The Sanctity of Matrimony

**This was a college project based on Much Ado About Nothing by William
Shakespeare. The idea was, a news report for a local paper. The
reporter was assigned to the wedding of Count Claudio of Florentine and
Hero the Governor's daughter.** (A bit of fun with the language and the
events) Exclusive report on the matrimonial union of Hero the daughter
of Leonato the Governor of Messina and the Count Claudio of Florentine.

** Blessed be the day, as the eye of heaven emits a rich veil of light
and warmth across Messina and on this matrimonial day; a day that would
be unlike no other; for on this day the air would turn cold, the eye of
heaven would become cloaked in the darkness of cloud cover and a bitter
tasting rain would fall on the sanctity of matrimony **

Rumours had been abound for nearly one week, of a betrothal between our
Governor Leonato's most beautiful and undefiled daughter Hero and Count
Claudio of Florentine. The young count so fine a gentleman of the
utmost propriety, to whom our great country is forever indebted. It
came as much joy to the hearts of the townsfolk of Messina, when the
official announcement was made of their impending union. This was to be
a ceremony blessed by God and was no doubt, an occasion that would
forever remain in the memory of Messina.

There was much excitement the morning afore the conjugal occasion.
Leonato, our Governor and as decent a man has ever been, whose
generosity has overwhelmed this small town on a number of occasions,
surprised no man or women with his kindness, through invites for all of
his people. This was truly to be his gift to the people, as was his
gift of his only daughter to the Count Claudio of Florentine.

The day was set with full beauty and warmth across all of Messina, as a
cerulean sky and the golden intensity of the sun, painted all that it
touched with such a richness of colour, that it seemed somehow to fill
the hearts of the people with an overwhelming feeling of gaiety and
blessedness.

Dressed in their full splendour, the ranks of pulpits within the church
garden, quickly filled with the soothing sounds of whispers, giggles
and quietly spoken words of anticipation and excitement, this was a
divine richness of unquestionable loyalty and devotion from the people,
to the man of the people and his daughter. The church bells tolled and
a brief moment of quietude happened upon the people, as heads turned
and eyes became fixed upon the great doors of the Messinian Church.

The great oak doors opened to rapturous applause and cheers from all
Messinians. There stood a proud Leonato and the daughter he holds so
true, as she too stands before all, with a smile, full of joy and hope.
Their short walk to the alter was admired and applauded with genuine
exuberance. Hero, dressed in the purity of white embroidered silks,
holding a posy of pink, white and lilac to her beating heart, her
cheeks flushed with a rosy glow, lighting her pale white complexion
like a sunset across a snowy white meadow. Waiting at the alter stood
our glorious soldiers, dressed in their caspian blue and ivory military
attire; but there was something that seemed amiss.

The expressional features of the young Count, so incongruous to the
atmosphere of such an occasion, looked choleric and melancholic, as did
the look of his closest companion Don Pedro, too a gallant man of
honour. There grew an atmosphere of disquiet and cold awkwardness, that
we all seemed to feel.

The friar commenced with the exchange of vows You come hither, my lord,
to marry this lady? the Count with stern features and steely eyes
replied No. The whispering amongst the people was immediate, with
pensive glances at each other. Leonato, in typical repost, made
correction to the friar with a nervousness, brought about by his sudden
state of confusion. Hero, too looked confused, but still with joy,
returned her answer to the corrected vow. The friar gathered hast,
asking if either couple had any inward impediment, why they should not
be conjoined, if they knew of any to utter it. Where silence is
normally present, came a response from the young Count to the bemused
Hero, asking if she knew of any? There seemed to be something
challenging in the Counts questioning, causing the blushing Hero to
respond and ask the same question, as though it was a normal part of
the ritual; even Leonato, now confused, answered for the Count. As soon
as the young Count said the words Stand thee by friar an air of tension
gripped all who sat transfixed at the melee unfolding, right before
their very eyes.

The enraged Count threw the defenceless, light footed Hero to the
ground, exclaiming to Leonato take her back again; Give not this rotten
orange to your friend, The accusations and insults rained so quickly
that my pencil did blunt, as I tried to keep up with every word that
Count Claudio bellowed. The accusations were plain for all to see; the
Count accusing her of being nothing more than a maid of no virtue,
knowing the heat of a luxurious bed, and refusing to knit his soul to
an approved wanton; Hero palely stared back at the Count's red and
pained face, her innocent expression and guiltless counter her only
defence. Don Pedro too, heavy with words; begged by Leonato for words
of solace in the defence of his daughter's good name; accused the
pitiful and hysterical Hero of being nothing more than a common stale
shameful of his own attempts at their union.

With inconsolable fury, the young Count through down the ranks of
pulpits, unseating the screaming townsfolk, who by now were aghast and
breathless. The accusations were put to the now, pale and shivering
Hero as her poor disbelieving father looked on; he too trembling,
hardly able to stand with eyes glassy with pain; they swore with
earnest and forthrightness, telling how they did see and hear her
yester night, betwixt twelve and one; they swear the ruffian to whom
she had had these vile, sensual encounters with, confessed with glee
that they had done this a thousand times in secret! Could this be true?
The disparity in such beauty, surely it could not be so? Yet, it is so,
as it has been proved by these loyal, noble and valiant protectors of
our country; how could they lie? For they would have no motive to
deceive.

It was with my own eyes that I saw Leonato strike out at his daughter.
I cannot see how his great love for his only child, so pure in his eyes
and yet so impure in truth; how his paternal love for her could ever be
repaired. It was at that dreadful moment that all life appeared to
empty from Hero, as she lay lifeless and limp in the arms of the
defending Beatrice, who, in vain had argued, screamed and shouted her
reproach at the accusations, to her so untrue of the virtues, she
believed had remained in tact to her last dying breath. It was at this
moment that we were all ushered out of the church.

Could it really be true that our beloved Hero, to whom so many of us
have seen grow from the seed of respectability; is she really; as she
stood, accused by the Prince Don Pedro, the Count Claudio and Don John,
of being nothing more than the impure wanton, as foul and defiled, as a
common whore? I thought it only right to talk to others who had
witnessed all that had happened.

Many were sympathetic with tears towards the Governor, saying: our
poor, poor Governor Leonato, so decent and benevolent a man, there has
ever been; she has brought great shame upon her dignified and
respectable name, and too went on to say: that they felt great pain for
her father, such a hospitable and generous man, and so undeserved of
such a wretched child. However like myself, many found it hard to
believe all that had been accused, saying: I cannot help but think that
there has been some kind of foul play at work here, and that a terrible
misdeed has bestowed the innocence and beauty of our beloved Hero, some
went even further to say that they felt strongly, that John the bastard
had something to do with this, expressing that he was a man of such
intent and ill will towards the family, that it would not be within his
capabilities to conjure up a plot to cause the heartache that has been
caused on this damned day.

This day, was a sad day in the memory of all proud Messinians, and too,
will remain in the deepest and most darkest memory of Messina forever.
Already the news has reached the now silent townsfolk, of the death of
Hero, whom now no one chooses to judge in respect for our beloved
governor, Leonato.