Macbeth, recently defeated and beheaded at the hands of Macduff,
duly arrived on the bank of the River Styx to be rowed across to Hades by
Charon the ferryman. However, he proved to be a reluctant passenger, not least because
he saw no reason to give the infernal boatman his usual fee.
“No cash, no deal”, Charon said.
“Don’t you talk to me about deals”, Macbeth replied. “I know
more about deals that you’ll ever know. I wrote the book about deals – or at least
my ghostwriter did.”
“But if you don’t pay me you don’t get across”, said Charon.
“You have to wander about for a hundred years before you get a free ride.”
“Don’t you talk to me about free rides …”
“And besides that”, Charon interrupted, “Your nearest and
dearest should have left a coin on your tongue as my payment, so where is it?”
“I ran out of any nearest and dearest early in Act Five”,
said Macbeth. “Besides which, somebody cut my head off, so any coin would
probably have fallen out of the hole where my neck used to be.”
“Yes, I see that,” said Charon. “Incidentally, somebody did
a terrible job trying to stitch it back on so you could get down here. Don’t
nod too vigorously or it’ll be off again”.
“Of course, I shouldn’t be here at all”, said Macbeth. “When
I get to see your boss I’m going to demand a recount.”
“A recount?”
“Sure thing. When everything is looked at properly, everyone
will see that I won that battle by a landslide.”
“I don’t think so”, said Charon. “According to what I’ve been
told, Macduff and Malcolm won it by a woodslide.”
“You mean that terrible ‘Birnam Wood shall come to Dunsinane’
trick? You just wait till I take that little number to your Supreme Court. My
mate Bill Shakespeare has been packing the bench for years with loads of guys who’ll
back me up – Othello, Lear, Julius Caesar, even Falstaff if they’ve managed to
keep him off the booze.
“I’m telling you”, he continued. “It’s all a witch hunt. And
talking of witches, I’ll bet they were all in it too.”
“In what?”
“The conspiracy. They all wanted me dead right from the
start. I could tell just from what they were putting in that foul cauldron of
theirs.”
“Such as?”
“Wool of bat for starters. They clearly wanted me to catch
Covid-19. And ‘eye of newt’? I’m positive they slipped in a fake newt. Those crones
made a whole heap of forecasts that they knew could not possibly happen, unless
they fixed it, so what did they do?”
“Tell me.”
“Isn’t it obvious? They fixed it! All that ‘man who is not born
of woman’ nonsense, and they reckoned that because Macduff’s mum had a Caesarian
that meant that he wasn’t properly born. What codswallop. And these people get
paid huge sums of money …”
“Do they?” Charon asked.
“Of course they do. All these mystical types get paid a
fortune so they can swan around on jet-powered broomsticks and live the life of
Riley. They take all-expenses-paid luxury holidays in England, you know.”
“Can’t say I did, to be honest.”
“That’s why I had that wall built, you know.”
“Wall?” Charon looked bemused.
“Between Scotland and England. To stop hordes of foreigners
pouring in and witches pouring out – but I’d forgotten that it doesn’t work if
you’re on a broomstick.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong”, said Charon, “but I thought it
was Emperor Hadrian who built that wall?”
“More lies”, said Macbeth. “Nobody gives me the credit for
everything I’ve done for this country. Nobody!”
“But you’re dead now”, said Charon, “so it doesn’t matter.”
“That reminds me”, said Macbeth, “Another thing about that
conspiracy. There were dead people who were allowed to get in on the act. If
you’re dead, you can’t be allowed to affect the outcome of any future power
struggle, and yet there was Banquo, who I am absolutely positive was dead – due
to the fact that I had him killed – turning up at one of my parties. There he
was, bold as brass! I tell you, it’s just not right, and I demand a recount!”
“Just get in the boat”, said Charon. “I’m breaking the habit
of a lifetime and giving you a free ride. If I charged you, I bet you’d only
claim it as tax-deductible.”
© John Welford
