MOTHER SUPERIOR
I think the worst is past for us. Just now
Old Peruiner whispered in my ear
To give his greetings to your brother. So
We’re back on course. Oh yes, and Señor Saz
Said when our loyal troops come marching home
And back into the capital, they’ll bring
A small surprise for Señor Iberin.
And he laughed.
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY:
It all looks very healthy.
Down the street come the inspector and a Hatso with Emanuele de Guzman in chains. De Guzman has a large cardboard sign around his neck, which reads: ‘I’m a Zik, I raped a Zakkish girl, so I’m condemned to die.’
ISABELLA:
What’s this?
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY: Señor de Guzman! Señor de Guzman, congratulations! Everything’s back under control.
MOTHER SUPERIOR:
The peasant’s had his horses confiscated.
ZIKKISH ATTORNEY:
Which means that your estates are once again
Secure.
DE GUZMAN:
And me?
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY:
We’ll soon have that in hand.
Although it wasn’t actually discussed.
ISABELLA:
Emanuele, why so silent?
Why so pale? What’s wrong? And why these chains
And why this sign?
MOTHER SUPERIOR:
It’s all for show, I’m sure!
ISABELLA:
Dear brother, speak! Where are you bound?
Speak to us please!
DE GUZMAN:
I’m done for, sister, finished!
I’m destined for the Holy Cross.
ISABELLA:
Oh no!
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY to the inspector: Is this true?
INSPECTOR: It’s true Señor, it doesn’t look at all promising.
No one has ever come out of the Prison of the Holy Cross alive.
DE GUZMAN:
God help me, I won’t take another step!
He sits down on the ground.
ISABELLA:
Oh Reverend Mother, now it all comes back,
And I recall what ’twas that troubled me.
In all the fuss and bother that we’ve had
About the horses, we forgot the man.
We saved the horses for him. But he
Is lost to us.
DE GUZMAN:
I’ll hang, for sure.
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY:
Nonsense.
It’s been a victory!
MOTHER SUPERIOR:
You hear those bells,
My son? They ring for you!
ISABELLA:
But don’t you see?
It isn’t right. And now it all comes back:
A man approached me in the celebrations
And said I wasn’t to forget my brother.
The law, he said, could sometimes take its course
Relentlessly. And then he said he’d help.
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY:
What sort of man was this?
ISABELLA:
An awful man,
An animal.
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY:
I’ll wager that must be
Zazarante, Iberin’s lieutenant.
INSPECTOR:
Commander of the Holy Cross!
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY:
But what
Exactly did he say? How help? And when?
ISABELLA:
He bade me to him when the clock strikes five.
Pause.
DE GUZMAN:
Dear sister, this is my salvation!
ISABELLA:
Brother …
DE GUZMAN:
He … likes you. It’s, well it’s a proposition.
To talk things over, at five o’clock! I know
That talk. I used to have my ‘chats’ at five –
About the rents … and such … You’ll have to go.
ISABELLA:
But brother!
DE GUZMAN:
Don’t think of it, don’t contradict!
MOTHER SUPERIOR:
Señor de Guzman, let’s not exaggerate.
They’ll never hang a wealthy gentleman.
Reflect on what you are.
DE GUZMAN:
A Zik, that’s what.
ZIKKISH ATTORNEY:
Of course, a proposition, an attempt
At blackmail, while the Sickle threatened still.
Until that time they had the means to try it.
But now the Sickle’s finished, sir, with that
The situation’s changed!
ISABELLA:
I still don’t follow.
MOTHER SUPERIOR:
Well, yesterday they could still force their will
Upon us, now they can’t.
DE GUZMAN:
Oh yes they can!
It’s not so hard, dear sister: these people
Would like me dead. Because, though I can’t help it,
I’m a Zik.
ISABELLA:
That’s it, we’re Ziks. Just look,
His pointed head won’t vanish overnight!
DE GUZMAN:
She understands!
ISABELLA:
I understand, I see.
DE GUZMAN:
That I’m to hang!
ISABELLA:
They’re going to hang my brother.
DE GUZMAN:
We need a plan, what’s more we need it quick:
They want to hit us hard, and confiscate
Or steal some precious part of our estate:
We have to ask ourselves: what is the greater,
What the lesser loss? Perhaps instead
Of offering my head, we might divest
Ourselves of something else which we’d miss less,
Although our enemies, for all we know,
Might like it more. To sum it up: I’d like
To keep my life, for nothing is more precious.
ISABELLA looking at her brother in horror:
What are you saying, brother! That man I saw
Was like an animal.
DE GUZMAN:
And what am I?
A peasant wench – it seems so long ago –
Perhaps thought much the same of me. Of course
It isn’t easy, nor was it for her.
Look at my paunch. And she was young, like you.
ISABELLA:
You forced yourself on some poor girl?
DE GUZMAN:
I did.
ISABELLA:
You call yourself my brother! You may try
To force me but I’ll never, never do it!
DE GUZMAN:
I had my way! And, mark me, he’ll have his!
It’s not just my affair, it’s yours as well!
For if I’m hanged the rents will soon run dry,
And then, to pay your debts, you’ll have to take
Your precious maidenhead out on the streets.
So since, this way or that, it must be sold,
The question is: to whom, and at what price!
ISABELLA:
Dear brother, ask me anything but this!
DE GUZMAN:
Oh don’t make such a fuss, you’re not a saint!
They want me hanged, and I don’t want to hang:
Not for a whore, nor either for a nun.
ISABELLA:
Such talk is just a token of despair!
She runs off.
DE GUZMAN shouts after her:
This close to death and everything is fair!
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY:
She’ll never do it.
MOTHER SUPERIOR:
I’ll see what I can do.
Exit.
ZIKKISH ATTORNEY:
I’ll talk to Peruiner. In the morning
We’ll get the landlords up in t
own to pledge
Support. Remember, Guzman, you’re a landlord!
Exit.
THE HATSO, who has been sitting on de Guzman’s ball and chain, stands up: Get up! To the inspector: Kick him in the balls! I’m sick of this whole victory business; the minute they announced it we had our expenses cut.
INSPECTOR: We must get moving, Señor de Guzman.
DE GUZMAN stands up:
I’m lost.
ZAKKISH ATTORNEY to the inspector:
The poor man’s nerves are playing up.
Exeunt.
PALMOSA, who has been listening again, runs back to the coffeehouse and rings until Madame Cornamontis and Nanna appear: Miss Callas, you’ve just missed it. They just came by with that de Guzman. They’re taking him to the Holy Cross. Now at least you have the satisfaction of knowing he’ll be hanged.
NANNA: Will he?
PALMOSA: You don’t seem very happy about it.
NANNA: You know, Mr Palmosa, I’ve seen our Señor Iberin in action. Yesterday it was the Viceroy who held court over us; today it’s Señor Iberin. Today it’s the Holy Mother of San Barabas who takes our horses; tomorrow it may well be Señor de Guzman again. She sings the ‘Ballad of the Waterwheel’.
BALLAD OF THE WATERWHEEL
1
Take mankind’s outstanding figures
Don’t their legends sound enthralling?
First they shoot up like a comet
Then tail off like comets falling.
What a comfort, and how well worth knowing!
As for us who have to keep them going
How are we to tell just what the difference is –
Upsurge or collapse, who pays the expenses?
For the waterwheel must keep on turning
And so what’s on top is bound to fall.
All the time the water underneath is learning
It has to drive the waterwheel.
2
Oh, we’ve had so many masters
We’ve had tigers and hyenas
We’ve had eagles, we’ve had warthogs:
Fed the lot of them between us.
People tell us that all men are brothers
But each jackboot felt like all the others
And it crushed us. Which should serve to show one
That it’s not a different master that we need, but no one.
For the waterwheel must keep on turning
And so what’s on top is bound to fall.
All the time the water underneath is learning
It has to drive the waterwheel.
3
And they’ll batter one another senseless
For the booty.
Each one will claim he’s poor and defenceless
Acting from a sense of duty.
Watch them rip each other’s hands to bits to prise off
Their adornments. But the consternation
When we say we’re going to cut supplies off!
Then there is a total reconciliation.
For the waterwheel must keep on turning
And so what’s on top is bound to fall.
All the time the water underneath is learning
It has to drive the waterwheel.
9
IN THE COFFEEHOUSE OF MADAME CORNAMONTIS
Isabella de Guzman is standing at the entrance.
ISABELLA:
Now that I know their purpose is to hang him
I know I must not shirk this bitter cup.
But let me ask of those who’ve oft times made
This sorry journey: how they keep themselves
Detached and unaffected by their sin.
Besides, I need to know what I should wear.
Should one behave as if one freely came,
As if the vile seducer once had caught
One’s eye, or had appeared by night in dream?
That way I might perhaps anaesthetise
This agony of being bought and used.
Or is it better one should have it known
Quite openly that one’s abused and can
Do nothing for it, yet remain untouchable
and cold the while that one submits.
Are deeds this base so much the custom that
The men who thus abuse our honour think
It all a harmless game, their bit of fun?
Perhaps what’s asked is thought so little that
Too agonised a protest might increase
Our shame: righteous disgust but spreads the stain.
The girls who work in places such as this
So seldom are with child; they must know ways
By which they may evade the consequences
Of their sin. I have so much to learn.
She rings.
NANNA opens the door: What do you want here?
ISABELLA: Good day to you, Nanna, you know me of course, when we were little we often played together in the courtyard.
NANNA: Yes, and what can I do for you?
ISABELLA: I’m not disturbing you?
NANNA: Think nothing of it.
ISABELLA: Circumstances compel me to seek you out. The execution of my brother has been announced, tomorrow morning at five o’clock. There is a possibility that I may save him, but it requires an unusual sacrifice, and it puts me in a situation which, being inexperienced in these matters, I cannot handle on my own.
NANNA: Sit down.
ISABELLA sits down: May I have a glass of water? I’m not feeling very well. Nanna fetches a glass of water. A certain proposition has been made by the Commander of the Holy Cross, he wants me to abase myself utterly. Were I to concur, I should face difficulties I can scarcely imagine.
NANNA: I see.
ISABELLA: I know nothing of love.
NANNA: No.
ISABELLA: Please don’t think me cynical, but my plight forces me to ask you questions of a sort which you, because of your profession, must needs be well equipped to answer.
NANNA: Ask away, but you’ll have to pay Madame for my time.
ISABELLA: I’ll pay for your time.
NANNA: I can imagine what you need to know, you’d better ask the boss as well. She’s had an awful lot of experience.
ISABELLA: Is she discreet?
NANNA: It’s her job.
ISABELLA: Good, that’s agreed then.
Nanna fetches Madame Cornamontis.
NANNA at the bar to Madame Cornamontis: Make sure you milk the cow, she’s loaded.
They both enter the room.
MADAME CORNAMONTIS: No need to tell me your name, my child, just ask as freely and frankly as if I were your Father Confessor.
ISABELLA: You need to know that the life of my brother depends on my going to a certain highly placed gentleman who, they tell me, has conceived a liking for me. I have no idea how to conduct myself, nor whether this fashion of granting and demanding love is usual.
CORNAMONTIS: Entirely usual.
ISABELLA: Oh.
CORNAMONTIS: Go on.
ISABELLA: Is it not possible that a man who is disappointed by such an embrace will go back on his commitments and break the promises he has made?
NANNA: That’s a definite possibility.
ISABELLA: And what can one do about it?
CORNAMONTIS: They all break their promises and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s only the hope of future embraces that restrains them from the very worst brutalities.
ISABELLA: As so infinitely much depends on it: the clothes I am wearing are probably inappropriate.
CORNAMONTIS: On the contrary.
ISABELLA: It’s a novice nun’s habit.
CORNAMONTIS: Precisely.
ISABELLA: Forgive my confusion. All this cold linen?
CORNAMONTIS: The more linen the better. Linen is excellent.
ISABELLA: And shouldn’t I adopt a rather less cold demeanour?
CORNAMONTIS: The colder the better.
ISABELLA: Oh! You’re not afraid I might seem aw
kward?
CORNAMONTIS: Not at all.
ISABELLA: I know less of these things than you may presume.
CORNAMONTIS: There is less to know than you imagine, my child! That’s the sad thing. It’s not practice, but a natural disposition, a rare quality, that lends these matters a sort of charm. But have no fear: even without charm there can be enjoyment. For meagre gratification such as this almost anyone will do.
ISABELLA: So there’s no reason why I should ask that this cup pass from me?
CORNAMONTIS: None at all. Pause. Yet. There is one thing.
ISABELLA: What is that? Speak! Tell me, please!
CORNAMONTIS: Your money, my dear! Indeed, it’s a very strong reason. Why should you, in your position, lower yourself? Why should you do anything at all that you don’t want to do? Wouldn’t it be unseemly if you, for whom other, less sensitive souls sweat to create your wealth – if you were to do something which might set the common people gossiping? It would be most improper! What would you say, if one day the rain were to fall back up into the sky? You’d think it untoward, and rightly so. You shouldn’t have to do a thing like this.
ISABELLA: But a certain highly placed person demands it.
CORNAMONTIS: And rightly so, my child, there’s nothing to be said against that. Why should he not demand it, if he’s highly placed? And why should he not receive what he demands? But what about you, what concern is this of yours, since you are highly placed too, and have the means to have your justice done in style? A certain je ne sais quoi …
ISABELLA: What are you suggesting?
CORNAMONTIS: My girls of course. Who else. We’re so much better able to suffer abasement, base as we already are. Look at her sitting there, lazy slut, too idle to blink, and all the time we’re talking about her employment prospects! Nanna, wait outside! Nanna exits. My best girl will go in your place.
ISABELLA: Impossible, you don’t know who he is.
CORNAMONTIS: Whoever he is, he won’t notice.
ISABELLA: The Commander of the Holy Cross!
CORNAMONTIS: So much the better. She’ll go in your clothes, and she’ll imitate your manner. But she’ll be much better than you could ever be. Your brother will go free. And the rain won’t need to fall back up into the sky. And it’ll cost you a thousand pesos.
ISABELLA: She’d be willing to do it for money?
CORNAMONTIS: More than willing. Cash makes you randy.
She sings Isabella a song.
MADAM’S SONG
Oh, they say to see the red moon shining
On the waters causes girls to fall
And they’ll talk about a woman pining
For some lovely man. But not at all!
If you want to know what makes them swoon
It’s his chequebook, not the moon.
Try to look at it in this light:
Decent girls won’t take to bed
Any gent whose wad is tight