THE HATSO who is shaving Callas: Callas, Callas! Don’t turn Zikkish on me and start haggling!
CALLAS: The rents are too high.
DE GUZMAN pricks up his ears: What do you say about the rents?
CALLAS: They’re too high. We don’t have enough to live.
DE GUZMAN: And how am I supposed to live? You’re a lazy, slovenly lot, otherwise you wouldn’t have to beg.
CALLAS: If I’m lazy, what do you call yourself?
DE GUZMAN: Less of your cheek, otherwise there’ll be no deal.
CALLAS: I’m not cheeky, I’m needy.
DE GUZMAN: The land is good.
CALLAS: It’s good for you. But not because of the corn, because of the dues.
LOPEZ:
Landlord and peasant: always picking fights.
One’s in the right, the other one has rights.
DE GUZMAN: You should be ashamed of yourself, always wanting something for nothing.
CALLAS: I don’t want something for nothing, I just want something!
DE GUZMAN: You can go if you like, you’re a free man!
CALLAS: Yes, I can go. But where can I go?
DE GUZMAN: I’ve heard enough. I’ll keep what’s mine.
CALLAS: Is that your last word? To the Hatso: Stop shaving!
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY to Callas: Señor de Guzman is simply confident that there’s no risk involved, or very little. To de Guzman: Señor de Guzman, you’ve got to compromise. You can’t be sure! One year’s rent isn’t a great deal.
CALLAS: Two years. I’m risking my neck!
DE GUZMAN as if he’s woken up: Your neck? What’s going on here?
ZIKKISH ATTORNEY: Callas will go to the gallows in your place, there being no danger, like we’ve been saying, you know.
DE GUZMAN: Yes, that’s what you’ve been saying.
CALLAS: And I want two years rent-free. Since I may be hanged for it.
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY: One year.
CALLAS to the Hatso: Hold on!
INSPECTOR calls from backstage: Get them ready, the
Commander wants to see all the condemned before they’re taken away.
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY: All right, one and a half years, Callas!
Callas is silent.
DE GUZMAN: Two years.
CALLAS: But I still haven’t said I’ll do it!
In the meantime the four Sickle farmers have been led out.
ZIKKISH ATTORNEY: You’ll do it all right, Callas, you’ve got no choice.
CALLAS to the audience: But that would mean:
Zak for Zik? Injustice reaps all the reward.
The poor die for the rich, the serf dies for his lord!
ZIKKISH ATTORNEY to his colleague: Let’s hope the Viceroy turns up on time! Otherwise he’ll hang!
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY: Indeed, now he’s got good reason to pray to the Lord that they don’t hang his master.
11
THE VICEROY’S PALACE
It is early morning. A gibbet stands in the courtyard. On a board with writing: ‘Executions: 1 landowner and 200 peasants’. Between the inspector and a Hatso stands a man in chains with a hood over his face. They are waiting. From backstage the clatter of many wooden clogs.
INSPECTOR to the Hatso: I just don’t understand why we haven’t had the order for the hanging yet. Now the Sickle people are here already.
HATSO: What makes you think they’re the Sickle? Just the clatter of clogs? Many of us Iberin soldiers have only got wooden shoes now.
INSPECTOR: You keep your mouth shut, or there’ll be trouble. Get the gallows ready.
The Hatso, grumbling, goes round the back and busies himself.
INSPECTOR sighs, to the man in the hood: That’s what comes of letting them hang whoever they want to. They get cheeky. Shouts to the Hatso: What are you up to back there?
HATSO coming back: It’s all ready to go. You can start hanging them now.
Into the courtyard comes the Governor, followed by Missena and Señores Saz, Peruiner, de Hoz and Duarte. We hear their protestations from afar.
SAZ:
Are you completely mad? This man’s a landlord
Not a Zik! And if he’s hanged, they’re sure
To say he must indeed have racked the rents.
PERUINER:
Not one estate that has a Zikkish lord
Has managed to collect the dues this month!
What’s more, on neighbouring estates, where rents
Aren’t lower after all, some Zakkish landlords
Say their tenants just refuse to pay.
IBERIN:
So what?
DUARTE:
That’s all he has to say: So what!
MISSENA:
Just stop and think who ’tis you’re hanging here:
A Zik, that’s true, and p’raps he went astray,
But still: the man’s a gentleman, like us.
IBERIN:
A man like us?
MISSENA:
Well yes, he lives from rent.
IBERIN:
I don’t live from rent.
SAZ:
From what then, pray?
DUARTE:
What is it pays to keep this court? How were
Your gallows paid for, and – pointing at the Hatso – who pays for him?
What paid the army that destroyed the Sickle?
PERUINER:
It’s rent, man, rent! And nothing else but rent!
But let’s not get worked up about it, friends,
The man’s stuck in a rut and we should help.
He’s talked so much of Ziks and Zaks, perhaps
He’s overdone it. Well, we understand.
And no offence to you! Your work was good.
You kept your promises: the peasantry
Are well and truly cowed. That’s quite a feat!
And now we can proceed to other plans,
Bold plans that seemed, but recently, too bold.
IBERIN
What plans are these?
MISSENA warning:
Ahem.
PERUINER:
Well, other plans …
But now it’s time to compromise, be smart!
MISSENA:
The situation’s awkward, so let’s think:
Who could procure this Zik’s acquittal?
IBERIN obstinately:
Not I.
MISSENA:
Who could?
Pause.
The Viceroy could.
PERUINER:
He could.
Let’s just suspend the sentence, till he’s back!
IBERIN:
Until he’s back?
MISSENA:
Well, Señor Iberin,
The Viceroy, our dear beloved and
Respected master, has resolved he should
Return to office – which, I have no doubt,
Gladdens your heart, just as it gladdens ours.
Silence.
IBERIN:
He’s coming back?
MISSENA:
Indeed. Last night the troops
Joyfully received him, and requested that
He lead them back in triumph into Luma,
This very day.
IBERIN after an embarrassing pause:
I see. So that’s the plan.
And I was not consulted? I should have thought
I had deserved that much, that I be asked.
MISSENA:
All right, I’m asking.
IBERIN after a difficult inner struggle:
What if I agree
To free the Zik?
MISSENA:
You’d do that?
IBERIN:
Yes, I’d do that!
MISSENA embarrassed:
Most unexpected. What about your creed
Of Zaks and Ziks?
IBERIN firmly:
Don’t let that trouble you,
That’s my affair. About the victory march
I have a thing or two to say on that!
The sound of drums and marching feet offstage.
MISSENA smiling:
The army makes its entrance. At its head …
Enter the Viceroy, elegant and smiling, wearing a steel helmet and a military overcoat over his dinner jacket. They all bow.
MISSENA quietly to Iberin, who has not bowed:
You ought to bow: this is your sovereign!
Iberin bows.
VICEROY:
Good day there, Iberin!
MISSENA:
You come on cue,
My lord! A thorny problem has engaged us.
And Señor Iberin, who’s occupied
With an exemplary affair to show
The common people what is right and wrong,
Is rather in a rut.
VICEROY:
I know the case.
Dear Iberin, permit me to reveal
The fish that have so hopelessly enmeshed
Themselves within your closely knotted net.
I hear that you’ve condemned a wealthy man
To death, because he had his pleasure with
A peasant’s daughter. Now he’s to be hanged.
The man’s a Zik and can’t afford to err.
This man right here: is this the wealthy Zik?
INSPECTOR: This is the Zikkish landowner, Your Excellency!
VICEROY:
Can we be sure? Would he wear wooden shoes?
To clear up any lingering doubt I’ll lift
His hood – of course there’s no doubt really …
He tries to take off the hood, but the man pulls it down firmly.
THE MAN: Leave it alone!
The inspector removes the hood.
MISSENA: Why, it’s the Zakkish peasant!
VICEROY: And what brings you here?
FARMER CALLAS: I was going to get off two years’ rent for this. They said no one would ever hang a landlord!
VICEROY:
Indeed, my friend, indeed. They spoke the truth!
Go fetch the other man!
Exit the inspector.
IBERIN to Callas:
Would you be hanged
For such a small advantage, wretch?
CALLAS: Not so small, for two years’ rent.
VICEROY:
So Iberin: this farmer’s daughter once,
For him, submitted to their Zikkish lord.
That lofty justice, which you preach, condemned
The lecherous landed gent to death. But then,
On his behalf – and this you don’t yet know,
Although you must approve: it’s oh, so just –
The landlord’s Zikkish sister paid a visit,
Rather as the Zakkish daughter had,
And offered … well, what only woman can.
A certain Zak was eager to enjoy
Her favours. Thus you caught a second fish:
The Zik lord’s sister. Bring in the second catch!
Nanna is led in in the clothes of Isabella de Guzman. The clothes are torn and she walks with difficulty, but she is still wearing the veil.
THE RICH LANDOWNERS:
What’s wrong with her? What ails the lady?
INSPECTOR: Your Excellency, we found her lying in the corridor, with a gag in her mouth and badly beaten up. According to her, after she’d left the Commander the soldiers on sentry duty had their way with her.
VICEROY: Is this true?
Nanna nods.
THE RICH LANDOWNERS:
Oh shameful! This cries out for vengeance!
You’ll pay for this, Iberin! A maiden,
A tender flower of this suffering land,
Of noble blood, and now reduced to this!
Renowned throughout the land for chastity,
A model of virtue, ravaged by the mob!
VICEROY:
That would be hard! Yet here as well you’ll find
A kindly fate has saved us from the worst.
It was, no doubt, uncomfortable for her,
And yet discomfort of this sort’s her trade.
For, Iberin, I think I know this fish.
He lifts her veil.
MISSENA:
The peasant’s daughter!
THE RICH LANDOWNERS:
Ha, the Zakkish girl!
They burst into wild laughter.
A comic masterpiece, dear Iberin!
This is the pack you tried to elevate.
If you heap honour on degenerates
Just look, and learn, what then becomes of honour!
These creatures, for a little cash, will sell
Their Zakkish bodies, even for their own
Tormentors! To us you’ll say: it’s just a wench,
The daughter of a peasant! But you’d have
Your own supporters say she’s just a Zik!
Restore the daughter to her Zakkish father
A second time! Here’s your sweet lass, peasant!
In faith, it’s too good to be true!
VICEROY:
Enough!
This is indeed his daughter. And with that:
Our order is restored. But these were Round Heads …
De Guzman is brought in. His sister accompanies him.
Behold, here come our real Pointed Heads.
Now why, de Guzman, should we pardon you?
I’ll tell you why: because your tenant farmer
Is so concerned to see that you don’t hang
He’d rather go and face the noose himself.
What’s more, we feel we must acquit you since
This farmer’s girl would rather sell herself
And work the streets than see you hanged. In short,
We have to set you free: you’re so well-loved!
The farmer likewise must of course go free
To pay the rent. To Callas: For that’s what you must do,
Dear Callas! Set a good example, friend!
For as of now there’s even more to pay.
We’ve had to put those horse-thieves in their place,
You see. And who’s to pay for that but you?
Untie the landlord, and the farmer too!
Measure for measure! And freedom for them both!
Live and let live!
To Iberin:
I trust that you agree?
Iberin nods. Landlord and tenant are released from their chains.
ISABELLA:
Emanuele! Really free?
DE GUZMAN smiling:
Of course.
CALLAS:
And what about my two years’ rent?
VICEROY:
Oh no!
That contract was unethical, and void.
ACTRESS PLAYING NANNA:
He’s given both their life and liberty
And yet it’s clear there’s glaring inequality.
They’re both alive. Yet this one eats, the while
The other sweats to keep him dining in such style.
The poor man’s free to live in peace, and yet the rich
Is free to push him back into the ditch.
They both go free. It has a hopeful sound,
And yet you have to ask yourself where both are bound.
VICEROY:
One more thing, friend, while I bethink me of it.
We know you find life hard, so hark to this:
We didn’t come back empty-handed, and
We’ve brought a little something from our travels:
Your hat is full of holes, so please take mine!
You need a coat, this one will suit you fine!
He sets the steel helmet on Callas’s head and puts the army coat around his shoulders.
Well, what d’you say to that? Of course, for now
We’d rather see you labour in the fields.
We’ll call you when a nobler task is due,
Which may be soon. �
� Iberin’s made a useful
Start, but greater things are called for now.
The kingdom you have started to establish
Needs room to grow, or else it soon may wither.
And, as you know, across the southern seas
Our old ancestral enemy resides,
A fearful nation, peopled with Square Heads,
A threat for which we need to be prepared.
Your task then, Iberin, it is to teach
All Callases about the foreign peril.
For we are on the brink and threshold of
A war of such ferocity we’ll need
The services of every honest man.
But now, my friends, let’s eat, let’s drink and eat!
We’ll take this table, which till now has served
The cause of justice, and lay out our feast.
For you, good farmer, there’ll be soup at least.
CALLAS to Nanna: Did you hear that, they’re planning a war?
The table is brought and laid. The Viceroy, Missena, Isabella and the rich landowners take their seats.
VICEROY serving out the soup with huge ladle:
The farmer first, eh, Señor Iberin?
We’d better feed him well now he’s our soldier.
Bring two more plates! And more? We’re hungry too.
INSPECTOR: Your Excellency must excuse me, but the farmers from the Sickle who were condemned to death are still waiting to be executed. I suppose they’re to be set free too now?
VICEROY: Whatever makes you think that?
INSPECTOR: So the general amnesty in celebration of Your Excellency’s return doesn’t apply to the Sickle farmers?
VICEROY:
Señor Iberin’s judgement stands.
They’re to be hanged, I think? But look to Callas
And give my loyal man a generous helping!
The Hatso brings soup for Callas and his daughter. They sit down on the ground and eat. The Hatso goes to the board and uses his sleeve to wipe out the words ‘1 landlord and’, so that it reads: ‘Executions: … 200 peasants’. Then he goes and stands behind Callas.
HATSO:
Eat up your soup Callas, don’t be shy
You’ve just been smarter than the rest, that’s why
You’ve got such rich rewards, you’re bright,
And you’ll have soup enough – at least tonight.
The Sickle farmers, including Lopez, are led under the gallows. Drums.
FARMER LOPEZ calls to Callas from the gallows:
Look up Callas, don’t try to hide.
Once we stood together on the same side.
We laboured once together, but whereas we awoke
And rose up in rebellion, you still wear the yoke.
They break your neck if you don’t bow your head:
The way you stoop you’ll still be spooning soup when we’re long dead.
And yet: we’d rather hear them kick away the stool
Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 4 Page 15