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| ISBN-13: | 9781770563810 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Coach House Books |
| Publication date: | 04/16/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 120 |
| File size: | 791 KB |
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A God in Need of Help
A play in two acts (or five, if you think about it)
By Sean Dixon
COACH HOUSE BOOKS
Copyright © 2014 Sean DixonAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-77056-381-0
CHAPTER 1
ACT ONE, SCENE ONE
(Venice, Summer 1606. Council chambers in the Doge's castle. A judge – Renier Zen – presides. Beside him stands a man in the robes of a prelate: Federico Borromeo, Cardinal Archbishop of Milan. Next to them stands a mounted canvas, covered in a sheet. Venetian guards are posted at the doors. Four seeming prisoners are led to the centre and the cloaks removed from their heads, revealing them to be three powerfully built men – Dolfin, Marco, Cocco – and one seventeen-year-old boy – Rafal. A Landsknecht Captain is also present, cruelly bound. His uniform is dirty and torn, but one can still perceive the improvised ostentation characteristic of his mercenary brotherhood. Zen is consulting some papers.)
ZEN: Gentlemen, you have been called before the magistrate for the Republic of Venice, granted the authority to represent the Council in matters of state security. I believe you all know why you're here. However, formality dictates a review.
MARCO: I am a ... simple ...
ZEN: But first you must swear an oath never to reveal what took place here, or even that you were here at all.
MARCO: But I ...
ZEN: Marco Chodeschino, oarmaker, strongman, swear!
MARCO: I swear!
ZEN: Pompeo Dolfin, actor, alchemist-assistant, snake-handler, strongman, swear!
DOLFIN: I swear!
ZEN: Benasuto Cocco, soldier, assassin, strongman, swear.
COCCO: I s-s–
ZEN: Yes, yes.
COCCO: I s–
ZEN: Boy named Rafal, no last name given and I refuse to call him a strongman when he's barely of age, there's much that is funny about him and he's a scrawny –
MARCO: Leave the boy alone.
ZEN: – he's a scrawny little foreigner to boot –
MARCO: I said LEAVE THE BOY ALONE!
(It takes all the guards to restrain him. Finally, the boy puts his hand on Marco's shoulder and calms him.)
ZEN: Rafal, boy, swear.
RAFAL: I swear.
ZEN: (to the fettered Captain) And the Landsknecht Captain, who accompanied them, who was supposed to guard them.
CAPTAIN: (mumbles something)
ZEN: Very well. It's a shameful moment for the Republic of Venice when a distinguished foreign monarch asks us to perform a simple task and we bungle it.
COCCO: With resp-pect, C-c-c-ouncillor, the t-t-t-task was n-not simple.
ZEN: If only because the wrong men were chosen for the job.
COCCO: B-b-b-b–?
ZEN: In the name of all that is serene and noble in our city, would you please close your mouth and keep it closed? Must our dignity endure the stammering of an imbecile?
It has become clear, however, that this is no longer the simple blunder that I perceive with such painful acuity. Fifty-six people have sworn that a miracle has taken place, somewhere in the middle of the Alps – the village of Pusterwald. Since I do not believe in miracles, I have little choice but to recuse myself in favour of a representative from the Roman Church: Federico Borromeo, Cardinal Archbishop of Milan, learned art historian and –
MARCO: (makes the sign of the cross, quietly murmuring the Latin)
In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti, amen.
ZEN: – While it is true the cardinal curtsies before the bishop of Rome, I can assure all present that his investigation will be conducted with a most Venetian serenity. This is no Spanish Inquisition. Do I have that correct, Cardinal Archbishop?
BORROMEO: Yes, you do.
ZEN: Discover the painting.
(The mounted painting is unveiled: The Brotherhood of the Rosary, by Albrecht Dürer, circa 1506. It's huge.)
ZEN: In the month of April in this, the year of our Lord 1606, his Imperial Majesty Rudolf the Second, Holy Roman Emperor, being a great lover and patron of the arts, purchased from the church of St. Bartolomeo, here in Venice, a painting by one Albrecht Dürer, a northern artist of the last century. The Brotherhood of the Rosary. His instructions were for the painting to be swaddled with cloth sealed in wax. And then the four strongest men in Venice should be got – this same honour to be determined in an open competition – to raise the protected painting above their heads and carry it to the imperial residence in Prague, Bohemia, (pointing) that way, thus preventing any injury that might be inflicted from its transport in a cart.
A simple task. How I wish it had been completed. How I wish the Venetian army had not been required to retrieve it; how I wish the Captain charged to chaperone had done his job –
CAPTAIN: (grunts)
ZEN: How I wish news of a miracle had not leapt from mountaintop to mountaintop, or that the church had not caught wind of it, or that the emperor had not caught wind of it. He's mad, you know. Raving. Spends all his time consulting with astrologers and magicians. But he has been kind enough to allow us to question his errant mercenary and to extend our holding of his canvas, if only because he is keen to establish the veracity of this alleged miracle. I am confident that our prelate is made of sterner stuff and will arrive at the truth.
And so, without further ado, I will ask you all to make your way through that door there, all but (brief consultation with the Archbishop) the oarmaker, Marco Chodeschino.
(Everyone clears the room with the exception of Borromeo, Zen and Marco. Rafal lingers for a moment, his hand on Marco's shoulder. When he releases, Marco makes the sign of the cross.)
CHAPTER 2ACT ONE, SCENE TWO
(Borromeo interviews Marco.)
BORROMEO: Do you know why we're here, Marco?
MARCO: You want me to tell you what happened, on my, in my, on our travel.
BORROMEO: You carried the painting –
MARCO: With the others –
BORROMEO: Over the Alps.
MARCO: Halfway to Prague.
BORROMEO: To the town of –
MARCO: Pusterwald.
BORROMEO: Pusterwald, yes. And something happened there.
MARCO: You want me to tell you about that.
BORROMEO: In time. We should go in order.
MARCO: From the beginning.
BORROMEO: Yes.
ZEN: And try not to be intimidated by the archbishop, Marco. Remember, you are a Venetian.
MARCO: (his hand is moving to his forehead) Yes sir.
ZEN: A secular state, the pope our natural enemy.
MARCO: (sign of the cross) Sir.
ZEN: You need not look at me like that, Signore.
MARCO: Oh no, I –
ZEN: He started it, not us. Wars of expansion, excommunication; the last
thing we need is a miracle on our hands, so close to this, our Serenissima –
BORROMEO: Councillor –
ZEN: I'm merely putting the oarmaker at his ease, Eminence.
MARCO: Maybe someone else should go first; someone more at ease.
BORROMEO: Don't be afraid, Marco. The councillor will not speak any more. And I think you will give me a straightforward story. Then I will use the others to add colorito and disegno.
MARCO: But I cannot tell a story. I'm not clever like that.
BORROMEO: Clever never helps, my child.
MARCO: Could help me, time from time.
BORROMEO: Marco, there was a famous painter, last century, very highly regarded, very clever. He once painted a scene with many saints crowded around the Virgin and child.
MARCO: Like this one.
BORROMEO: Yes, exactly. But not this one.
MARCO: Not this one.
BORROMEO: Not this one. A different one.
MARCO: Oh.
BORROMEO: One of the saints in this other nativity, not this one, was Christopher. Do you know St. Christopher?
MARCO: Who carried Baby Jesus across a river.
BORROMEO: Precisely. And because the painter wanted you to recognize Christopher, he depicted him in this other nativity – not this one – holding our blessed saviour on his shoulder, just as we know him. Do you see the problem?
MARCO: (after a moment's thought) Baby Jesus was two times in the painting.
BORROMEO: A nativity with two saviours. That's where cleverness can get you if you're not careful.
MARCO: There you go.
BORROMEO: Simple, Marco.
MARCO: Simple.
BORROMEO: From the beginning.
MARCO: I won the strongman prize by lifting a donkey, judges called three names then mine, fourth place, third place, second place, then mine, when they called my name I ran down to claim my prize, but they didn't give me a prize, they gave me a task, and they were already arguing about the boy, Rafal, whether he should be part of the task, they thought he should not do it, I said I would help him –
BORROMEO: Wait.
MARCO: Sorry?
BORROMEO: Simple is not necessarily swift.
MARCO: Oh. I'll start again –
BORROMEO: No. You ensured that young Rafal would stay in the expedition. Why?
MARCO: He wanted to stay. He said he could do it.
BORROMEO: What was that to you?
MARCO: He was fourth place, fair and square!
BORROMEO: So you only helped him to be fair?
MARCO: He lifted a cart full of cabbages with one hand!
BORROMEO: Really.
MARCO: When the judges asked him how he did it, he said he imagined it was Saint Mark beneath.
BORROMEO: Beneath what?
MARCO: The cabbages.
BORROMEO: I don't understand.
MARCO: Saint Mark beneath the cabbages?
BORROMEO: I don't recall a story of the evangelist Mark hiding under cabbages.
MARCO: No, ha! No.
ZEN: No, no.
MARCO: Ha! No.
ZEN: Ha!
MARCO: Not the man. His bones. It's a story for us. For Venetians. From long time past. How we stole his bones from under the Musselmen's noses and brought them home to Venice.
BORROMEO: And young Rafal said he was able to lift the cart –
MARCO: By imagining those same bones under the cabbages!
BORROMEO: You saw him do it?
MARCO: Made me forget I was missing dinner with my wife and bambini.
BORROMEO: You have bambini.
MARCO: My joy! – Your Eminence. Two boys and a girl.
BORROMEO: Must have hurt to leave them.
MARCO: The expedition was long, yes. Gloria della Serenissima.
BORROMEO: To carry a heavy painting.
MARCO: Heavier and heavier.
BORROMEO: And the Captain was –
(The Captain appears, unfettered, cleaned up, as if marching.)
MARCO: Cruel man.
BORROMEO: You must have regretted helping the boy stay on. To let such a frail creature endure these hardships.
(The others appear, each at their corner of the crate. Marco takes his corner.)
MARCO: Rafal wanted to go! Said it again and again. And he never once complain.
COCCO: Heavy! Urgh!
MARCO: It were always Cocco who complained. And he was a strongman. So –
COCCO: Who will lighten my mood!
MARCO: You'd think a soldier would not talk like that.
COCCO: Truth is, I been starting to get a bit sick at the sight of blood. Too much killing. I thought this caprice might lead to something better. Urgh! Always such rotten luck! Oh, what am I to do with this useless, excremental life?
BORROMEO: He said all that?
MARCO: He did all the complaining. All of it.
BORROMEO: But I mean, he had no stammer?
MARCO: Oh. Benasuto Cocco only stammer in front of men like you. Among men like me, he speak very well.
BORROMEO: Go on.
MARCO: So then the Captain says –
CAPTAIN: You want to get away from the sight of blood? Then you never should have signed up for this expedition.
COCCO: Why is that?
MARCO: – Cocco ask.
CAPTAIN: Oh, you'll find out soon enough.
MARCO: – says the Captain.
(Scene. They are holding the painting in a crate above their heads, Marco and Rafal in front, Cocco and Dolfin behind, somewhere in the Alps, having been halted by the Captain.)
CAPTAIN: Nothing but papist-hating Protestants all the way from here to the emperor's front door.
DOLFIN: We're not papists.
CAPTAIN: You look like papists.
DOLFIN: We do?
CAPTAIN: But you can leave the painting with me and scatter on home. No one will ever know.
DOLFIN: How will you carry it?
CAPTAIN: I have friends. Protestant friends.
DOLFIN: I don't see any friends.
CAPTAIN: They're waiting in Pusterwald. I'll send for them. They'll carry. You'll get paid.
DOLFIN: Okay.
MARCO: You mean I can go home?
DOLFIN: Fortuna bella, we can go home!
RAFAL: I'm not afraid to look like a papist. And I shall carry this painting by myself to Prague if I have to.
DOLFIN: Oh.
RAFAL: But do what you must.
MARCO: If he will carry, then so will I.
DOLFIN: Oh.
CAPTAIN: Put your faith in a stupid boy. Typical folly of the papist.
MARCO: What do you mean?
CAPTAIN: Always believing the wrong person will save him. When last the white smoke was released for the new pope, and the bells of St. Peter's began to ring, do you know what the people heard from deep in the bowels of a Roman prison?
MARCO: No.
CAPTAIN: A voice that cried, 'Now I will be free, for he buggered me when I was a boy!'
(Zen laughs. Borromeo shoots him a concerned look. Marco makes the sign of the cross. The Captain laughs.)
BORROMEO: Councillor, please!
CAPTAIN: Tell me, boy. How many times have you received such unwanted attention from your pale priests?
RAFAL: But who says I did not want it?
CAPTAIN: I think you misunderstand me.
RAFAL: What? I'm sure I don't. I'll bet you've had more men than I, what with your custom tailoring.
CAPTAIN: Are you implying that I –?
RAFAL: Hardly an implication.
(The Captain backhands the boy across his head. Rafal falls to the ground. Marco lets go of his corner and lunges at the Captain, who drops his lance, draws a dagger and holds it at Marco's throat, stopping him.)
CAPTAIN: Lay one finger on me, strongman, and you shall find yourself bereft of a throat for bleating.
RAFAL: It's all right, Marco. The boy-lover's blow was not so strong.
CAPTAIN: Oh, you want love?
COCCO: Easy, Captain. Don't you need all four to do this job?
CAPTAIN: Get up then, boy. Pick up your cross!
RAFAL: (still down, as if it's very sweet) You're comparing me to Jesus.
CAPTAIN: Come on. You can't be that hurt.
(He prods the boy with his long lance. Marco grabs the lance.)
MARCO: Leave him alone!
(The two struggle with it for a moment, before Marco pushes the lance away, knocking the Captain back a few steps and returning to tend to the boy. The Captain sets his lance to attack and looks like he's about to run Marco through.)
RAFAL: I can do it. (getting up) I can do it.
CAPTAIN: So we are ready to resume this sorry expedition?
RAFAL: Yes sir.
CAPTAIN: March!
(They resume.)
RAFAL: After all, I am the fourth strongest man in Venice.
MARCO: He did things like that. After a terrible thing, he would say something clever like that. He was strong. Not beaten down. Not like me. Clever. That first night, he tell me about the place we were walking to.
(Scene. The group of four are settled around a campfire. The Captain is sleeping some distance away by another fire, sword and lance at the ready. Marco engages the boy in conversation. Rafal has a black eye.)
RAFAL: The mountains will be long gone by then, you know.
MARCO: Truly? They don't go forever?
RAFAL: They don't.
MARCO: I've heard Prague is more beautiful even than Venice.
RAFAL: I've been there.
DOLFIN: You have?
RAFAL: One might say I was born there.
ZEN: (to Borromeo) One might say?
MARCO: Born there?
ZEN: (to Borromeo) Was he born there or not?
DOLFIN: So that's where you're from.
MARCO: Tell us about Prague, Rafal.
RAFAL: Prague. (sighs) Seven hills. A winding river. Winding streets. A city like the world made small. And the castle like the city made small. And the emperor: he too is small.
MARCO: Is he as mad as they say?
RAFAL: He is not so mad. Sweet, you know. Shy. Not mad. He doesn't know what to believe and so he believes everything. And he protects the wandering people in that city. What are they called?
DOLFIN: You mean the Jews?
RAFAL: Yes. Even them. Even the Jews.
ZEN: He did not know how to call the Jews?
RAFAL: He collects alchemists too. Were you not employed by an alchemist, Dolfin?
DOLFIN: A man has to eat.
RAFAL: But the emperor is fascinated by them.
DOLFIN: Really?
RAFAL: Really.
DOLFIN: Are you saying –?
RAFAL: Not all alchemists are charlatans, Dolfin. He will introduce you to the best in the world.
DOLFIN: He will?
(Continues...)
Excerpted from A God in Need of Help by Sean Dixon. Copyright © 2014 Sean Dixon. Excerpted by permission of COACH HOUSE BOOKS.
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