He continued, “Everyone started screaming, because Hamlet walked up to Laertes, who was on the ground, and lifted the stick, ready to stab your brother again. I shouted at Hamlet to stop, and he looked at me and then your brother like he was deciding something. Then he squeezed his eyes tight and tossed the stick aside. I thought it was all over, but then Hamlet’s legs buckled and he fell right onto Laertes. Claudius shouted, ‘Part them!’ and the other players rolled Hamlet off Laertes. Both of them were covered in blood.”
I sucked in my breath.
Horatio touched my hand. “Are you sure you want to hear?”
Tucking my lips between my teeth to hold back the scream rising up within me, I nodded.
Reluctantly he went on. “Then there was a new sound, and when I turned around, I saw the queen was staggering and then she fell over. Hamlet sat up and asked, ‘What’s wrong with the queen?’
“Claudius was really anxious. Everyone could see it. He answered, ‘She fainted because of the blood.’
“So Gertrude called out, ‘No, no. The drink. I’ve been poisoned.’ And then…” Horatio rubbed at his face before finishing. “Then I watched froth pour out of her mouth. She turned blue, and her eyes rolled back. It was sick.”
“Ew,” I whispered, trying not to picture it.
“Hamlet tried to stand up and pointed at Claudius. ‘You did this to her!’ ”
I found my sympathy for Gertrude growing, something I didn’t want. What I did want to know was where my brother was during all of this.
When I asked, Horatio said slowly, “After he was slashed by Hamlet, he was bleeding bad.”
I cringed at the image of my brother’s suffering, which made Horatio stop, so I said, “Go on. I need to know.”
“Well… people were shouting that ambulances were coming, but Laertes kept shaking his head. Hamlet was hovering over Laertes, saying how sorry he was. Laertes took him by the sleeve of his jersey and said, ‘I’m the villain, and you’re a dead man.’ ”
“Wait. My brother was good. Why would he say that about himself?” I asked, ignoring the fact that I’d seen my brother stab Hamlet after ruthlessly attacking him throughout the game.
“Because, Ophelia, your brother… The blade was poisoned.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, sitting up quickly.
“Neither did Hamlet. He said to Laertes, ‘You just cut my side. I’ll be fine.’ But Laertes told him that he’d be dead in less than a half hour. They both would.”
“No,” I said, covering my face at the thought of both of them knowing the end was near.
“You’d be proud of him, though, Ophelia. Laertes was able to tell us what happened. He whispered to us, ‘The king—’ ” Horatio swallowed hard. “ ‘The king is to blame.’ ”
“Claudius was responsible for the poison on the blade, too?” I asked, lowering my hands.
Horatio nodded. “He put Laertes up to the whole thing. Gave him the poison. Got your brother mad enough to attack Hamlet. Neither of them thought Hamlet would be able to get to your brother, though. Or Claudius.”
“Claudius?” I asked.
“Yeah. Hamlet grabbed the poisoned stick, got around the crowd, and sliced Claudius across the forearm.”
“He did?” I gasped.
Horatio nodded. “Somebody shouted ‘Treason!’ and Claudius called for help. But even while he was writhing and holding his bleeding arm, he knew he wouldn’t live. Undone by his own trick.”
“Where were the guards in all of this?” I asked.
Horatio looked at the watermarked ceiling. “I only figured out at that moment that there had been no security guards at the game. Turns out Claudius had ordered them to stay away until they got a radio signal from the ref to have Hamlet or Laertes arrested. He had said anyone who ignored his command would be fired or jailed. He was too arrogant to think it would go any way but his way.”
“Jerk.”
Horatio half smiled and then winced. “Hamlet wouldn’t let it go at the stabbing. I guess he wanted to be sure his uncle really did die. You could see Hamlet was getting weak from the poison and had sunk to the ground, but he—he managed to pull himself to the poisoned cup his mother had drunk from, then he held Claudius down and poured the rest into Claudius’s mouth. Hamlet screamed, ‘Here, you incestuous, murderous, damned Dane. Drink this and die like my mother!’ ”
“No way.”
“Yeah. It was crazy. Everyone froze and watched Claudius squirm. I couldn’t look, and when