thunder again! And, just as I’d hoped, Trinculo, who doesn’t want another soaking, crawls under Caliban’s cloak. Imagine it! One large, fishy-smelling cloak with one pair of large, smelly Caliban-feet sticking out one end, and one pair of small, red-and-yellow Trinculo-feet sticking out the other. The stage is set for the entry of the second clown, and what a clown he is.
Enter Stephano, King Alonso’s butler – and be warned, he is very much the worse for drink, for he’s floated ashore astride a barrel of wine, which he’s now proceeding to empty! He’s taking great swigs from the wooden bottle, and he’s singing very loudly and very tunelessly, and when Caliban hears him, he’s beside himself with terror. The first ‘spirit’, he thinks, has been joined by another. He peeps out from under the cloak and, before he knows what’s happening, he’s being offered a drink by Stephano. Caliban has never tasted alcohol, and at first he spits it out, but Stephano doesn’t give up. He tells him to ‘open his chops’, and this time he pours the drink down Caliban’s throat.
Meanwhile, under the cloak, Trinculo’s puzzled. He hears Stephano’s voice – but surely his old friend and drinking companion is drowned? Like Caliban, he begins to think he’s being haunted by spirits, and cries out. And when Stephano hears Trinculo’s voice, he can’t believe his luck!
Four legs and two voices, he says. A most delicate monster!
Eventually, those two bits of flotsam realise what’s happening. Stephano drags Trinculo out from under the cloak and you can imagine how relieved and delighted they are to find they’ve both survived the storm. Look at them dance around!
Do you remember what Ferdinand thought when he first saw Miranda? And what Miranda thought when she first saw Ferdinand? They both thought they were seeing gods, for I had made sure they were completely blinded by love. Well, there was certainly magic in the island’s air that afternoon, for here’s what Caliban said when he saw the drunken old butler Stephano:
That’s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him.
And that’s where the second murder plot began to take shape. For Caliban was entranced by a very ordinary mortal (or rather, he was entranced by the effects of a very ordinary mortal’s very ordinary wine), and he suddenly realised he’d found his heart’s desire. Or thought he had.
Listen to what he’s saying to Stephano now:
I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries;
I’ll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I’ll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.
Ridiculous, isn’t it? A few mouthfuls of wine, and there’s Caliban swearing to follow this man for the rest of his days. And of course Stephano’s lapping it up like a cat does cream. He’s never felt so important in his life. Suddenly he – a mere servant – is being treated like royalty! Even Trinculo sees it’s ridiculous. As you might guess, he’s really put out, for he’s jealous of Stephano’s new friend, and so he heaps insult upon insult on Caliban.
But things are starting to become dangerous now. Stephano’s suddenly got ideas well above his station. He’s drunk with wine, for sure – but he’s also drunk with power. King Alonso’s drowned, isn’t he? And his son, and all the courtiers? Aren’t he and Trinculo the sole survivors of the storm? Doesn’t that make them lords of the island?
Meanwhile Caliban, his head spinning, is happier than he’s ever been. He’s got a new master, and this master won’t punish him like Prospero. This master is going to be a great master. Caliban will do anything for him – in exchange for a drink.
Watch them stagger along the beach together. Aren’t they a laughable trio, if ever there was one. With Stephano and Trinculo as lords of the island, what hope has the place got? But now, as they weave their way along, the comedy’s starting to fade, and things are becoming sinister. That dark mind of Caliban’s is growing darker and darker. The resentment he’s been feeling during all those years of imprisonment is coming to the surface. He’s got a fine new master, and now he’s going to make sure he keeps him – by getting rid of the old one, for ever…