SCENE THREE
Castle, as Scene One. LAMISON playing to MELICENT and NINETTE, who look very bored. LAMISON finishes his performance, gets up and bows.
MELICENT: Thank you, Lamison. Very nice – but we’re just not in the mood. So you may go.
NINETTE: And try to learn The Black Knight Hath My Heart.
Lamison goes out R., obviously saying rude things about Ninette under his breath.
MELICENT: (Peevishly.) Who wants a black knight anyhow? Or any other colour, for that matter? I think knights are so boring. All that idiotic clattering and clashing and banging! All that buckling and unbuckling!
NINETTE: I ruined my nails helping to unbuckle Sir Maris, that day at the Astolat Tournament. And then he talked about nothing but heraldry for hours and hours until I could have screamed. What I’d like is an enchanter –
MELICENT: It’s what we all want, Ninette dear.
NINETTE: No, I mean a professional, a properly qualified magician –
MELICENT: They’re always so old.
NINETTE: A really clever one, if you insisted, could make himself appear any age you fancied.
MELICENT: Yes, but I’d still feel really he was old – and a bit smelly –
NINETTE: All you’re thinking about is your Sam –
MELICENT: I know. And I keep telling myself not to. Yesterday was wonderful – but today – what is there?
NINETTE: We ought to make things happen.
MALGRIM: (Appearing suddenly from behind pillar.) With my assistance, I hope, ladies. At your service, most noble princess.
MELICENT: Master Malgrim – you’re not supposed to make sudden appearances like that. It’s not allowed. Ninette – this is Master Malgrim, the new sorcerer who came from King Mark. Lady Ninette. (He bows and she smiles.)
NINETTE: Master Malgrim, how did you do it?
He is a distinguished-looking, rather Mephistophelean oldish man with a grey moustache and imperial, magnificently gowned in the sorcerer style. His presence, voice, gestures are all in the grand manner.
MALGRIM: (With affable condescension.) I was invisible of course. A quick simple method most of us use now. Only very old-fashioned magicians and enchanters, these days, prefer to transform themselves. For example, my uncle, who insisted upon coming along, decided to enter the castle and make his way up here as a brown rat. Not here yet, I suppose? No? That proves my point – a risky, clumsy, slow method.
MELICENT: I hope he’s not coming in here as a brown rat –
MALGRIM: He’s apt to be mischievous – and too fond of showing off. His name’s Marlagram, by the way. One of the old Merlin school.
NINETTE: (Admiringly.) I think you’re marvellous, Master Malgrim.
MALGRIM: Professionally I have to be marvellous, of course. But if you meant it personally, I’m flattered and delighted. But now, Princess Melicent, I must ask for the return of my mirror. You have it here, I think? Allow me. (He takes it.) Please don’t look so disappointed. Its power soon begins to fail if one person uses it frequently. You must have noticed that.
MELICENT: (Delighted.) Then perhaps Sam has been thinking about me today. And the wretched mirror just wouldn’t let me see him. But where’s Grumet the dwarf? And did he find Sam? Tell me – quick – Master Malgrim –
MALGRIM: (Shrugging.) You go too fast, noble princess. Remember – I was refused an appointment as Court Magician and Official Enchanter to the Kingdom of Peradore. Meanwhile, thanks to my powerful and extremely skilful aid, Grumet the dwarf has now returned, carrying strange beautiful gifts –
MELICENT: (Excited.) From Sam? Oh – heavenly! Where is Grumet?
MALGRIM: (With smooth irony.) Ah – where indeed? No doubt one of your official Court enchanters –
MELICENT: (Cutting in, crossly.) You know very well we haven’t any now.
NINETTE: You see, Melicent dear, you just can’t afford to be high-and-mighty with him. He’s much too clever. (She smiles invitingly at MALGRIM, who smiles and bows.)
MELICENT: What do I have to do then, Master Malgrim?
MALGRIM: Years ago, when your father was a young knight, Merlin gave him a gold brooch. If I could steal it, I would. But no gift of Merlin’s can be stolen. You or your father, of your own free will, must hand it over to me. Give me your promise that this shall be done, and I will help you to your heart’s desire. But first, before you can even see the dwarf and the gifts he brings, I must have your solemn promise.
As she hesitates, MARLAGRAM’s voice is clearly heard.
MARLAGRAM: (Not visible yet.) Don’t do it! Don’t do it! No solemn promises!
MARLAGRAM comes out of the pillar. The girls scream with fright and MALGRIM looks furious. MARLAGRAM is like his nephew, but very much older-looking, with a much longer beard, and smaller, bent and shabbier. He is, however, very spry, full of diabolical sort of energy, and darts about, cackling and muttering, a very lively old magician indeed. His cackling ‘he-he-he!’ is unmistakeable.
MALGRIM: (With cold disgust.) My uncle – Master Marlagram –
MARLAGRAM: Don’t trouble to tell me who they are, nephew. I know, I know, I know – he-he-he! (He points, then goes nearer to each as he speaks.) Princess Melicent – and a nice, ripe, tasty piece o’ damselry too – and if I were only a hundred again you’d get no Sam through me – I’d attend to you myself – he-he-he!
MELICENT: (Not unpleasantly.) I think you’re a disgusting old man.
MARLAGRAM: (Cheerfully.) You’re quite right – I am. But I’m also very very very very clever – as you’ll soon find out. He-he-he! (Pointing at NINETTE.) Lady Ninette – here’s a wicked wench – oh a mischievous piece o’ saucy goods, you are – oh what a hanky-panky, hocus-pocus, lawdy-bawdy future you have, girl!
NINETTE: (Coolly.) I can take it.
MARLAGRAM: (Capering about.) And it’s all on its way – lawdy-bawdy, hocus-pocus, hanky-panky – he-he-he!
MALGRIM: (Coldly.) Showing off. It never stops. So tasteless and tedious. Brings discredit to our whole profession. (To his uncle, triumphantly.) I told you I’d be here first. Beat you by at least ten minutes.
MARLAGRAM: Fiddle-de-dee-sticks, boy! I’d a bit o’ rogueish business to attend to down below. (To MELICENT.) See what he’s up to, my dear? Trying to make you believe his old uncle’s out-of-date. But I know a lot o’ tricks he’s never learnt yet. I was serving my time with Merlin before this fellow was born. You’re waiting for Grumet the dwarf, aren’t you?
MELICENT: (Eagerly.) Yes. Where is he?
MALGRIM: He’ll be here as soon as I have your promise –
MARLAGRAM: Don’t believe him, don’t believe him, my dear. He can’t produce the dwarf. I’ve seen to that.
MALGRIM: (Angrily.) Uncle, this is intolerable. I warned you not to interfere –
MARLAGRAM: He-he-he!
MALGRIM: (Angrily.) You ask for a trial of strength, you foolish old man –
MARLAGRAM: He-he-he! Yes, a sporting contest – one round only – winner takes the princess to Sam – he-he-he!
MALGRIM: (Drawing himself up, impressively.) So be it. Now – I command you –
Stage rapidly darkens. The girls give little cries of alarm and shrink from the two magicians, who are glaring at each other.
MARLAGRAM: Go on, boy. Command away! He-he-he!
MALGRIM: (Terribly, in some magic language.) Vartha gracka – Marlagram – oh terrarma vava marvagrista Demogorgon! –
There is a growl of thunder and a flash of lightning.
MARLAGRAM: (magnificently now, in the same style.) Vartha gracka – Malgrim – oh terramarveena groodumagisterra Beelzebub.
There is a terrific crack of thunder and then a flash of lightning that is a thunderflash actually on the stage. The girls scream. As the smoke clears and the lights come up, it is seen that MALGRIM has vanished. [He goes behind the pillar.] The girls come out of their terrified huddle, staring at MARLAGRAM, who is grinning and chuckling. Lightning as before.
MARLAGRAM:
All over. No need to be frightened, my dears. He’s gone – and serve him right. Too conceited – and no proper respect for his elders.
MELICENT: (Recovering, but still rather dazed.) But – what’s happened – I don’t understand, Master Marlagram –
MARLAGRAM: Very simple, my dear. I’m looking after you now. And I make no conditions – don’t ask for any solemn promises – notice that. You trust me, I’ll trust you. The good old-fashioned style. If it’s this Sam you want, then I’ll take you to him wherever he is. But first you want to see the dwarf, don’t you. Of course you do. (He calls.) Grumet – Grumet – Grumet – come, boy – come, boy – come, boy!
There is a sound like a whistling wind, and then GRUMET is there, carrying the portrait and the stockings, grinning away.
MELICENT: (Excited and delighted.) Oh – Grumet – did you see him? What have you brought? (As he hands over the portrait first.) Is this the picture of me that Sam painted? Oh – look – look! Isn’t it wonderful?
NINETTE: (As they look, coldly.) The nose isn’t right.
MELICENT: (Indignantly.) Of course it is – you’re only jealous. The nose is perfect. It’s a marvellous portrait of me. (GRUMET now offers her the stockings, grinning.) What are these? Stockings? (Displaying them with tremendous excitement.) Look at them – look – look –
NINETTE: (Excitedly.) They’re so – so – sheer. It must be an enchantment.
MELICENT: (Excitedly.) I must try them on.
NINETTE: What about me?
MELICENT: No, Ninette – not while you’re feeling so jealous.
MARLAGRAM: Stop! You wish to see this Sam –
MELICENT: Of course – you said you’d take me to him –
MARLAGRAM: Then get ready. We start in an hour. No sooner, no later. I’ve an hour’s work to do before we can find this Sam. He isn’t round the corner, y’know – at least not what you’d call round the corner – neither in space nor in time. So I need an hour to work it out. Then we’ll go – he-he-he! Grumet, stay here, boy. Now, I’m off –
The whistling wind sound as before. He runs out as fast as he can go. The wind sound fades out.
MELICENT: I’m sorry, Ninette, but you’ll have to stay here – you’ve never been really sympathetic about Sam – so I feel I ought to leave you out of this.
She goes out L. hurrying. NINETTE looks disgustingly at GRUMET, who is squatting.
NINETTE: If only you could talk, you stupid little thing. Is it really hard to find this Sam person? (The dwarf emphatically nods a ‘Yes’.) Can’t be done without magic, I suppose? (The dwarf shakes a vigorous ‘No’.) Not that I want him of course – I think the whole thing’s ridiculous – but I refuse to be treated like this without doing something. I’m not going to be left out of everything as if I didn’t count at all. If only Master Malgrim hadn’t been so easily defeated –
MALGRIM: (Stepping out of the pillar, coolly.) No, Lady Ninette, I must correct you there. Actually it was a near thing. The truth is, my uncle – who, after all, is a cunning old hand – had prepared himself for that little contest – and I hadn’t. Now it’s my move.
NINETTE: (Eagerly.) No – ours? Can’t I do something?
MALGRIM: (Confidentially.) You can. As soon as the princess leaves with my uncle, be prepared to receive Sam –
NINETTE: Sam? But they’re going to find him –
MALGRIM: Yes, but they won’t find him. Because I shall find him first. And bring him here while they’re still looking for him there.
NINETTE: (With enthusiasm.) Master Malgrim, I adore you.
MALGRIM: Lady Ninette – again I’m flattered, delighted. (Commandingly.) Grumet, come here. (Dwarf does. MALGRIM stares at him intently.) I must read your mind, manikin.
We hear, a long way off but coming nearer, the sound of saxophone and trombone. MALGRIM lifts an arm commandingly. We hear the noise of the whistling wind.
Lady Ninette, remember what you must do. Dwarf, we go together.
As light goes, MALGRIM rushes GRUMET into the pillar, the wind noise rises. Saxophone and trombone are much louder. Light comes on the two players, who are like a pair of street musicians.
SCENE FOUR
Private bar of The Black Horse. Music can be heard playing outside, then going away. BARMAID behind bar, and a very dreary middle-aged man standing at bar. They begin talking as music fades out.
BARMAID: (Colourlessly.) No, he came in ’ere Tuesday, Mr Sanderson did.
MAN: (Drearily.) He told me Wednesday.
BARMAID: Might ’ave bin Wednesday – but I’d ’ave said Tuesday.
MAN: He could ’ave made a mistake when he said it was Wednesday.
BARMAID: That’s ri’. (A pause.) But I might be wrong when I say it was Tuesday, mightn’t I?
MAN: That’s ri’.
SAM enters, dressed as before.
SAM: (Who seems very lively after these two.) Good-morning! Good-morning!
BARMAID: (Lifelessly.) ’Mornin’. Turned out nice again.
SAM: It has. Double gin and a glass of mild, please. (As she turns to serve him, he looks at the MAN.) In fact, I don’t remember a nicer thirty-first of June, do you?
MAN: No, I don’t. (Then, feeling uneasy, he takes out a pocketbook, clearly to consult the calendar, looking suspiciously from it to SAM, who is now receiving and paying for his drinks.)
SAM: (To BARMAID.) Thank you! And how are – er – things?
BARMAID: Quiet. (To MAN.) But I’d say it was Tuesday Mr Sanderson came in ’ere.
MAN: I don’t say it wasn’t, but Wednesday he told me.
BARMAID: That’s ri’. But that could ’ave bin ’is mistake, couldn’t it?
MAN: It could. But you could be wrong when you say it was Tuesday, couldn’t you?
BARMAID: That’s ri’! Could ’ave bin Wednesday like you say.
MAN: (Gloomily.) If it wasn’t Tuesday. Well, I must be getting along. Oh – reservoir!
BARMAID: (Gloomily.) Ta-ta for now!
SAM: (Cheerfully.) Goodbye!
Man goes out. SAM swallows the gin and then tastes the beer.
BARMAID: (Very slowly and sadly.) Been quiet all week.
SAM: (Humourously.) What about when Mr Sanderson was in here?
BARMAID: You mean Tuesday?
SAM: Yes, yes –
BARMAID: (Thoughtfully.) Or Wednesday.
SAM: Yes, yes, yes.
BARMAID: Do you know Mr Sanderson?
SAM: No, I don’t.
BARMAID: Neither do I. Don’t know ’oo the ’ell ’e is – an’ don’t care neither.
Enter CAPTAIN PLUNKET. He is a jaunty type of middle-aged man, with the complexion and style of a very hard drinker. He has a loud voice and is rather tight.
CAPT. P.: (Shouting.) ’Morning, ’morning. Two double Scotches, dear – like lightning. (Turns to SAM as BARMAID begins to get drinks.) What will you have, sir?
SAM: Nothing just now, thanks. (Indicating his glass.) Got one.
CAPT. P.: Ever done a deal in flat-bottomed boats?
SAM: No.
CAPT. P.: Then don’t. It’s hell. I’ve been plastered since the end of April – mostly in Cornwall. Hate the bloody place. You’ve heard of me – Cap’n Plunket?
SAM: No, I don’t think so.
CAPT. P.: ’Course you have. Remember that film I introduced – all about the fish that climbs a tree. Same man. Pat Plunket – the Old Skipper. Turn up anywhere, everywhere. ‘Here’s good old Skip Plunket,’ they all say. Thank you dear. Keep the change.
He has thrown a ten shilling note on the bar counter, and now he downs one of the doubles at a gulp.
SAM: Who are all these people who all say ‘Good old Skip. Plunket’?
CAPT. P.: (Triumphantly.) There you are, dear. What did I say? He knew me all right. Everybody does. What’s the date?
SAM: Thirty-first of June.
CAPT. P.: And about time too. Ought to be in Genoa now. I’ve got eighty cases of damaged custard powder there. Bought ’
em off a fella in Barcelona. He was plastered. So was I. What the hell can you do with damaged custard powder?
SAM: (Thoughtfully.) Turn it into damaged custard, I suppose. You’d need an advertising campaign – for the new flavour. Try Mr Dimmock of Wallaby, Dimmock, Paly and Tooks. Ignore Tooks.
CAPT. P.: Thanks for the tip, old boy. How’d you feel about a half-share in a disused Portuguese light-house?
SAM: It would have to be the top half – and very cheap.
CAPT. P.: Drop me a line week after next. Care of the Albanian Sports Club, Old Compton Street. Know it?
SAM: No.
CAPT. P.: Filthy hole. What did you say your name was?
SAM: I didn’t. But it’s Penty – Sam Penty.
CAPT. P.: Of course. Knew your brother in Nairobi.
SAM: I haven’t got a brother.
CAPT. P.: It was somebody else then. But it just shows you what a damned small world we live in. (To BARMAID.) Where’s the telephone, dear? (Swallows drink.)
BARMAID: In the passage, back of the Saloon. You’ll have to go out, then in again.
CAPT. P.: Anybody know the number of the Panamanian Legation? No? Never mind. (Goes to door, then turns.) What do you think about this deal? I’ve a third share in an electric band arriving from Venezuela next Thursday. Now a fella I met in Polperro night before last – he was a bit plastered – offered me in exchange a thirty percent holding in a pilchard canning company. You’re a keen fella. What do you feel?
SAM: I must give it some thought, Captain Plunket. By the way, what would you feel if you kept seeing a dwarf in red and yellow doublet and hose?
CAPT. P.: (Not surprised.) Oh – he’s looking for you, is he?
SAM: (Staggered.) Do you mean he’s here?
CAPT. P.: Outside a minute ago, old boy. Shan’t be long. Don’t go.
He goes out. Sam looks at the BARMAID, who looks vacantly at nothing.
SAM: (After a moment or two.) Quiet, isn’t it?
BARMAID: That’s ri’.
After a moment GRUMET looks in, sees SAM and recognises him, grinning broadly. SAM now sees him, gives a start and an exclamation. GRUMET disappears.
Priestley Plays Four Page 3