The Tempest Read online

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S

  The Tempest

  Retold by Franzeska G. Ewart Illustrated by David Wyatt

  Contents

  Act One

  Act Two

  Act Three

  Act Four

  Act Five

  About the Author

  List of characters

  Alonso, King of Naples

  Sebastian, his brother

  Ferdinand, Alonso’s son

  Prospero, a magician and rightful Duke of Milan

  Miranda, his daughter

  Antonio, Prospero’s brother, the usurping Duke of Milan

  Ariel, an airy spirit

  Caliban, a savage and deformed slave

  Gonzalo, an honest old councillor

  Adrian and Francisco, lords

  Trinculo, a jester

  Stephano, a drunken butler

  Iris

  Ceres

  represented by nymphs

  Juno

  Act One

  All hail, great master! Grave sir, hail! I come

  To answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly,

  To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride

  On the curled clouds. To thy strong bidding task

  Ariel and all his quality.

  Those were the first words I spoke to my master, Prospero, on that magical day – the day of the tempest. I’m sure you’ll agree they were brave words indeed!

  I knew, you see, that the day was going to be special. From the moment it dawned, the whole island seemed to hold its breath. The air hardly moved, and it felt as if every plant, every animal, and every spirit was waiting silently...

  You’ve heard of ‘the calm before the storm’. That’s what it was like. We all knew that very soon Prospero would raise his mighty staff, and the sun would disappear. Then the wind would begin to howl, and the island would be filled with a magic more powerful than any it had ever seen before. So it was no wonder that I, Ariel, was willing to do anything, however dangerous, to make that happen.

  My job, you see, was to carry out Prospero’s spells and, believe me, I was brilliant at it! You’ll soon see how brilliant, because I’ve come back to this beautiful island, where it all happened, to tell you. Listen well, for you’re about to hear the story of The Tempest – a tale of love, and adventure, and murder plots, and magic.

  Now, before you say you’ve heard a hundred magic stories, let me tell you that this magic was no ordinary sorcery. Oh no – it was in a class of its own! For the enchantments that took place on that day were so powerful that they changed everyone who fell under their spell. No one’s life was ever the same again.

  My life wasn’t the same again, either, for in those few hours I gained something that’s more important than life itself. After years and years of being a slave, I gained my freedom. Which is why, today, I could hop onto the back of a bat and fly here – back to this island paradise that for so long was my prison.

  Did you see me swooping above, holding handfuls of black bat-hair in my fists and waving down at you? Did you hear me, singing at the top of my wild and wonderful voice?

  No – I thought not! You didn’t see or hear a thing, and how could you? To catch a glimpse of me, you have to have the eyes to see, and that means magical eyes. For I, Ariel, am an airy spirit, as my name tells you. And, since I’m sure you’ve never met anyone like me, let me try to explain.

  Being an airy spirit means that my body is made of air, unlike yours, which is flesh and blood and bones. Where you walk on two legs, I fly, and dive, and hover, and soar. And where you are stuck, your whole life long, with one body, which hardly changes except to grow old and die, I live for ever; and I take as many different shapes as I like. I can be as huge as the greatest wave, or as tiny as the lowliest barnacle. I can have the most beautiful form imaginable, or the most hideous. I can also be invisible.

  Come close and look at me now. I’ve made myself very tiny and curled up among the petals of a cowslip flower, so I’m powdered pollen yellow. My eyes are heavy with perfume and I’m holding them tight shut, for I’m listening to those words of mine again. They’re echoing in my memory now, drowning out the pounding of the waves and the seabirds’ cries, taking me – and you – back to that magical day: the day of the tempest.

  At that time, my master Prospero was the ruler of the island, and the greatest magician who ever lived. But, powerful as Prospero’s magic was, he still needed spirits to help him carry it out, and there was no spirit more able and willing than me.

  Of course, I did have my ‘gang’ to help me. Prospero may have been my master, but I was in charge of a whole band of spirits who did as I commanded them! We carried out spectacular sorcery together, but the star of Prospero’s magic shows was always me. And the show that began this story was the tempest, the sea-storm.

  Prospero had been planning that storm ever since he and his daughter, Miranda, had arrived on the island. And when I tell you that Miranda was two when they were shipwrecked, and on that day she was a beautiful young woman of fourteen, you’ll realise just how long that plan had taken.

  Prospero and Miranda, you see, had not chosen to live their lives in a humble cave on an almost-deserted island with only sea-sounds to bring comfort to their ears. Would a duke, used to living in a palace in the fine city of Milan, with rich furniture and servants, choose to raise his little daughter far away from civilisation and the company of others?

  For indeed, my master Prospero was a duke! In fact, he was Duke of Milan – the greatest state in Italy, which he had governed for many years. When I met him, though, his dukedom was just a memory; his royal gowns, his hat and his rapier were all stored away at the back of his cave. And instead of robes of office, he wore a magic cloak.

  So of course this island life was not chosen. Prospero and Miranda’s banishment from Milan was the result of a wicked plot, and when I tell you that this plot was hatched by none other than Prospero’s own brother, you’ll understand that we’re dealing with real evil. And real evil, as anyone knows, can only be matched by real, powerful magic.

  Antonio was the name of that wicked brother. Antonio, who’d looked on enviously as Prospero ruled Milan. Antonio, who’d helped his aging brother more and more with his government, and been trusted to do so. Antonio, who had eventually wanted to be Duke of Milan himself…

  At last this ambition grew so strong that he drew up a treacherous plan. With the help of two other power-hungry villains – Alonso, the King of Naples, and Alonso’s brother Sebastian – Antonio arranged for Prospero to be captured and bundled into a boat and pushed out to sea.

  And, as if that wasn’t cold-hearted enough, those wicked men sent his baby girl with him! Imagine it – until that day, Miranda had had everything a child could ask for, and a host of maidservants to look after her. Now, her bed was a wooden board with the sky for its canopy; and the sea sang her lullabies.

  Perhaps you’re wondering why Antonio didn’t simply arrange to have his brother murdered? After all, he obviously cared less than nothing for him. Does that act of mercy reveal a tiny shell of goodness on the bare seabed that is Antonio’s soul?

  I’m sorry to say, it doesn’t. The only reason Antonio spared his brother’s life was that Prospero’s subjects would have torn him limb from limb if they had suspected him of murdering their duke. For Prospero may not have been the best ruler Milan had ever had – it was rumoured that he spent rather more time in his library, poring over his books, than he did on affairs of state – but, all the same, he was dearly loved by his people. He told me so himself, and I always believed what my master said.

  Now I’m not made of flesh and blood. I don’t concern myself with all the stupidity that men call ‘human life’. But, when I see how a
brother can treat his own flesh and blood, I tell you – it makes me thankful I’m air-born!

  Prospero and Miranda would have surely died on the open sea, had it not been for one man – a kind nobleman from Naples called Gonzalo. Gonzalo risked his life to make sure Prospero had plenty of clothes, and food and drink, for himself and his child.

  And Gonzalo wasn’t only kind and noble. He was wise. He knew that food and drink weren’t enough for Prospero’s survival, and that without nourishment for his soul he would surely die. So Gonzalo filled that rotten carcass of a boat with books from his lord’s library, and when at last Prospero and Miranda were washed up on the sands of this island, they had everything they needed in order to live. Not only that – with his magic books, and his magic staff, and his magic cloak, Prospero had everything he needed in order to take revenge on his unworthy brother.

  And now, I hope, you can see how my story’s beginning to take shape…

  Prospero, you understand, was determined to get his dukedom back one day. But how on earth could he do that, living as he did on a deserted island? The only way was to use sorcery. And so for twelve years he studied his magic books, and he planned, and he waited, and when, one night, he read in the stars that all his enemies were due to sail past this island, he summoned me. He opened up the magic book and, as he showed me what I was to do, it was as if the very pages howled and roared and lashed their sea-fury at us!

  For I was to whip up the calm, blue sea into the most violent storm ever seen. I, Ariel, was to become the tempest that would shipwreck the royal fleet with King Alonso, Antonio and Sebastian aboard. Their long and joyful voyage – for they had been to Tunisia to celebrate the marriage of King Alonso’s daughter Claribel to an African king – was to come to a terrible end!

  But I had to be careful. Even though my tempest was to be a storm to end all storms, the royal party was not to be drowned. That wasn’t what my noble master wanted at all. Antonio, Alonso and Sebastian may have been willing to send Prospero and Miranda out on the open sea to almost certain death, but the revenge Prospero planned wasn’t nearly so simple. And, as you listen to my story, you’ll see how clever it was.

  Oh, how the thought of that first spell thrilled me! I was on fire with enthusiasm as I flew off to carry it out. But, of course, although I was going to do all the roaring and foaming and thrashing and burning, it was Prospero who was actually in charge. It was his master plan, and it was perfect.

  Now, as I told you, Prospero never intended to harm any of the people aboard the ships. For one thing, he had other ideas – death by drowning was far too good for his three enemies! But there was another reason why he’d given me strict instructions not to harm a single soul: not everyone aboard the royal ship was evil. There was Gonzalo, that wise, kind man whose actions had saved the lives of Prospero and Miranda; and there was Ferdinand, Alonso’s fine young son, and heir to his throne.

  So when I began to whip up the waves around the royal ship in preparation for the most terrifying storm those voyagers had ever seen, I knew I’d have to make sure that not one hair on their heads was harmed, and that not one single stain was left on their clothes. I told you it was a magical tempest, didn’t I! Here’s what I did:

  I boarded the king’s ship. Now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement.

  Yes indeed – I ripped through that ship like wildfire. From one end of the deck to the other I roared, splitting into a dozen pieces to engulf cabin after cabin with my fury.

  Oh, I did enjoy that tempest. I was in my element! You should have heard those royal passengers, howling louder than the storm-winds themselves. For they thought their last hour had come – and what a nuisance they were to the sailors. In the end, the boatswain had to order them off the deck. Imagine – a common sailor giving orders to a king!

  And it wasn’t just the king and courtiers who were terrified of your Ariel. Even the sailors, who had spent all their lives at sea, were scared out of their wits. They didn’t know where to look next, for no sooner had I struck the deck with my fire-fury than I was up above them on the mast, raining down thunderbolts on their helpless heads.

  Who could blame them for taking a few nips of rum to calm their shattered nerves? I’ll swear even Neptune, the king of the sea, was so terrified that his trident shook! But of course I never forgot what Prospero had instructed me, not for an instant. I knew I had to drive everyone except the sailors off the ship and make sure they landed safely in groups on the island, so that’s what I did.

  Not that it took much to persuade them to leave. The first man to leap into the wild sea was Ferdinand, and he was a sight to behold with his hair standing up on end like wet, shiny reeds.

  Hell is empty, he yelled as he jumped, and all the devils are here!

  And sure enough, it must have seemed like hell to everyone on board. A sea-storm is bad enough, but a sea-storm that soaks and burns at the same time is the stuff of nightmares. My spiriting was pure theatre – with Ariel as the leading light!

  But all good things must come to an end. Eventually, I calmed myself and led everyone ashore, making sure that Ferdinand was in a special, sheltered place on his own. And if I could feel pity, I would have pitied that young man – for he thought he was the only survivor of the storm, and the poor thing was a sorry sight to see.

  But magic-makers can’t afford to waste time feeling sorry for their subjects. I went back to the ship, put the sailors to sleep (which wasn’t difficult because they were exhausted), and sent the rest of the fleet on to Naples. I could imagine them arriving home, bursting to tell everyone about the terrible storm that had drowned their king, all his courtiers, and his handsome young son!

  Then, at last, at two o’clock that afternoon, I thought I was finished. I was sure the tempest was to be my last spell for Prospero.

  How wrong I was! I wasn’t finished. Nothing like finished. And when Prospero told me that there was more to do, and the next four hours would be busier than ever, I’m afraid I thoroughly lost my temper. You should have heard the way I stood up to him. I was quite fearless in my fury.

  I should have known better than to rage at Prospero though, for when I called him the ‘greatest magician who ever lived’, I didn’t exaggerate. Prospero’s magic was stronger than the magic of the most powerful gods, and no one knew that better than I did…

  Act Two

  When Prospero arrived on this island, I was not the airy spirit I am now. Oh dear me no – quite the reverse. I was trapped in the most hideous prison, and he was the only one with magic strong enough to rescue me. But no sooner had he given me my liberty than he made me his slave. He forced me to do his spriting, and I had no choice but to agree. For Prospero rescued me from a fate far, far worse than death.

  He rescued me from Sycorax.

  Oh, how that name fills me with horror, even now! Sycorax, you see, was a powerful, evil witch. She’d been banished to this island from Algeria, and they’d sent her away because of her unspeakably horrible spells. She was pregnant when she arrived (some say the father was the Devil!), and it was here that her son Caliban was born and still lives.

  Now, at the time of Sycorax’s banishment I was her slave. She had me in her power, and I won’t tell you the things she wanted me to do, for they are far too vile to speak about. So vile, in fact, that one day I’d had enough – for I am a sensitive soul, despite my airiness. I couldn’t do her mischief any longer, and I refused. I knew I would face a dreadful punishment, but nothing, I thought, could be more soul-destroying than making evil for that witch.

  How wrong I was.

  Can you imagine the worst punishment anyone could give an airy spirit? Sycorax gave it to me. Bristling with fury at my defiance, she opened up a pine tree and bundled me inside. Then she knotted me into that dark, dank trunk, forcing me to become as still and as hard as the wood itself. My lightness was all gone and in its place was sap-filled darkness.

  That prison was worse than unbe
arable. And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Sycorax died! That stone-hearted hag left me to eternal damnation.

  Think of it. I, who love to hear the wind blow and the birds sing, locked in silence broken only by my own cries of despair. I, who live for the warmth of the sun and the light of the moon, locked in darkness blacker than the blackest night. And I, whose greatest joy is to glide and swoop, to dance in and out of the clouds, knotted into a wooden prison, unable to move.

  For twelve long years I stayed there, thinking I would never get out. So, when Prospero arrived and heard my groans and used his magic to free me, is it any wonder I agreed to be his slave? And, although I never wanted to be under anyone’s control again, my new life as Prospero’s servant was far better than all those awful years with Sycorax. For every one of Prospero’s spells was a work of art and, even if it didn’t always seem to be, was cast for a good purpose. I may have moaned when I thought he worked me too hard, but carrying out his enchantments was always a pleasure.

  Oh yes, I took great pride in my work, and – if an airy spirit can love – I loved my master. I respected him, too, for I knew that if I refused to do as he asked, I would be back inside another, bigger tree – with no hope of rescue! And so, after the tempest, when Prospero told me to prepare for the next spell, I calmed myself down and did as I was told.

  This spell was to be a gentler affair; for it was a love-spell, and its young victim – King Alonso’s son Ferdinand – was to be enchanted by the greatest gift I possess.

  My music.

  Here’s the song I sang to Ferdinand, as he sat thinking sadly about his poor father. If he didn’t quite believe Alonso was drowned, then this song made sure he did. And that, of course, was exactly what Prospero wanted.

  Full fathom five thy father lies;

  Of his bones are coral made;

  Those are pearls that were his eyes;